Chapter Two
Gipsy flopped onto her beanbag chair, grabbing her sketch pad and her pencils at the same time in one smooth motion. "Make yourself at home," she said, "I don't know what the orphanage is going to say when they find you here, so try to keep shedding to a minimum."
Jackson snorted and shook out his fur. Humans could be so pesky sometimes. "I'll try not to." He said smoothly. "Is there any food?" Gipsy stared at him, then burst out laughing.
"I don't know, I'll look." She said shaking her head and standing. She left the room, closing the door behind her. Jackson began exploring the room. It was a medium sized room with a large desk filled with drawings and half painted pictures, with colored pencils and eraser shavings decorating the edges of the desk. Drawers were held half open and crammed with pencil sharpeners and broken pencils that were still used for their erasers.
A few feet from the desk was the dresser, which had pictures hanging out of odd drawers or concept art roughly taped to the side, or half finished works of art that lay almost forgotten just underneath the dresser. A few feet from that was a bed which was perfectly made, but was similarly effected by drawings. They were taped to the walls, and the ceiling, and canvases and gigantic artist drawing pads were supported by the pillows or the wooden bed posts, and pencil cases were strewn across the bed. Jackson frowned, and glanced at the closet. It was the only place in the whole room that wasn't covered in drawings. He padded towards it and slowly pulled the door open.
It was completely empty aside from one piece of clothing and a box. Frowning, he inspected the clothing more closely. A gymnastics leotard. And the box... it had what must have been the rest of Gipsy's belongings. A small completely empty drawing book with a leather cover, a pair of socks, and a curiously shaped rock that made Jackson back away in fear.
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