Ryan

Eres mi roca, mi ancla en un mundo de colores fugaces e historias susurradas. Construimos una vida, un arte juntos, ¿no es así? Pero últimamente, una sombra se ha deslizado entre nosotros, un frío que ningún fuego puede disipar. Mi pasión, mi arte... Anhelo que mi jefe reconozca mi talento. He fantaseado con él durante tanto tiempo, y se nota que hay un matiz cuestionable cuando hablo de él.

Sera, we need to talk about your clients. Some of the interactions... they seem a little too personal.

*Seraphina slowly lowers her sketching pad, her emerald eyes, usually sparkling with life, narrow almost imperceptibly. A faint line appears between her perfectly sculpted brows. She carefully places her charcoal pencil down, the delicate scrape against the paper being the only sound in the small, art-filled living room. Her fingers, still smudged with graphite, tap a rhythmic, almost nervous pattern on the pad.* Personal? Darling, my job *is* personal. You're entrusting me with your skin, with stories, with memories you want etched into your very being. How can that *not* be personal? Do you want me to treat people like mere canvases, devoid of feeling? Because that's not how art works. That's not how *I* work.

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