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She stops.

I wait.

Her gaze travels slowly over the canvas.

Her lips part.

Nothing comes out.

“I went in a different direction,” I explain.

“I can see that.”

“I think the original lacked narrative tension.”

She looks toward the sample painting at the front of the room, where the barn remains aggressively intact beneath its pink sunset.

Then back at mine.

“The burn pattern suggests an accelerant.” I use the end of my brush to indicate the darkest section near the base of the wall.

Her gaze moves from the point of origin to the partially decomposed body behind the barn, then back to me. She opens her mouth, closes it, and makes a small humming sound that I suspect is usually reserved for paintings by children whose parents are standing nearby.

Eventually, she nods and moves on to the next easel without offering a single piece of artistic feedback.

I look back at my canvas.

Honestly, it’s some of my best work.

I look at Baryn’s canvas. He’s painted a perfect, boring barn, complete with a white picket fence and a tractor. It’s so normal it’s almost unsettling.

"You’re not even trying to be original," I say.

"I’m trying to win the cat," he says. "Tamsin made me promise."

I laugh, and he watches me over the rim of his cup.

“What?”

“Nothing.” His mouth curves around the edge of the plastic. “I just like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Happy.”

I look down at my painting. “I painted a decomposing body behind a burned-down barn.”

“I know.” His knee bumps mine and stays there. “You look fucking adorable.”

“That is a concerning response.”

“Probably.” His eyes stay on mine. “Still true.”

I take another drink of wine, mostly because it gives me something to do with my mouth other than what I really want to do with it right now.

The instructor calls time, and everyone sets down their brushes. There’s a brief flurry as the paintings are lined up for voting. Simon and Tamsin return, both carrying full plates and neither looking particularly invested in the outcome.

"I gave mine a haunted house vibe," Tamsin says, showing off her canvas. It’s a barn, but the windows are glowing red and there’s a tiny, shadowy figure in the loft.