Tyrants help build us

Bastien

How you lost your mind,
and your wrists got bruised

He did vaguely recognise the woman in the door, in that he knew she'd been here before; with so many people attending his workshops or coming to the studio to vent with paints or sculpture, it was hard to keep track of each one, especially those that only came once. Thankfully, she introduced herself; Bastien put his brush down and lifted himself from the seat to approach and shake her hand.

"I am. Come in, let's sit down. I could do with a break from staring at that anyway." He said, tilting his head towards the canvas. Guiding Isla to the couches in the main room, behind the closed curtain for Ascended comfort away from the sun, he sat down and stretched out over one of them, gesturing for her to take the other. "Please, tell me what you need."

And you wanted better love,
well it's sleeping in your bedroom