"You can let the complement exist, you know." They can't help but shake their head, incredulously smiling at how nostalgic this silly little set up is. Can't help but wince at the nasty sound of vinyl on wood, though.
"Alas." They tut, securing the last of the easel. "A few hundred sweeps getting used to one's title makes it more of an issue to change back. Besides, I'm disappointingly divorced from my hatchname." At least to those fresh off of interacting with their own Zahhak. Loom takes out a comically classic, wooden pallet.
The fact that their host is blushing pings off their pan like a cellphone tower, "Unless you prefer the intimate, perverse pleasure of the familiar. I won't deprive you, Eridan." In fact, such banter makes them forget, for a little bit, what a little cosmic freak they've become. Setting the pallet aside in the little shelf of the easel, Loom thinks.
The satisfyingly even tempo of their footsteps thumps on the wood, as they pace to the direction of warmth. A window, maybe? "Do you have a greenhouse, or a few potted plants we could commandeer?" A formality, of course he does. "Some very dramatic lighting is in order..." They tap their chin, the act of which triggers the new 'heir of light' powers: the room suddenly looks like a Rembrandt painting, high contrast and severe shadows from no apparent source.
"My portfolio is on my blog." Another chin tap, less harsh shadows. Yeah, that feels good! "No immolation required, I assure you."
They step back, hum. "Here, please." They gently wave him over, pointing to a spot that tickles the brain. The wood is so shiny that it makes bounce lighting. Oooo. With a gesture, the rim lighting becomes a dim violet... Yeah, he should like that.
They hardly notice his last remark, "Hm? Your hairline is fine, don't be foolish." Making him look dignified... Well, that's where the real trouble lies. The impossible will take a little while.
Loom pantomimes and poses a few different ways. Standing up straight, they end up with a hand tucked under their crop top, weight settled on one hip. "Try something like this? Your hand between the belts." Rather than under a boob. Very Napoleon coded, if Napoleon was stuck in an oyster for a very long time.