He was always kind of unsure about whether he wanted to show people this stuff, since he had no idea whether people would appreciate it. But, he paused for a moment, and, actually thought about it this time. Something that he normally didn't do. The sketch-book was one of the most personal things he owned. Neal decided to actually tell her what it was, awaiting her reaction to it. “Yeah, they're personal, but, they're a part of who I am.” Neal slowly moved the sketch-book into Ingrid's hand, being careful with it, telling himself not to change his mind.
Neal put his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, as he stood there, and, just watched her observing it. “Yeah, I guess it is. I don't normally have stuff in common with foster parents.” Art had not only been a connection to his mother for his whole life, but, it also gave him something to do while his father had been strict about not letting him out of the house. There wasn't much to do inside of their small cottage, so he had just pulled out the charcoal and the parchment, and, just started drawing. He had wanted more then anything to leave the cottage, and, attempt to make friends, but, his father had seemed to lock him in there. Scared that he was never going to come back if he left. But, in the end, his father was the one that had left. Kind of ironic really.
Running his hand through his hair, Neal just looked around the house as he let Ingrid look through his book for a moment. “Thanks I guess.” Neal said. Normally he didn't let anybody look at his drawings, but, he was trying to make an effort to open up to the foster parents who actually attempted to be nice to him.
Neal knew that a part of him had been hesitant to even show his own father his drawings by the end. But, a part of him had anyway, because he still loved the man underneath it all. There was proof about that, which he had thought was mutal, until that moment over that portal. That moment had haunted him for more years then he could count.
Hearing Ingrid talk to him again, Neal came out of his thoughts, and, then glanced at the image of that same man. “Oh that's my father.” Neal said, before running his hands up and down his arms nervously. “Honestly I, I forgot that was in there.” Neal did notice the woman's reaction when she asked, but, he didn't really focus on.