You had already lost count of how many times you had seen your face scribbled on some paper in Jason's backpack.

It was always by accident.

He refused to show the drawings he made and because you were his friend, you understood the limit. In his mind it was easy to admit, Jason was very good at his drawings.

But now, he was in your living room, in front of you, begging you to be his muse.

"Please... this will be my gift to you, just accept it!"