<em>Ingrid, Cindy Lou Who. You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.</em><br/><br/>"Really?" she asked, touched that he'd do that for her.  "You didn't have to, I mean, it wasn't your place… but thank you. Truly. Thank you."  She could have reprinted them but there was something about the ones that she had that she loved, and finding the exact pictures again would have taken a long time.  Her eyes widened at his words of too much talent.  But he'd said… things out of anger and spite in order to get to her so that she'd leave him alone.  Damn.<br/><br/>There was much more to it than Daniel leaving but she didn't feel quite like sharing.  She was on Morgan's futon, not Dr. Phil's couch.  "I wish it had too," she admitted.  "I was just pissed and dealing with shit." She'd just gotten back from seeing her parents for the first time in almost fifteen years.  She knew that she should have changed her name when she started getting attention for her works.<br/><br/>"I'm sorry that I used you as a kicking post, Morgan.  You do make it rather easy sometimes, though.  Like by showing up to things without wearing pants…" She giggled. "Though you do have some hella nice legs."  Ow. It hurt to laugh.  She cradled her head in her hands and whimpered.  "Do you have any Tylenol? Please? I'm begging."  She knew that he'd offered but somehow she'd forgotten to answer his question.<br/><br/>Lifting up and stretching her neck, which was stiff and saw a canvas.  She couldn't make out the texture but she could see the red calligraphy and the tattoos, painted rope.  There was no human figure but the ropes left little to the imagination.  "Did you paint that?" she asked softly.<br/>