The nights have lost their minds
Nate has to stifle a laugh at the bold proclamation from Bastien, not wanting to seem too rude all at once. "I'm not even sure I know what my opinion is on art." It had never been something particularly important to him, especially not the extent it seemed to be for his fellow ascended. Though despite his earlier efforts, he couldn't help the laugh that came with the next claim. "I don't think his opinion on art is going to change how I think of him at this point." Nate was fairly certain they'd moved past that point of their relationship, even if it did matter to him.
The paint seemed to be fighting Nate every step of the way. His first pass of the brush too thin, the wall clearly shining through the layer of colour. Nate huffed, the issue seemingly having an easy fix, but his next pass was too enthusiastic, his brush dripping, rivulets of paint threatening to drip past the chalk line, no matter how he tried to catch them. "I'm sure it'll be eye catching for the right type." Nate said, a little distracted by his struggle. "I can't really say I'm the artsy type though." There's a laugh, a helpless gesture towards the mess he's making.
The paint seemed to be fighting Nate every step of the way. His first pass of the brush too thin, the wall clearly shining through the layer of colour. Nate huffed, the issue seemingly having an easy fix, but his next pass was too enthusiastic, his brush dripping, rivulets of paint threatening to drip past the chalk line, no matter how he tried to catch them. "I'm sure it'll be eye catching for the right type." Nate said, a little distracted by his struggle. "I can't really say I'm the artsy type though." There's a laugh, a helpless gesture towards the mess he's making.
And the mornings are unkind
NATE
