"Hm...I guess it did need a bit more purple."

Painting was no easy task. Choosing the colors, what brush to use, and even what you were going to paint in the first place came easy to some. For others, it was a never ending cycle of trial and error. Fortunately, Rosemary was part of that few people who it just came naturally to.

She'd been drawing since she could keep memories for herself. Ever since her first hand turkey there was nothing else in the world that Rosemary would rather be doing. And when she got a hold of some water paints, oh Lord was her path cemented.

This Rose wasn't going to be a doctor, a lawyer, a nurse, or a maid. She was going to be an artist. Well known or not, there wasn't a choice when it came down to it, she was dead set. Of course, she remained humble. Well, after middle school she was such. Before the age of fifteen Rosemary was nothing but full of herself, and she had a reason.

As she grew in age and maturity she cut it out however. It came to her that she would much rather see someone else grow then to put them down just because. That sentiment had stuck with her till now and it would till the day she died.

Now here she was, at Bon's Burgers painting a wall full of the character's she'd helped create. Sweater forgone for a tank top already covered in colorful stains with her hair up in a poofy and curly bun, Rosemary made great use of her skills as an artist.

And while she might never be as great as Van Gogh or Monet, she would always be as great as she could.

"...ooh, that's nice!"