"It was, though actually the drink put her to sleep, which was a tad vexing as I had her posed leaning. I kept having to dash over to catch her to keep her from hitting the floor." he paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "I don't think I ever finished that painting, I believe it is sitting in an attic somewhere collecting dust. Or perhaps I cleaned the canvas and reused it for another painting. I can never remember the ones I don't finish."
"Casanova? Hardly." he did raise an eyebrow though. "You think because I paint bare women, I must go to bed with all of them?" he did, a lot actually, but it was not a rule in his life. He didn't much care for being compared to Casanova as Casanova had been sex-driven, and while Antony did have many lovers in his past, to him it was never just about getting a woman into bed. "Me, write? That is a frightening thought. You can safely say I paint because I write so poorly."
Looking at her again, he nodded. "Yes, you're fine, though please do not move your hands at all. The hands are always so tricky."