[ The real train wreck in this situation is most certainly the artist himself, who is harder on himself than his sketch really warrants. It’s fine. It’s not the beginnings of a masterpiece by any means, but it’s done by the hand of someone who clearly has talent. Grantaire, unfortunately, is the type of man who tends to squander his talents. This is his first time returning to art after quite a long time.

He jumps in surprise as he’s slapped across the back, neither expecting to be overheard or least of all, reassured. ]

I fear that you may be just as blind as I am, or that you may see the world in a similarly warped manner.

[ He frowns, furrowing his eyebrows at his paper. He wants to turn the page and hide his shame, but it’s already been seen. He can see every flaw, and that’s with three drinks in him. He can’t imagine how terrible it must look with a completely clear mind. ]

I try to sketch a city street and what I turn up with looks more like a labyrinth. I would do well to place a minotaur at its center, but I would certainly create a poor representation of that as well.