Roger watched her with interest, his eyes taking in the expressions on her face along with her movements. When she lifted her arm, he caught sight of the scars, filing away the image of them in his mind for a moment. "No, it's okay," Roger said reassuringly. Pushing off the wall, he stood beside her and said, "You can touch the painting if you want." As if to demonstrate, he reached out, running his fingers over the wheat, feeling the grain of his brush strokes beneath the pads of his fingers. "For a second, you almost think you might feel the wheat, you know?" Which was a testament to how good his art work was, he supposed, although for once he wasn't really bragging.