TRACKING AEROPLANES ★ o, portraits!

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border: 0%;width:60%;text-align:justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 13.5px;"]Doing his best to not let the day waste away, Isidore was doing laundry. His clothes had been set out to dry in the sun outside the observatory and there he sat, on a ledge of wood, folding and picking through the line that he had strewn across two trees. He kept muttering and humming under his breath, squinting to make a shield to keep the sunshine out of his eyes. Once he'd plucked every shirt and sock and pair of paints from the line, he sat between two neat piles, palms laying on each. The sound of someone's voice pulled him out of the lull he'd gotten himself into, and he traced back to where the sound came from, the stack of clothes cradled in his arms.

"I'd be willing." Dory offered her- Hazel, it was, setting down his laundry beside a nearby wall, figuring they'd be kept safe for the time being. He pursed his lips, a bit quiet for a moment- someone drawing a portrait of him couldn't be too awkward, right? "Props to you for drawing portraits." He encouraged, though frowned, adding with a furrowed  brow, "I tried to draw a portrait once and ... it ..." He hesitated, but then shrugged his shoulders, "I couldn't get it right, so I gave up, I was too frustrated." The eyes would never match, and once they did, he thought the lips were too soft or too round or tilted. He would fix all of that, and it would still never look like who he was drawing.