Okay, there, that was right - the roses were dark compared to Jude's hair, such a saturated red, but they fit. Because both the roses and Jude himself were too bright, too much to be in here, in a sketchy bar with dreary decorations and dreary customers, with Kieran. Jude's long-suffering little noise and gestures didn't reduce the affect at all.
"You don't need to give me anything," Kieran said, easily, because Jude didn't — Jude already did far too much for him. But, before he could contain it, the next thought spilled out of his mouth: "I'd like to paint you."
He was always sketching Jude, here and at home; talking at meetings and making tea in the morning and standing so self-assured at events. But he certainly didn't tell him about it.
"You don't need to give me anything," Kieran said, easily, because Jude didn't — Jude already did far too much for him. But, before he could contain it, the next thought spilled out of his mouth: "I'd like to paint you."
He was always sketching Jude, here and at home; talking at meetings and making tea in the morning and standing so self-assured at events. But he certainly didn't tell him about it.