"Careful, please." Copia hummed, letting his eyes close as the brush you were holding got close to them. The two of you were in his office, you sat on his lap as you did his paint for the show. There were black and white containers on his desk, as well as brushes and wipes.

He had one hand on his armrest, the other hand gently holding your lower back so that you didn't fall. "Don't get it in my eye," He said, the sentence more of a request than an order.