Alistair waited a bit longer and breathed out a sigh of relief when Bellamy Echelon announced that he was done. He wasn't quite sure that he did want to see but curiosity propelled him to go over and see what work the man had done.

"You're a very talented artist," Alistair murmured, not quite able to believe that was him on the canvas. And yet, at the same time he recognized himself. "So this is what I look like to you." It felt odd to have a painting of himself staring back at him. How did people manage to have whole portraits of themselves plastered all over their homes?