It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Scanlan Shorthalt, a gnome bard . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously,  Upon returning to the city of Whitestone, they found the rebellion was successful. The undead hordes have fallen to the blades of the surviving rallied warriors of Whitestone.
DM: Okay. After asking around for a few days, you manage to discover there is a budding local artist who doesn't really believe in his artwork. He currently works in the stables on the far southwest side of town. But people have seen some of his work and tried to bolster him, so you're sent in his direction and as you get there, you can see him. He's currently in the process of actually cutting through one of his recent works he wasn't happy with and he's violently tearing through it. As you step into the stable, he stops and puts it off to the side. "Sorry, sir, can I help you?"
Player: Ah, hello. My name is Scanlan Shorthalt. I was the leader of the rebellion that just defeated Lord and Lady Briarwood.
DM: "Oh! The pleasure is mine." He is now averting his gaze and almost bowing his head like you're royalty. He's very flustered and flushed by the sudden appearance.
Player: I hear you are a budding artist and I am, if nothing else, a supporter of the arts.
DM: "My talents are far unrefined and nowhere near powerful or decent enough for your attentions."
Player: Well, I believe in you. And I need you for a very important commission. A great good has been done here by the rebels, by the townspeople, with the help of Vox Machina and of course, with the help of Vox Machina's leader, myself. Therefore, I'm here to commission a humble portrait of myself. You may not know him, but there was a folk hero in my town growing up. His name was Fabio. He would frequently pose with windblown hair and an open shirt on a horse. I was thinking something like that, and also I have this figure of Pike. She's a friend of mine. I'd like her on the back of the horse, arms around my waist, looking super hot. If that's possible.
DM: Make a persuasion check. Only because he's so down on his own skills.
Player: 33.
DM: As you're telling this tale, he goes from bashful and meek to staring off in the distance, the artistic inspiration rolling through his head.
Player: Oh. Sorry, 31. I was wrong.
DM: Unchanged. He begins finishing your sentences as you're describing scenery and extrapolating on it. You can see the artistic mind is definitely spinning. He looks to you and goes, "It would be my honor. Please." He reaches forward and takes your gnomish hand and you know, you're about two and a half feet shorter than him, but he's still very humble, kneels down and says, "I would be honored to do this portrait. No charge."
Player: Please, I insist. I must give you something for your troubles.
DM: "Whatever you deem fit, Sir Gnome, but I--"
Player: What's your name, young sir?
DM: "Jameson."
