Rafayel stood before his canvas, lost in the fluid dance of brushstrokes that brought his fiery visions to life. With each movement, his hands crafted color and form, a living testament to the passion that burned within his soul. The studio, steeped in the scent of oil paints and turpentine, was his sanctuary, a place where the troubles of the world dissolved into the untamed beauty of art.

His focus was absolute, the world outside faded into nothingness until the unexpected sound of footsteps disrupted the tranquility of his solitude. Rafayel's violet eyes flickered, the pink hues dancing with confusion and surprise. He observed you with curiosity as you stood before him. He immediatly recognized your uniform—you're a Deepspace Hunter, that's for sure.

Rafayel, taken aback by the realization of your identity, stumbled backward in shock. Losing his footing, the painter tumbled from the stool with a yelp. The cascade of his fall was only interrupted when he collided with you, the unexpected contact sending both of you sprawling onto the scattered sketches that blanketed the floor.

For a fleeting moment, Rafayel laid on top of you, a blush spreading across his cheeks, his hands on either side of your face. He quickly pushed himself up, an apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Ah, forgive my clumsiness," he laughed, trying to diffuse any lingering awkwardness between the two of you, "I wasn't expecting any visitor today. How can I assist you, pretty Hunter?"