Bastien
Bastien laughed at Melita's reaction to his joke, remembering when he had used it many times for his students in Venice (though there with the oil paints and often poor qualities of canvas, at least weeks could be accurate). "It does." He agreed, watching her correct the accidental colour, thinking the slight amount of green that bled through actually added a nice edge to the blue now, a variation in colour; how wonderful in art that even mistakes could add to the beauty."Then you will fit in." He grinned, glad there were at least some people in town that could appreciate a good time (he had never understood those that seemed dedicated to their own misery).
Nineteen. It felt young to him, but it was old enough for her to know what happened behind closed doors. "Then you should know there is also often a Bacchanal element to these events...or well. A sexual party, in a separate room. Open to members that wish to explore those kinds of things with others - obviously, you choose if you would wish to participate and shall not be judged either way." He made sure not to look at Melita, not wanting to seem like he was pressuring her at all about this, adding to his painting a few small details.
Let's pick the truth that we believe in
like a bad religion
