The looking at her part was a bit difficult, Dietre could turn his head in her direction just fine, but his eyes remained downcast save for the occasional flick upwards. It was the best he could do, though he was already more comfortable than he had been before. He couldn't see what Aurora was drawing, only the sweep of her arm as she moved about the canvas. Painting was a mystery to him, his world was not a visual one, there were few people in his life that he had studied enough to elevate them past a hazy general idea of their features in his memory. All he could recall of Vincent was the rich color of his skin and hair, and the warmth of his smile. He wouldn't be able to describe him beyond that, and it was quite certain that when he left Aurora's presence, she would be another vague creature with waves of reddish hair, rosy cheeks, and a bright bell of a laugh.
At being offered the box Dietre paused to give the colors within a bit of consideration. At length he decided on a pale teal sort of color, pointing it out.
"This one, I think."
A moment of silence, and then the boy was speaking in a hurried kind of jumble, as if he worried he might lose his confidence if he didn't get the words out in time.
"I feel like I should pay you back. I have nothing to give you, but...I could...I could write you a sonata. A piano sonata. I don't have a piano, but when I can, I'll write you something, and play it for you..."