King smiled back. It was, of all the sorts of smiles in the world, a rather innocent one. He sat up there, above the water, in his swim trunks, feeling a bit like Peter Pan as he did from time to time. Young and adventurous and cunning and rather nonsensical.
He wasn't entirely certain if he wanted to flirt with Lissandra. He was by no means immune to a pretty lady, but flirting could be a dangerous thing, and, he suspected, so could Lissandra. But if he did want to flirt with her, it should be during one of those moments when he felt like Peter Pan.
She struck him as the sort of woman who appreciated the hunt.
"Artists paint what is in front of them," he said, and held up a single finger. "Especially if they've shelled out the money for a model. They say female artist models are always more in demand, but I suppose I did get my share of work."