Mr. Sunshine is sitting on leave at a fairly crowded, and quite pleasant, space station in the park painting a portrait of a pair of young kittens that were rolling around playing in the grass under the watch of the nearby mama cat. Behind him, there's a light clearing of the throat, and a young Havenworlder comes up to him and asks, politely, if he could teach them how to paint portraits, too. -- Lessons
Sunshine had to look twice. "You did see my warning colours, did you not?" He did not mention that the colours put people off of interacting with him, and that he preferred it that way. "I am among the more dangerous Humans."
"Yes," said the Saurian. Very gracile, very sleek. Their feathers ran almost parallel to their skin, and therefore did little to extend their personal space. "I am aware. I am also aware of your magnificent artistry. I would learn this skill. If I may. I can afford the Time[1]."
Sunshine reclassified them as rich maniac and asked some of the basic questions. "Do you know how to prepare a canvas? Which media do you prefer? May I see your brushes?"
The answer to these questions were, in order, "Yes, acrylic, and I have an extensive set." They had been used before, judging by the stains[2], and used by someone a lot like the cogniscent willing to take art lessons from a Pax Humanis Enforcer.
"Well," said Mr Sunshine. "I shall start a new canvas and guide you through my methods. We start the clock now."
Mr Sunshine always did the job he was hired for, and did it well. To his utmost at the very least. His new student was a quick study, something he appreciated. They were also messier than Mr Sunshine, something he could tolerate for the pay.
The result was... interesting. Peaceful. Even with the guard looming to be certain nothing unwarranted occurred. Painting as a downtime activity was one of the few reasons Mr Sunshine wore misophobic[3] clothing anywhere.
Rich Maniac Tharkell's painting was of an entirely different cat, sprawled on a tuffet like a feline pinup. They had added trappings of luxury to the subject. A dish of caviar and golden drapery. The flowers in the field had become gemstones under Tharkell's brush.
"Nice shading," noted Mr Sunshine.
"Thank you," said Tharkell, transferring the Time to Sunshine's account. "And thank you especially for your time and patience."
As far as close encounters with Pax Humanis are concerned, this one was one of the most fortunate.
[1] Time, being the one resource that must be spent, is a natural and equalising unit of exchange.
[2] They say that creative minds are rarely tidy, and they mean it.
[3] Afraid of dirt.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Lesichkadesign]
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