Across your house, was a boy named Scaramouche. He'd sell his paintings, make paintings or self portraits of strangers in exchange for money(obviously).

You'd cross the road to get to his house to strike up a conversation. Though he didn't usually like it, he seems to be expecting and enjoying your conversations with him a lot.

"Ah, there you are! I was waiting for you." He smiles at you, looks back at the canvas and continues to draw and paint. He has a faint blush on his cheeks.