Arian walked out of the room holding up his arms a bit. The long sleeves fell over his hands and made him laugh. âItâs bright pink!â Pulling the sleeves down Arian made his way over to Emrys. âBut your right, it is you mister painter. I shouldnât be surprised.â Grinning heâŠ
Arian took a few large skips after Emrys and nodded. âYeah, itâs nice and fluffy out today.â He grinned, the term fluffy being something he used often to mean like it was cozy. âMaybe you should try wearing one of my shirts some times. I think it would be funny to see how small they are on you.â Grabbing his wallet off the table By the door he opened the door and skipped a few steps out before turning around to look at Emrys. âYour shirts all smell like paint you know that?â Arian ducked his head down a bit to sniff the first he was wearing and smile. âI like it.â
"In all honesty I think Iâd rip one of your shirts." Needless to say Emrys was the bigger of the two. Which explained why his shirt was so big on Arian. "You know I live for painting- hell, just take a look around." His small house was littered with both complete and unfinished canvasâ as well as stacks of sketchbooks with design ideas inside. His art was his life. "Itâs a miracle they only smell like paint and arenât covered in it."
"I like your paintings." Arian grinned, looking in the door way and past Emrys at all the paintings every where. "I like all your work actually, and I like the smell. It reminds me of you." Shrugging a shoulder he grinned, hoping down a few steps then turning back around to face Ermys. "Come on slow poke!"
"Iâm glad such a universal thing like the smell of paint reminds you of me. Iâm touched, really." And he really was but that didnât stop the sarcasm dipping into his words. He couldnât help it, it was a habit by now. Emrys was in no rush but when he was called a slowpoke the competitive side of him took over as he quickly caught up with Arian. âOh shush. You should take things easy every now and again. Enjoy going slow.â















