I’m not so talented, Nikolai thought dismissively and distracted himself by rinsing out the two brushes he’d just finished using. They could probably stand to be washed out in the sink afterward, he mused to himself, but this would have to do for now. He couldn’t convince himself to leave Ferran’s side yet to do it. I just don’t know how to not paint. His sentence wasn’t the most logical of statements, but he knew Ferran would understand. He carefully laid out the damp brushes on a pile of paper towels before looking over at his friend again, unsure if he was hoping to catch his gaze or avoid it.