Matéo
The bird in question answered for her and Matéo can't help the way his lips turn up just slightly at the corner as he takes in the bright pink plumage, not so discreetly hidden within honey gold tresses. Fair enough, assumedly he wouldn't care much for art either if he was a bird.
"The only good drink- whiskey." He continues to hold it out for her but continues with a small shrug. "If it's not your cup of tea, I won't force it on you, but may recommend some better taste." His teasing is lighthearted and while his features seem stuck in almost a permanent scowl despite himself earlier, his eyes are devoid of any ill intent.
"Not an artist myself, but I can appreciate a good piece when I see one." Matéo ventures a few steps closer, an eye initially on the bird to make sure he wasn't overstepping bounds before peering at her canvas. "And this one seems to be shaping up to be just that. I live just down the ways but can't say I've seen you pass this way before."
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
