[ Painting he can handle. As for everything else right now, the verdict is more hazy—he feels fine, abuzz with energy, but it's only a matter of time before his next crash. All the more reason to keep moving. He ushers Shinji inside, striding back into his apartment. ]
It's nothing strenuous.
[ He has a paper laid out, almost swallowing up the whole surface of the small, living room table. The space is drawn out on it, brushstrokes more haphazard than his norm, though still forming obvious shapes: the window here, a cupboard there.
But there's a plainly empty blank, too. Here comes his perfectly innocent request. ]
you asked for this
It's nothing strenuous.
[ He has a paper laid out, almost swallowing up the whole surface of the small, living room table. The space is drawn out on it, brushstrokes more haphazard than his norm, though still forming obvious shapes: the window here, a cupboard there.
But there's a plainly empty blank, too. Here comes his perfectly innocent request. ]
Would you mind standing over there?