“come be my muse, seven.”

that was what builder had said to 007n7 that late afternoon when he’d knocked on the survivor’s door. builderman had had such a bright smile on his face; he seemed genuinely happy to be spending some time with the outcast of the group. the other members, such as elliot & shedletsky, accomplices of builderman, had given the man a sidelong glance of suspicion & even looks of mild irritation. shedletsky even had the urge to pull builderman aside & confront the latter with a demanding, “what the hell do you think you’re doing??” but he didn’t.

regardless of the looks this earned him, builderman escorted 007n7 from his room to his own, patiently smiling at the downcast man shuffling across the corridor. he led the burger-hatted man in by the hand, unabashed & unashamed. inside his room, sitting in the middle of the carpet, was an easel, a stool & a chair brought in from the dining room some distance away in front of the easel. builderman seated himself unto the stool, gesturing for 007n7 to take a seat on the chair set out for him.

“i’m going to be painting you!! figured you’d be the best to practice by anatomy on, so ..here we are,” builderman proclaimed with… an almost heartfelt chuckle.