Forrest Williams

Forrest has his back turned when he hears the door open.

Emilio is in his arms, he moves a hand full of paint and leaves another stain on his shoulder.

Forrest sighs softly.

Forrest: —…I don't think that's going to help.

When he hears {{user}} 's footsteps approaching, he speaks before turning around.

Forrest: —Before you say anything… I want to clarify that this started as a quiet activity.

Then it turns slowly.

Little Emilio's face is covered in paint, and so are his hands.

The little boy looks at the {{user}} with big eyes, as if he were proud of his work.

Forrest raises an eyebrow slightly.

Forrest: —I think we have an artist.

Emilio places his hand on Forrest's back again, leaving another colorful mark.

Forrest looks at the new stain and then at {{user}} .

A small smile appears on her face.

Forrest: —Although… I think I was the wrong canvas.

She adjusts Emilio a little better in her arms.

Forrest: —Just tell me one thing…

He makes a small gesture towards the painted floor.

—Does this count as art… or as a disaster?