He ate very little despite having not eaten much at all during the day. Instead of dealing with his somersaulting stomach, Cian preferred to work on his project while he was able. While the sun was still up he had given up on trying to think about something other than Layland, feeling that his picture wouldn't be seen by the man anyway. He didn't seem the creative type that would want to dwell on anything in the art building anyway. Maybe that was good. Maybe he didn't even believe in magic. It didn't matter---Layland didn't even like him. Probably couldn't stand him.

In the well-lit spare bedroom, which he had emptied beyond his boxes of supplies, his easel, and a stool to sit on. A few floor lamps chased away the shadows in the room and the curtain was open, showing him the road if he wanted to look outside to see someone go by---which was rare, though they could easily see in. His brush carefully stroked the paper, lying coats of paint onto the canvas. The implication was already there---the contours of the face and the tone the skin would be was identical to Layland and as Cian drew, he blinked hard to keep himself composed. He was almost angry. Angry that someone would use artificial mixtures to try to win someone over. It wasn't real. It was all a facade. He wanted to hit Layland, but was definitely not strong enough to do harm. It would only make him mad. Mad enough to hit Cian back, perhaps. He bit his lips, growling through a wave of negative emotion until it settled down again.