Bell had been focusing on his canvas while Darrow was quiet, so when he spoke again it seemed like quite the interruption to Bellamy. He glanced over at him somewhat quizzically, but only for a moment before he returned his attention to the canvas. He was rounding out the edge of Alistair Darrow's left eye, the edge that the light reflected off of, and he wanted to get the shape of it down while he still had it fresh in his mind.
"The sun's mostly for your hair," he commented in an offhand way. It was the curls that caught the light in a way that couldn't be replicated in a cloudy moment. The shade of his skin and the subtle shadows on his features weren't changed in a material enough way that he couldn't keep going with his sketch, unless the sun moved dramatically. He didn't expect that would happen, though. The portrait was already starting to have the right sort of look, though it need a hundred little details before Bellamy could ever consider calling it finished.
"Do you have somewhere you need to be?" he asked. It was clear that Darrow wanted to hurry him along, but utterly unclear to Bellamy why that should be the case. It wasn't as though posing for a portrait was hard labor, or anything.
"The sun's mostly for your hair," he commented in an offhand way. It was the curls that caught the light in a way that couldn't be replicated in a cloudy moment. The shade of his skin and the subtle shadows on his features weren't changed in a material enough way that he couldn't keep going with his sketch, unless the sun moved dramatically. He didn't expect that would happen, though. The portrait was already starting to have the right sort of look, though it need a hundred little details before Bellamy could ever consider calling it finished.
"Do you have somewhere you need to be?" he asked. It was clear that Darrow wanted to hurry him along, but utterly unclear to Bellamy why that should be the case. It wasn't as though posing for a portrait was hard labor, or anything.
