"Holy shit! Who are you? Wait, why aren't you wearing any pants?" The other person's voice sounded out from a side. Rowan didn't stupidly swing the knife in his hand. However, his other hand was trying to wipe the paint off his eyes.
The other person then laughed as if picking up another can, based on the clunk in the distance. "I'll just cover you in paint! If you don't follow me out, I won't kill you!"
"Kill me?" Rowan managed to open his eyes and saw through the sting of paint. Before him was a short person holding a can overhead. "You want to kill me, too?"
"Eh?" The short person twitched, only to see how Rowan threw the kitchen knife straight toward the can. Since it was from a poor-quality brand, the blade wrecked the can open. Paint poured on the other person, too. The short person gasped before throwing the can at Rowan.
Bang! Rowan chose to evade it because the knife was on it as well. It's just that the can hit the painting standing near Rowan. Paint splashed on it, ruining it. The canvas also tore at the breakage of the easel. Instead of keeping his eyes on the short person, Rowan only stared at the thing he failed to protect.
The short person stood in front of the doorway. "Psh, why are you so sad? Did you make that trashy thing instead? The world can do with one less stupid—"
"Just because it's not mine doesn't mean no one worked hard for it." Rowan glared at the short person, making the other shriek in pure terror. Rowan dared to charge again, but the other person stepped back and closed the door on Rowan.
Bang! Rowan felt how his entire body radiated with pain after he ran into the door. He fell down on the floor and curled up like a ball. The short person still spoke from outside, "Stop crying! Duke's not here, so I'm leaving already. Tell him to seek me if he's angry about the painting!"
Step! Step! Step! Running footsteps echoed away from him. Rowan figured the next door that closed with a slam was the main door. Instead of squirming, Rowan lay on the floor for a few seconds. After a while, he got up and stared at the ruined painting in the distance. His eyes closed.
…
When Duke returned home, he noticed how the small piece of paper he left on it was fixed differently on the door. It meant someone opened the door and dared put it back where it should have been. He didn't know if Rowan would care to do that, but he knew the poor guy would not leave the house at all. It only meant one thing…
"Rowan?" Duke opened the main door and walked in. His eyes spotted a wet patch on the floor as if someone cleaned something up from there. He slowly walked and removed his shoes, tracking the trail of the wet patches from the door.
Soon enough, he was led to the studio. He had not yet seen Rowan, but seeing that someone cleaned the floor with care, he figured Rowan was still home… and alive.
"Rowan?" He called out again as he opened the door to the studio. Instead of a very suffocating smell of paint and thinner, the scent of a cleaning agent pervaded the air in the studio. Someone actually cleaned the studio? He then walked over to the covered painting.
A note was on it, and Duke took it to look over. It said: [I'm really sorry. I tried replicating it but couldn't make it look like you made it.]
"What happened here?" Duke lifted the cover and saw something exquisite had replaced the ugly painting he made. The old one was just based on Reeva's checklist, so the new one couldn't hit some of them. Duke just squatted down to a good angle and took a photo of the painting to send to Reeva.
[Me: Is this good enough?]
[Reeva S.: That can't be your painting. The ones I specified aren't on it, either. But holy shit, I'll take that one more than any of yours, thank you.]
[Reeva S.: Did you fix an artist's hand on yours? Did you just switch it out when you did the surgery?]
Duke only snorted at the second text. He didn't reply to the other, leaving Reeva to laugh out his amusement. After all, he still needed to find Rowan.
The doctor got to his feet and covered the painting. He kept the note in his pocket and looked around for the poor guy. After seconds of walking around, Duke finally found Rowan in the bathroom of his guest room. The poor guy was laundering a shirt, getting paint off it.
"Rowan." Duke leaned on the doorframe, speaking softly so as to not startle Rowan. However, whatever noise would still startle Rowan, nonetheless.
"D-Duke…" Rowan turned to find the man by the door. He glanced at the shirt he was scrubbing on the floor. Soap and suds were all over his arms and the floor, so none of them should move from their places. The poor guy only kept his eyes on Duke. "I'm sorry about the painting…"
"What happened? You didn't clean half the house for no reason, right?" Duke smiled, hoping to dispel fear from the other person. "It's okay, I won't hold it against you."
Rowan stared at Duke for a moment before recalling everything that happened. He didn't know who that person was, but that person surely knew Duke. At the short encounter, Duke's eyes only glinted with a flash of anger. However, his smile continued to intensify.
Then he laughed when Rowan finished. "Seek him if I'm angry? How childish. Does he think I will play the game he wants me to lose? What an idiot."
Duke just walked closer to Rowan and squatted carefully. "Don't bother about that shirt anymore. Let's just buy a few more to fit you better. I also need you to come with me tomorrow. After all, that second painting is actually something we're supposed to sell. You want to meet whoever buys it, correct?"
"…that was… oh, no… I'm really so sorry…"
"It's Trig's fault. Don't blame yourself for it. You already replaced it, so I'm already happy." Duke chuckled and patted the poor guy's head. His sweet smile was still on his lips. "If you continue apologizing, I'll feel sad. Do you want that?"
Rowan shook his head, making Duke nod at him with a giggle. The man carefully walked back to the rug and left the bathroom. Rowan just looked down at the loose shirt that was pulled looser because of his insistence. However, a smile curled Rowan's lips.
He then murmured to himself, "My painting… is going to be bought by someone?"