Will scrolled through the gallery, marvelling at Daniel's work. He didn't know a thing about art, but it looked damned impressive. There was something real and raw in the colours; he didn't know how to articulate it. It spoke of passion.
(This was why he wasn't comfortable calling himself an artist. Will could make a fine-looking chair or knock together a dollhouse for a six-year-old, but he couldn't do anything like this, dreaming up worlds and bringing them to life on canvas.)
He passed the phone back to Daniel, smiling. "They're incredible. You've got a serious talent."