"What you are, all o' it? What's dat supposed to mean?" She asked, looking out from the side of her easel. "An' what am I, really, Alistaire? Rather, what do you t'ink I am?"

Her brush strokes were moving a bit faster, now. She appeared to be using the color for his eyes in the painting. It was hard to focus on her word when he was being so... enticing.