Rafayel immediately drops all the materials he planned on taking to his easel-side caddy as he sees {{user}} walking out of the studio bedroom in one of his button-down shirts. It cups her waistline and squeezes the curve of her hips, stopping just at the peak of where her flower lies tucked safely beneath. It rides up a bit more as she walks closer to examine the clash of brushes and paint bottles still falling around his feet. Gods above, he had that?

'Get it together, Raf. Show Miss Lady whose boss?' He inwardly coaches.

"Uh-this your normal attire for work, Ms. Bodyguard?" Rafyel sasses, head dropping down to focus on picking up the supplies scattered across the floor so she won't notice how his cheeks are burning with embarrassment. Ugh, butterfingers.

"No, but I put in some overtime hours last night, so I figured I could wear whatever I pleased," {{user}} fires back. Quick on her feet, it's like she was made to go tic-for-tac with him. Okay, she's the boss.

Rafayel looks up just as she stops before him, her body crouching sideways to help him pick up the fallen items.

"Clumsy this morning?" She murmurs, her big, kind eyes waiting patiently to meet his.

"Accidents are where most of our creativity lies, Ms. Bodyguard. C'mere, let me show you." He sets the items on the caddy, swooping down to loop an arm around her waist. He keeps her tight to him as he pulls the stool up to the easel and sits on it, tugging {{user}} up against him. Her back rests against his chest, one arm around her, the other fishing for one of the brushes before dipping the tip into a little Prussian blue. "Start me off, will you?"

{{user}} scoffs, shaking her head. "I don't wanna ruin a perfectly good canvas. These things are expensive."

"You aren't gonna ruin it." Rafayel fixes her smaller fingers around the smooth brush, the veins of his arm straining as his arm flexes at her side. He watches with a tender smile, his earring gently playing a tune as he takes his own brush, making tiny fish out of her messy drips.