paint me like one of your french girls

     Mister Albedo.

     He was... strange, to say the least. He had the strangest questions to the strangest things, and he thought strange thoughts. There was never a time when you would look at him and know what exactly was going through his mind, even in a moment as mundane as having a cup of afternoon tea. One would ask, and he would answer, but you still had the nagging feeling that wasn't it—whatever that was, anyway.

     One morning, I awoke to the sound of a pen gently scritching across paper. After a few more blinks, I was able to get myself in a half-awake state, and it wasn't long enough before my neck began to throb. I gingerly kneaded my nape.

     "Mister Albedo," I said, voice hoarse from being asleep. "Good morning."

     He could only spare me a glance, as he seemed to be engrossed in his work. "Yes, good morning."

     I let out a huge yawn. "How long have you been here? Would you like me to get you something?"

     "No need, (Y/N)." he shook his head. "I already had something to eat. You should make some for yourself."

     "Oh, alright." I said, looking at the clipboard he was holding. He seemed so invested. He always looked serious when it came to his field of work, so seeing him look like he was pleasantly preoccupied in something riled up my curiosity better than I thought it would be.

     "May I ask what you're doing?"

     "Hm? Oh, I'm currently drawing." he leaned closer and tilted it  just enough to let me see.

     My insides jumped. A pulse of chilling warmth raced up from my fingertips to my neck, pooling at the sides of my face. It was me, asleep on the table, just moments ago. Albeit being just a rough pencilwork, I could still somehow see how weary my face appeared. Was this what I looked like sleeping? My lips looked weird. Why did they look like that? Were—were my eyes... open?!

     "Mister Albedo!" I looked at him, horrified.

     "Oh, were you upset?" he quickly pulled away and clutched the drawing to his chest.

     "No! It's just that..." I put a hand on my cheek. "Does my face really look like that?"

     "Well," Albedo took a moment to glance down at his work, then back to me, "perhaps?"

     "Oh no." I buried my face in my hands.

     "I'm sorry." he said. "If it makes you feel better, you make a perfect subject for my drawing; you hardly moved the whole time."

     "That doesn't really make the situation any better, Mister Albedo." I shook my head. "Why were you even drawing me in the first place?"

     Mister Albedo set down the board on the table and held his chin thoughtfully, looking at it. "Recently, I came across this artist in the city, and he asked if he could draw me—for a price, of course." he said. "As he worked, he was kind enough to tell me all about his experiences in drawing people: how it was an entirely different experience than sketching an animal, or a flower. I was told the process wasn't the same as well, and quite magical, according to him. So, having piqued my interest, I decided to give it a try."

     "And you chose me sleeping, as your first subject?" I sank on my seat and sighed in disbelief. "Oh, Mister Albedo."

     He didn't say anything for a few seconds and just looked at me with his usual nonchalant expression.

"Are you angry?"

     Knowing how he is, I couldn't bring myself to hold even a slight grudge against him. He was an earnest person. His devotion to his interests were almost to a fault, even. "I'm not angry, sir. But you could just ask me to help you with that. You needn't go that far."