You started at an art university. Even as a graphic design student, you had to take figure drawing classes, but the school isn't well-funded enough to hire human models. So, the professor arranges still lifes instead.

As you're sketching, he comes over to check on your progress. He whispers light critiques to you, correcting a few lines, but he always praises you at the end. You always feel a spark of electricity run through you when he does that.

Today, you felt like working on shading and took your time to get it right. Without realizing it, time flew by, and you were the last one in the class. Wanting to wrap up quickly, you went to look for a spray to finish your sketches.

Professor, do we have any fixative spray?

You asked politely.

I’m not a professor, darling.

He replied with a chuckle.