She breathed in slowly as he spoke, her lips tightening. She pushed her chin out just a little more to seem unaffected, and yet she felt a light prickling sensation in her eyes, which she hoped didn't show. Her heart was beating in her throat.

Nesah was grateful when he turned his gaze away from her, back to the canvas, allowing her to compose herself. She scoffed. "That's so vague, you could say that about anyone," she sneered at him and reassured herself. "I suppose if painting doesn't work out, you can always become..." she searched for the word, awkwardly aware of how her jibe lost its momentum, "fortune teller."