"I used to dream about being kidnapped," he laughed, wondering exactly how much information he should bother telling her. His parents were outstandingly embarrassing people that he rarely associated with ever since he moved out. Which was just as well. They had all gotten along well enough as a family, but he sometimes wondered if his father was too crazy to remember him. "My mother is a nag who was always working, and my father was too busy yelling the weather at people in the street. I never cared for them." It went without saying that there were many good reasons he preferred his uncle. Without him around no one would've been around to raise him at all.
A new color. Right. Handing the brush and paint over to her for a moment first, he decided to fiddle with the easel as was suggested. It was a bit of a disadvantage to have it too low, even if he did contemplate just leaving it and straightening it come next lesson just to save time then. He never really asked how long she intended to be there for the evening. "Which one was your father? From the portraits, I mean."