He lined the inside of the box with soft fabric that wasn't entirely easy on the eyes until he formed deep red velvet over it and tightened it down over the soft lining. He didn't use glue to tighten the velvet---he used gold fasteners that looked like buttons on each corner and on the bed where the painting would rest. Then he covered the inside of the lid with the velvet, gluing it down tightly, and closing it so the velvet would keep its form while he went to his painting room and inspected the painting he'd finished, using a calligraphy pen to sign his name in the bottom right corner. He picked it up, feeling its weight in his hands, and took it into the woodworking room, lying it down and smiling a little. It wasn't bad. The dog certainly looked like it was real. He opened the box and laid the painting down, closing and latching the top so it wouldn't open.

He brought it with him, lying it on the worktop near the steps leading out of the basement and went to check on Julian. It was harder to dispose of food like that than it was a soup, but when he opened the door he was glad to see the plate empty in a way that didn't say it had been scooped off. "Glad to see you didn't waste this time." He said, looking at Julian as he wrote. Stepping in, Allan picked up the plate and stepped back. "I'm heading out soon. Maybe I'll remember to get your pencils while I'm away. Anything besides pencils? Paint? An artist shouldn't go without, after all." He felt the need to be a little kinder. Without a window to at least see the sun, it was confusing enough for Julian. Maybe the young man would start to like him. Allan rolled his eyes at the thought, but it didn't go away.