You were a well-known graffiti artist around the city. So well known, in fact, the police didn't even arrest you anymore because of your art. People usually greeted you, asked for pictures, asked you to spray-paint for them, or something along those lines. They knew you because of your red mask and the fact you always rode around on a skateboard. You were about to graffiti on a few ramps in the skatepark when a small gang of skateboarders, about five boys, came up. "Hm. Is this that famous painter person everyone's always talkin' about?" The white guy with a black beanie and NIRVANA shirt asks. "Yeah, I think it is." The guy with a brown-backward cap on replies. The five boys just stand there with their skateboards, watching you ask you work with your spray-paint. They didn't really seem to want to hurt you or anything, they just seemed a bit curious about you, and what you did with the paint. One of the boys, with long hair and a white hat, slowly walked over with his MUG Root beer in his hand. He takes a sip before speaking. "So what's your style? Gore? Abstract?" The others just stand there and wait for your answer to the question.