Acumen: Riddling Life

36. Prague, Czech republic

I force a smile, responding in a quiet voice, "Hi," and wave my hand based on habit. And regretting it as he beams.

That's when I catch orange paint smeared on his forehead. I try not to stare or squint. Why would he have paint on himself?

Looking closer, I note his black Pink Floyd t-shirt has white and orange paint on it too. As well as his hands.

Does he paint?

I push the thought away. None of my business.

"Arianna told me to talk to you about our plans for today, so we would have a plan when we get downstairs," I inform him.

His smile falters the slightest, "Ari told you to come here and see me?" he asks in a weird tone, as if my answer disappointed him. Why would he be disappointed though?

"Yeah," I reply, nodding.

With a curt nod, he steps aside for me. I step into his suite, avoiding him. Please don't be in a bad mood.

One thing I know is that Adrien in his grim mood is not only unpredictable but also very cruel. Old habits die hard, I can't help but steer clear of his path whenever I sense that he's in the bad mood, or shifting into it.

He closes the door behind me. I bring my gaze up, and it lands on a breathtaking painting. Drawn with an insane amount of details, set alongside the perfect view of the window. Countless paints scattered on the desk, placed on its side.

Unable to pull my eyes away from it, I remain in the middle of the room staring at it. With few blinks, I stop goggling. And realize Adrien is standing next to me, attention fixed on me, studying my features.

"It's..." I start, but not finding a word that would do it justice as a compliment.

"It's not mine," he blurts out and looks elsewhere, walking to his desk.

"Really?" I ask, tilting my head.

He nods, his back facing me. "It's..." he starts, but his voice trails down, after a long pause he finishes, "Arianna's,"

"Oh," I try to hide my surprise.

Daring, I take a step towards the canvas and another. Soon I stand a pace away from Adrien and the painting.

I inspect the picture. A sunset, with the same view visible from the window. The sunray colored with remarkable accuracy and detail, glinting the lake and the white buildings. The blue sky, turning into a mixture of pink, orange, and yellow, similar to real life.

He takes a stride backward and I observe the painting closer.

"Be careful, it's fresh paint. Won't come off skin easily," he mumbles.

The windows, the walls. I cannot imagine the time it must have taken to draw and color it.

"What do you think?" he queries, making me glance at him. His green-blue eyes, brighter than usual, study me.

"It's great," I answer.

His eyebrows raise high as he leans towards me, "Really?" he asks, sounding surprised. A smile threatening to form on his face.

"Not that I know anything about art, but it's truly beautiful,"

For a moment he grins, cheeks turning pink. Then looks away, rubbing the nape of his neck, and nods.

I'm aware I shouldn't, I'm not even that close to Adrien. But maybe it's the effects of the previous night's half a glass of wine. Or I just feel better. I can't help myself and add, "I never realized Arianna is so good at painting,"