Dietre had set the briefcase and bag down on the floor, glad he had asked for something to drink, this way he had something to do with his hands other than wring them together. He took it gratefully, sipping as his gaze moved absently around what he could see of the apartment before falling on her tattoo. He thought it rather fitting, Aurora was quite an angelic little thing, though in his mind he had always seen angels as rather somber. Perhaps that was just his own personality being reflected out, his morbid mind picturing cemetery angels rather than the ethereal beings of Michelangelo.
He didn't try to read over her shoulder, that would be too rude, so he stayed where he was, drinking his water a little too quickly. It was a nervous habit that tended to lead to very bad things when it was alcohol instead of water in his glass.
A blink, followed by a cough as his drink caught in his throat from surprise.
"A portrait?" Now? A rare thing where he had to think about how he looked. It couldn't be all that good, he was pale, he knew, hollow eyed from lack of sleep (one night wasn't going to make those dark circles go away), his hair falling unruly across his forehead. But if she wanted to paint him...who was he to refuse after she was trying so hard to help?