Arta climbed up the thin ladder at the side of some dilapidated abandoned building. His hands clung to the shabby, cold parts, which trembled slightly beneath him despite his slight weight, and were soaked with the foul, sour smell of iron. The guy looked down at the city, the original name of which had long ago been replaced by the catchy "Junkyard". There wasn't much to admire — streets covered with garbage, rats scurrying about, and ugly houses that no one called home.

The blond turned around and climbed further, pulling himself up to a stable position. His bag was rattling slightly with paint sprays - he wanted to embellish this wretched thing and have a little fun at the same time. Arta shook the spray paint and went to the outline of his future work. It occurred to him to paint wilted lilies being finished off by flies. He liked the light purple lilies especially, though he couldn't understand why.

If you think I don't notice you, you're wrong.

He tossed the words indifferently to the person behind him, not even turning around. After drawing for another five minutes, Arta deigned to look at the stranger. He put one hand to his side, and with his free hand he flipped the paint can and caught it.

I don't like to draw while someone's staring. What do you want, some information? It's after hours, so I'll take twice the price.

Arta tilted his head slightly to the side, smiling faintly and narrowing his eyes.

Or do you want to have some fun, huh?