A place for the rest of us

Brigid set the last of the day's work into the kiln and closed the door. It was still a little chilly during the day so she didn't have any compunction about using the oven during the day. When summer came, she'd do her firing at night so her workshop and studio wouldn't be so stiflingly hot they kept people from lingering.

Lingerers took her pieces home, asked questions, wanted lessons. People wilting from the heat took a glance in and kept going. So not the point of the colony. Finn, she knew, didn't give a rats ass if anyone looked at his pieces, watched him make them, or took them home.

Hell, he'd probably be just as happy to take the lot into the forest and smash them all against the trees if he ran out of room. He made glass for him, if others wanted to cart it home that was fine, too. Questions were a little different and depended on his mood or, more specifically, how recently he'd been laid.

Since he hadn't been off the compound in a week, he seriously worried for the next person that asked about his blowing technique.

Giggling at herself, Brigid pulled clay from the grog and put it on the wedging table in front of her studio. She could have put the table inside, and would in winter or rainy weather, but the second the weather cleared, she'd bribed Finn into moving it. She wanted fresh air and sunshine today.

"What's so funny?" asked a voice just beside her.

"Nothing much," she smiled innocently back at her brother.

He answered with an eyebrow.

"Imagining what'll happen during open studio hours today if anyone asks about your blowing technique," she answered at last.

Because it was her, and not a stranger, Finn smiled back. "At this point, probably an outright offer for a hands on demonstration."

"Hands on?"

"Mouth on," Finn laughed and kissed her forehead as they heard the cars start to pull in to park.

"If I find anyone promising, I'll send them on," Brigid promised with a pat to his cheek. "I know it's not the same when it's me."

Finn sighed. "No, it isn't."

Brigid got up and wrapped her brother in a hug which he returned. "Think we'll ever find anyone we trust enough?"

Finn kissed her forehead. "I don't think that person exists, Brig. Put it out of your head, okay? Looking for shit that doesn't exist will just depress you. Dinner tonight?" he finished stepping from her embrace to head over to his studio before some idiot decided to start fucking around with things marked with the confusing signs that spelled out in huge block letters that his tools were hot and not to touch them.

"Dinner tonight," she answered and started wedging the clay in front of her.

Finn's in the glass (blowing) house, Brigid's in the pottery studio, put in the subject line who you want.