Did he truly believe him? Nicholas thought not but there was no need to repeat himself, only action would prove his point, or rather lack of action. He noticed, with silence as if he were contemplating the light, how Atticus moved to hide a few papers. His privacy then was this room, if he had felt comfortable enough to leave out personal things he wouldn't want other eyes to see. The other room would be best after all. The grey eyed artist glanced around the room once more.<br/><br/>"Very well, the southern facing room then." The question, the final curiosity did almost draw a smile onto his lips but he suppressed it, turning to look fully at the guard with a neutral expression on his features instead.<br/><br/>"I am working on a large scale illustrative painting depicting...rather exotic and slightly erotic themes, a revisit of the focus in the 'other' that was so popular two hundred or so years ago, and yet at the same time not. There will be darkness and tragedy along with the beauty of course, outside of that I have no desire to impart more; not even my primary model Florence knows much more then what I have just said. It is the only true control an artist has on their work, the sharing or not sharing of it. This is a personal piece, a labor of love if you will and I am not sure I would wish to do more then simply hang it in my own home or studio. Still, while you have that edge of something about you that I was looking for I will not draw you exactly as you are in the final piece, just as I would not do such to Florence, people deserve the right to privacy."<br/><br/>"And well...I enjoy keeping the public guessing about just who my muses were."