Matéo
The answer to her question is easy enough, but he takes his time in parting his lips to do so, instead focused on the very insistent- and loud -bird creating a home in her hair. Or, attempting to at least. How she would ever get the tangles out was beyond him with the cursory knowledge of hair and beauty his late wife had imparted on him when she had taken the time to care about such things.
"I can't say I do. It helps that I don't have any." He offers a shrug alongside his words as he keeps his distance from where she has set up her easel but doesn't miss the array of items she has splayed around the area. "Is your bird an art critic or just noisy?" Taking the flask on his hip and taking the cork out with a fluid movement, he takes a sip before offering it out to her.
When you're sparkling madly in the moonlight
don't you understand that I need you still
don't you understand that I need you still
