Bastien
Looking slightly offended at the idea that he would chew on his brushes like a child, Bastien nodded at the warning. He was more than used to poisonous paint, or paint made from things one just didn't want to eat like dead bodies or dung.
Remi seemed confused about why Bastien was impressed, which baffled him in turn. Remi had just performed what would have been a miracle for Venice; moving something with your mind was the stuff of children's fantasies and fairy tales. He ran a hand over the canvas on the top of the pile as they were pushed over the counter - good enough quality, from what he could tell, with good tension.
"...Then you must do it again so I can watch sometime. It is a miracle." He mumbled, disappointed but also busy investigating the canvases and brushes. He could definitely work with all of this, he knew. The whole interaction felt strangely empty without money, though - he felt like a thief.
"You must let me repay you in some way. I could paint something for you. A portrait, perhaps? A nude of your man to reignite your feelings?" This was a joke, as implied by his cheeky grin at the suggestion. "Or maybe if you come down to the Rathskeller I could make you a special drink. Clear out your favourite seat."
