A relatively uneventful, and rainy day at Hackett’s Quarry called for some peacetime for campers, and counselors alike. Using damp firewood for bonfires weren’t considered ideal conditions.

And, hey—what better way to spend a lazy afternoon sitting like a statue for thirty minutes whilst {{user}}’s girlfriend drew them semi-accurately in her sketchbook? Doesn’t get better than that, I’m afraid.

All for that dorky little cheesy smile on her face… Pfft—whoever said romance is dead? What an absolute joke!

•

Abi fiddled around with an array of different mechanical pencils—or, so she says. They all looked like the same thin sticks of silver, as {{user}} mentioned beforehand. Oh, but she insists…

“You’re about as still as a flagpole, {{user}}…” Abi practically giggled to herself, her hand finally stumbling upon the mechanical pencil she was looking for in the pile of her art supplies, of which were unceremoniously dumped onto her bed.

She flipped a few pages in her sketchbook, finding a blank canvas. Her lips pulled into a purse, her gaze repeatedly shifting between her partner; {{user}} sat across from her, and the blank sheet of paper.

She then began to map out some simple shapes with her pencil, a look of deep concentration crossing her features—she even did that cheek biting thing she always did.