It was a mildly sunny cool spring day. Dorian loved days like this. It wasn't too warm, wasn't too cold and there was just enough sun to paint by but not enough to put him in serious danger of sunburn. He loved how the sun would get blocked by clouds and then would suddenly peek through, lighting up the world below.

Knife had helped Dorian set up his easel and paints and canvas and now was sitting a distance away on a park bench, letting Dorian do as he wished. Dorian had made them circle around for a good 20 minutes to find the perfect spot and now he was scanning over the scenery. He held his paint brush poised over the canvas with a bit of blue on the end of it and chewed on his lip trying to decide the perfect spot to apply the color to the canvas. He had a parasol perched on an angle on his shoulder angled to shield him a bit from the sun. His focus was one hundred percent focused on the task at hand and he seemed to be totally unaware of anything but the scene that he was painting.