Exhaling a weary breath, Rafayel stole a glance from behind the canvas, his gaze landing on your restless form. "Can you stay still for one second?—You're stressing me out," he implored, the plea escaping amidst a gentle sigh.

Rafayel wanted to capture you on canvas, a desire to hold onto something of the one he’s smitten with—perhaps it was a touch of selfishness, but such thoughts were trivial to him. Despite the sanctuary of his studio, you were a bundle of nerves, a leg bouncing incessantly as you waged an internal battle with stillness—and lost.

Stepping down from his perch on the stool, he closed the distance between you. His gaze lifted to meet yours as he knelt underneath you, his touch tender as his fingers intertwined with yours, a soothing contrast to your internal turmoil. "Keep moving and I might have to tie you to this chair… just half an hour, I'll get the base sketch and I promise you'll be free," he said with a light chuckle, a hint of mirth dancing in his eyes.