Had he really been that engrossed in his work? How... oddly endearing, really, that he had been sucked so tightly into creativity's kind embrace. Was this what Jericho did when he had his time off? Shadow had to admit, to see someone so artistic instead of spending their time on ridiculous activities made him feel warm inside. That really was a way to unleash one's mind into an image of something beautiful.

He slowly approached, his steps soft, metal practically inaudible against the ground. He was exhausted, really, but he'd be fine. He just needed time to rest, and maybe a boy's skills to make him want to smile. (Want, of course, was different from actually doing so. Ha.)

"It couldn't be that bad," he awkwardly spoke, trying to seem reassuring, yet sounding far too shaky to do so. He was still a foot away from him, not too close, but not far at all.