#once he gets free reign though he would totally spoil you with compliments tho

[primordialsquirrel]

Mask Maker pt.1

A/N: This is around the time of when Mr. Compress acted as a master thief. He is in a different group than the LOV, but they won't be mentioned much ^^; this is part one of a mini series

For @thesemimythril​ , hope you like it and sorry it took so long! The next part will be much more fluff oriented!

- - -

Bandages covered your fingers, a multitude of colors to hide the nicks and scrapes you had on your skin. You were a carpenter, one who often got a little too close to your tools of choice.

When you had the time, you carved totems and masks, little things to sell in your shop for the people who weren't interested in buying your bigger pieces of work. It was a side hobby you indulged in. You liked the intricacies and patterns you could carve into the wood. People came by your workshop just to see your process.

You were proud to say you were a part of the artisan community in your area. A spot to visit when in the city.

This time around, you were working on a mask. But you had little inspiration for its design. It was a slow day, and not many people were passing by. It was quiet for a Saturday.

"Maybe this one will have to wait." You lower the mask onto your crafting table. You had orders to work on either way. Tables and chairs, dressers and frames, it was listless. But the mask would stay on your mind throughout the day while you worked.

Sooner than later as you were sanding down the leg of a chair, the bell at the front door chimes, signalling someone had entered the shop.

You peek your head over the seat of the chair, curious on who it was. Maybe it was one of the elderly couples that came every now and then with requests for animal carvings. Or one of your fellow shopkeepers. Or maybe it was simply a student who had nothing better to do.

It was neither of those. Standing in the doorway was a man with unruly black hair and brown eyes. He studied the room, staying in the doorway for a moment before finally taking a step forward. Immediately he takes the path to the masks in your glass display. He crouches to examine the lower festival themed masks before rising to see the more demure designs.

Your heart beats madly in your chest as he looks at you from the reflection on the glass. His smile is cat-like.

“Are you the creator of these?” He says smoothly as he turns around to face you. “They're finely crafted. I wasn't expecting such marvels when I was first told of your work.”  

You let the low-blow slide as you swallow thickly. Why was the room suddenly so hot? Why was everything so heavy? Your mouth was dry as you rub your neck, forgetting the small pieces of wood that covered your gloves, wincing when a splinter of wood brushed against your skin.

“I- I make them as a side project.” You remove your gloves and dry your suddenly sweaty palms on your apron. “Were you interested in buying one?”

“Yes.” He draws near, giving a good amount of space between the both of you. “Though I was looking for something more simple.” His eyes fall on the blank mask on your table, eyes lighting up. “Something like this.” He picks up the polished piece of wood before looking at you with a wince. “My apologies, I should have asked permission to touch it first.”

“It's not a problem.” You assure him with a wave of your hand. Children had run inside your shop before, touching every display they could reach and nearly toppled them over in the process. You didn't mind him at all.

With your consent, he lifts the mask up to the light and inspects it. While it had no designs on the front, there was intricate curls and hollow spaces on the inside. It was made to be comfortable, even if it wasn't elastic like other masks. 

The man grins. “Yes, this will do perfectly.” He reaches into his pocket. “How much do you want it for?” 

Your brows furrow. “But it's not finished yet. It still needs its stain.” The mask was a light beige, but you wanted it to be a deeper mahogany color. “Are you sure you want it like that?”

He removes his wallet and hands you his card. “It’s perfect the way it is-” He brings his hand back as he taps the credit card against his lower lip. “Unless, you wouldn't mind customizing it a little?”

Peering at the nearly completed rocking chair behind you, you look upward as you count your fingers. You still had plenty of time to finish your orders. The mask wouldn't take even an hour of your time.

Depending on what he wanted done. 

“What do you want me to do?”

“Something with a smile. Not your run of the mill clown faces. Something more.. interpretive.” He ends with a flourish of his hands. “Whatever strikes your fancy.” 

You consider the item in his hands. The cat-like smile on his face. The way he held himself. 

Smug. Confident. Not a shy bone in his body.

“I think I can do that for you.” You chew on your lip. “Would you like to return for it later or?”

He shakes his head. “I have nothing but time, my dear.”

You pull up a chair for the smiling stranger and sit on your stool, accepting the blank mask from his hold. Opening a drawer on your left, you remove a small tin of white paint and begin to coat the wood in even layers until it was completely opaque. Surprisingly, he stayed quiet the entire time.

Watching paint dry wasn't fun, even for you. 

“I’m not boring you, am I?” You remove an even smaller tin of black paint and a thin round brush, dunking the tip in the paint and starting on the smiling design.

“Never. Watching a fellow artist doing their craft could never be anything less than magical.”

You laugh quietly, “I wouldn't say magical.” 

“You create beautiful works of art out of blocks of wood. Your fingers never stutter, your lines are flawless,” Your hand hesitates, your focus suddenly focused on your hands now knowing he was watching them. A blush rises to your cheeks. “It is magic.”

“Thank you sir.” 

“Atsuhiro.”

“Thank you Atsuhiro.” You finish your lines and set the brush aside before showing Atsuhiro your work. “It still has to dry, but will this do?”

“As I said before, it was already perfect.” His smug smile softens. “Perhaps I will come to you for another mask. I use them for my performances, you see.” He gives you his credit card and watches the mask as the new paint dries. All that was left keeping him in your shop was now the black paint. 

Could paint dry slower if you willed it?

Alas, the paint dried and soon his mask was packaged in blue tissue paper and tucked away in a paper bag. You stand at the doorway with Atsuhiro standing across from you. The chill of the evening air did nothing to cool you off as the man winks at you.

“Until next time, my dear.”

“Until next time.”