“You’re right,” if aunt Mags taught him anything, it was never to argue with a woman. Dominik just enjoyed ruffling Sera’s feathers. Another mistake, he heard, was potentially fatal. He crossed his own arms, careful of the precious glass in his hand, “Marriage is all about the name game. My mom tried marrying me off to some girl overseas when I was your age.” Her sudden disappearance didn’t surprise him, then again, nothing ever did. His family was all kinds of strange.
Dominik wholly believed that if you possessed the talent, why deny it? The modest little smile she had on her lips told him a different story. “Are you? Let’s take a look at your work,” he knocked back the remainder of the cup in his hands and set the empty glass on the mantle. “Any particular subject or are you getting all those feelings down on paper?”
He wasn’t one to judge. His art often consisted of throwing different colors on a canvas until he was satisfied with the feeling it created. His latest was a heart, still drying on its respective easel.