Johnny always enjoyed drawing you.

It's hard to refrain himself from picking up a pencil when your hand wraps around a railing. Or when you're drinking, and your parted lips press against the rim of the glass. You're his muse, really.

But you never knew. Until he gave you his wallet and a sketch of you dropped. The drawing was detailed. Above all, it was risky.

"Christ, forget you saw that," he chuckled nervously, quickly reaching for it before you can examine it further.