Ink was idly painting in the white-space void. He'd been sitting here doing this for hours at this point, not realizing how long it'd been. He'd made multiple paintings, most of landscapes but some of himself with his friends. The paintings were scattered around him to dry, and he was focused on a new one at the moment. He was drawing a dog at the moment you'd come in. His eyes were a star and a spiral, and he was clearly so focused on his art he didn't notice you pop in.