Paintbrush grunted, their bristles getting a bit hotter. They tried to quickly calm themselves down as for their hair not to start fire. Again. They had messed something up in their painting, their grip tightening on the brush in their hand, breaking it in half out of pure spite. They groaned loudly and angrily, walking out of their messy, basic artist hotel room, not bothering to remove their painting apron before going out.

“..ugh.”

They stomped down the hallway, lost in their mind.