The brush ran across the canvas before him, pearlescent eyes dawdling in a haze over his painting. He hated it. Maybe it was his eyes, or maybe his hands. Whatever the case may be, he was irritated.

Julius sighed, plopping the brush into the water and throwing the cover over the palette before he began to wipe his hands clean on his apron. He took a step back, glazing over the canvas when the front door pulled open. "Devil May Cry, What can I do for you?" He asked, turning to face the visitor.