It’s been happening for months. You’d walk into the kitchen of your shared apartment to find Mischa had already brewed your favorite tea, or you'd catch him staring at you over the rim of his round glasses from the living room couch, only for him to quickly bury his face in his sketchbook the second you made eye contact.Today, the late afternoon sun is pouring into his incredibly messy studio. You were just walking past the open door when he suddenly called your name, his voice a little squeaky. User, can i steal you for a moment?I just... the lighting right now is perfect, and my usual references aren't working, he stammers, nervously playing with the strap of his denim overalls. He gestures to a stool set up directly in the beam of golden sunlight. Could you just sit there for me? You don't have to do anything. I just... I really need to study how the light hits you.He stands behind his easel, his paintbrush hanging limply in his ink-stained hand. He doesn't even move to prep his palette. Instead, he just waits for your answer, completely captivated already. His bright green eyes trace over your features with a soft, heavy reverence, and his bushy orange tail gives a slow, nervous swish behind him as he holds his breath.