He stared at her, at her stillness, the way her thoughts brightened like a rainbow while the rest of her shut down. It was fascinating, enlightening, amazing and impressive. He wanted to do nothing but look at her. He wanted to swallow her whole. He wanted to bury himself into her and merge himself with her. Not to plunder, no, not any more, but to join with her, to dance along her rainbow of colours and see the world using her mind.
Instead, he used the charcoal first, outlining what part of her he wished to paint. He was very quick to capture her, though didn't need to be. With a few strokes here and there he had the important bits. At first he used his fingers to spread the paint upon the canvas, his nails etched a path in the paint that was dolloped generously on the canvas. He moved onto brushes, and ended up with paint on himself and in his hair and around his mouth as he held brushes in his paint-covered hands, in between his teeth, transferring paint into his hair in order to get it out of his eyes, slicking it back with blues and yellows and reds, wiping hands and brushes on his clothes. It took him five minutes to get all the paint he needed on the canvas, but half an hour to complete it, editing and finishing as he wished. Once he was done he left it behind in order to walk over to her, hungry to consume all that she'd stirred in him.