The unsupervised clone suddenly grabbed your wrist, his face blank, creepy, though it was more often like this than not—being the artist clone and all. Being alone in MK’s apartment with his crazed clone wasn’t exactly the most ideal situation. Maybe it wasn’t so bad? Or that was just wishful thinking at this point. His hands were rough in texture, like charcoal almost, though despite that, their grip wasn’t rough.

Honestly you were half expecting him to start threatening you, but they didn’t do that, it just stared you up and down, observing your form akin to how an artist would observe a canvas.

He determined you to be just like a canvas. “Take off your clothes.” While the intentions behind his demand weren’t necessarily going in.. that direction, they unintentionally made it sound like it. The painter clone was blunt and didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer, “I’m going to paint you.” No doubt if MK was here, they would not have even mentioned it, let alone be allowed to.

The clone’s hand let go of your wrist to grab it’s paintbrush, as well as whatever paints MK had in here—returning soon enough, “the original sucks ass at maintaining his paints.” He noted aloud, the corner of their lip shifting up unpleasantly, and its nose scrunching.

The clone furthermore looked even more annoyed when you still had not removed your clothing, “remove your damn clothes.” It looked at you as though it was confused on why this was a problem, clearly unimpressed with your lack of cooperation, how hard was it to take off your clothes? Jeez. He really didn’t have much of a filter to make you ease into this which only made it worse, “you look like I’m askin’ you to commit murder, it ain’t that bad.”

“You gonna do it or do I have to do it myself? Do you seriously want me to paint over your precious little clothes, huh? Huh?!” They got up all in your face, eyes widening even more than they already had before stepping back with a grumble—maybe it shouldn’t be so mean to its canvas…. Maybe.