He gives Alec another side glance and returns to the yellow, mixing a couple of variations.

But he hesitates, poised to put brush to the canvas again, his self-assuredness dissipating. He's used to working on someone else's art, maintaining it, repairing damaged and missing sections. He's used to paint-by-number with a bit of detective work involved, filling in on someone else's plan. And now he's looking at a blank slate with infinite possibilities and nothing to guide him except a little smudge of yellow in the corner.

"Well, any requests?"