I am not a scholar and I don't believe in fate
In all honesty, Noah didn't have much of an opinion. He had picked out the color he liked the best, and after that he was neutral. He was never one to pursue the arts. He didn't look down on those who did, he had just always been taught his purpose and had always pursued that rather than anything else. It wholly satisfied him. He assumed that this, painting and tending and caring, wholly satisfied Delphine. So he let her run wild. "You decide." He smiled, following her around as she gathered her items. He watched her carefully, taking in the way her body moved with a vigor that looked almost forgotten--a vigor he certainly had not seen before the last 12 hours.
He scooped his hands around her waist again, pressing himself up against her back. The messy bun--or nest--of hair was nice for him, and he only had to move a few strands of hair away to give way to the landing strip of her neck. He laced kisses from her collarbone to her ear, a small rumble of a humming growl vibrating deep in his throat as he did. "You're the artist, after all."
NOAH
