“The artist sees what others only catch a glimpse of.” 

 He mused freely as he heard shuffling behind him. A hand cupping his chin as his hues never left his freshly painted canvas. Captivated by his creation. Sander was known to speak out loud regardless of being in someone’s company. Soon turning to face his unexpected guest.

“Might I ask your opinion on this piece?”

((just had to lol))

A small child, no older than four, with a head full of unruly chestnut curls, toddles toward Pluto. His arms outstretch toward the mansion ceiling. His mouth hangs agape with a small dreamy smile. Just as he arrives near them, he shrieks with giggly abandon and smacks together his little palms.

It's time, you see, to play "catch the wispy white things that call for me."

"Gotcha! Gotcha GOTCHA!" the boy shrills, and laughs, pointing, at the ghost, whose vaporous form hangs just over Pluto's. The specter tries to continue looking disoriented and panicked, but when a tiny creature that effuses such a...strange vivacity....is so delighted by your company, it's hard to argue.

"Mkay."

*pulls hood down*

"WHAAAAAT! That is rad, lady! Fist bump!"