Venti left his apartment early because he wanted to sit outside Frappuchinos to enjoy the gorgeous sunny autumn skies. Hard to believe yesterday a thunderstorm struck, plunging the city into what felt like monsoon season. It was terrible for business; no one came in for half of the jackal's shift, but he got to talk to Art.

He sat down in one of the larger chairs built for folks his size, he stretching out his limbs and folding his hands over his chest. There was a dog sitting one table over, a large satchel at his feet. He had a light blue coloration to him, but Venti couldn't recognize the species. He was never good with breeds unless it was blatantly obvious. Shrugging to himself, he lifted his head to the sky, enjoying the light and warmth that kept the autumn chill away from his arms and face. Absolute bliss, that feeling of the sun.

He was then aware of a sound of pencil on paper. Opening his eyes, he saw the dog hunched over a large sketchpad, the pencil in his hand moving with broad, fast strokes. Venti was too far away to see the drawing, and curiosity soon forced him over to look. The subject on the paper was none other than himself, basking in the sun not ten minutes ago. "Hey, that's pretty good."

The dog's head flew up so fast Venti was afraid he'd get whiplash. "I...I'm sorry. I should have asked for permission."

Venti spread his hands. "No problem. You're really good."

"Really? Thank you." The dog's muzzle scrunched up in what Venti thought might have been a scowl. "I'm not as good as some of my friends."

"I don't know your friends, though." He reached out a hand towards the dog. "Name's Venti."

The dog shook the large hand. "Haavard."

"Nice name."

"It's Norwegian." Haavard was quiet for a moment, then asked "You didn't mind being sketched?"

"Not at all. I got some exhibitionist in me."

"How...would you feel about being paid to keep a single pose for a length of time?"

Venti grinned, but wasn't about to say what he did after dark. "I'm listening, Haavard."

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