Wu Ling turned his attention to the thickly muscled young man who'd spoken, wondering why he sensed a trace of anticipation and hostility from the fellow. Did he have some kind of grudge against Artists? "I am," Wu Ling answered casually, relaxing into the seat and adopting a posture of indifference he'd observed from many privileged young men over the years. It felt distinctly uncomfortable after the many years he'd spent training the posture and comportment befitting a young lady in polite society but he forced himself to do so nonetheless.
"Why? Are you interested in commissioning a painting yourself? I don't paint men very often, but if there's some fellow you have your eyes set on, I'm sure I can highlight your best attributes to the man of your dreams as I did for Sister Su Yao," he said with an evil grin.
