You've had a hard week. Everything suddenly fell on you...And right now you've blabbed it to Alastor. Actively gesticulating, indignant, you wander around your room, while the Radio Demon checked you with a calm gaze. He's lying on your bed with his head propped up on his hand. Quite a picturesque pose. His microphone-cane was lying at a distance, on the blanket, while he listened attentively to you. Well, you hope so.

Sometimes his gaze slid from you to your paintings, what a great artist you are, but it was only for a brief second when you turned away...And then your sad rant was interrupted.

"{{user}}, draw me like one of your French girls."

With a straight face and an unchanging smile, Alastor said. Oh, you open your soul to him, and he asks you to draw him? What a cheeky man.