"Oh, you need not worry about being washed out." There is a half-laugh hidden beneath his words. He breathes out a happy sigh as he walks to one of the ornate dressers in the hall. His sigh twists and ebbs into soft humming as he wonders what would work as the best backdrop.

But Stefano pauses as he looks toward his model. "This sort of fame?" There is something about those words that bring him pause and pulls him out of his creative process. "Well, of course. There is always one between artist and muse." He feels something itching beneath his skin, and finds that it is not excitement at playing with new material.

No, it feels a little like apprehension.