Burgh sighed and leaned back from the canvas he’d been staring at intently for the last few hours. His arm brushed up against something wet and sticky; he figured it was either paint or honey, and licked it off absent-mindedly regardless. (It was paint. He wasn’t wholly disappointed at the taste.) Turning his attention back to the painting, the Castelia gym leader’s mouth turned up in a smile as he lifted his brush again. A dab of paint, thrown on the canvas here, just a little detail, and—finished!
Alright, so there were flaws here and there. He admitted it. But then, this was the first piece in weeks that he had actually finished; that fact alone made Burgh feel at least a little pride. He stretched lazily and looked around the studio, briefly noting that it had gotten awfully dark out. A closer look at the clock told him that it was already three in the morning, and probably time for little swadloons to go to sleep. Staggering out of the chair (and popping several joints in his back), Burgh found himself a nice corner of the room and curled up on it. The paper covering the floor was splotched with paint, but he was too tired to care. He’d deal with the stains in the morning.
