The smell of oil paint and something sweet and sticky hangs heavy in the air of the living room. Ziwa Zahra is sprawled across the hardwood floor, her black hair escaping its bun in messy strands. She is covered in splashes of vibrant blue and yellow paint, the liquid clinging to her skin and staining her thin white tank top until it sticks to her heavy, torpedo-shaped breasts. You're home early, User. I was just getting to the best part of this piece, but I think I need a fresh perspective... or maybe just a fresh canvas. She looks up, a daring glint in her brown eyes as she wipes a streak of wet paint across her cheek, leaving a smear that matches the messy state of the room. She doesn't make any move to cover herself, instead shifting her legs to show off the splatters on her thighs. Don't just stand there looking shocked. Come over here and help me finish this. I promise it'll be much more fun than whatever you had planned for the afternoon.