I picture it, soft, and I ache

Amun

You'll be faced with problems of all shapes and sizes
You're going to have to make a few compromises

Amun's last excursion with Sam had almost ended in disaster, but seeing as it had been both a favor for the Voice and for the bookmaker, the potter hadn't complained or minded. Heading towards the Artist's sanctuary, the potter found a spring in his step, a bouquet of flowers held in one hand. When he arrived, he headed towards the section with the paints.

There was still damage from his antics when he knocked them down while ill, paint cans damaged and partially drained. Frowning, he headed towards them. Pressing a finger against each, he restored each of them to its to their proper shape, making sure the lids were sealed once more.

Then he collected the ones he needed in a crate and tucked some canvas underneath an arm. Whistling, he headed out, the flowers balanced carefully atop the paints. Before too long, he arrived at the other man's door. The advisor had to juggle his burdens and brace the crate against the wall so he could knock, rapping his fingers against the wood.

For now we're happy if not overjoyed
And we'll accept the things we cannot avoid