care that much. Right now isn't the time to be thinking about theology, or the whole seminary thing or how he's really got to work on that paper debating Shartan's Message To The Orlaisians.
And hey, Sebastian might be missing a class right now, this one on divine...something or other. Like hell if he remembers, but the light was just too good, and why did they give him a room with a window and a shitload of light if they didn't want him to use it? So he dragged out his oils yet again, and he's got a fully prepped canvas and some foundation work down, but in the meantime, well, he's in dire need of a caffeine fix, considering he snuck off the seminary grounds last night and out into Kirkwall, where he collected a lot of phone numbers, a used condom, and, apparently, a permanant marker mustache that's started to fade but isn't there yet.
Yeah. He'd better get some coffee fast. Luckily, there's a little shop nearby, so once he's cleaned up, which really means he smells a little bit of turpentine and has a few blue and yellow streaks on his hands, and a faint red blotch on one cheek, he heads into town and strolls into the nearest place that he can find that he knows serves a decent cup, then scans the menu, considering.
Sebastian's last clean shirt is now covered in all sorts of spots and splatches of color, and he's really got to go ahead and get to the laundromat at some point in the next couple of days before he's down to draping a sheet around himself and going to his classes that way, but right now he doesn't really