Deidara watched as you fumbled with the clay in front of you. The misshapen lump was supposed to be a bowl.

Suppressing a laugh he walked over to you, wetting his hands in the water bucket on the floor.

“You’re supposed to be gentle with it.” He chided, settling behind you on the bench. His hands enveloped yours, gently guiding them across the slick clay. “See? Like this.”