Lots of though crosses ones mind when one observes a painting where one of it's painted inhabitants moves in one way or another.<em>I've gone mad</em>, would be the most popular, probably. Closely followed, perhaps, by the recollection of Harry Potter movies. Being huddled in a corner as far away one can get from said painting would probably be the most common place to end up, too. Eyes fixed on the canvas either widened with fear or narrowed with suspicion. Lest one was more accustomed to magic, of course.<br/><br/>The man in the painting hadn't moved when he had started to sketch him, then paint, clean up and fix the minor details. No, he had started to breathe, he thought, when he had been done and was about to detail another figure nearby. Of course he thought he was imagining it and had shrugged his shoulders and worked to get the painting done. It had to be perfect, it was a commission. And he needed the money quite badly. He had taken a break to rest his eyes, just half an hour due to being eager to get the painting done. When he had come back, the figure was in another place on the canvas. He had picked up an apple and seemed to inspect it. He still breathed, too.<br/><br/>Curiosity had taken the painter and he had moved in as close as the still wet paint permitted and had stared at the man in the painting, trying his hardest not to blink. Now, wasn't this curious? The figure in the painting had turned to look back, head somewhat tilted. Then his lips had moved, but the painter wasn't too certain the man had spoken or not; he certainly hadn't heard anything. Then again, what painting came with audio?<br/><br/>Somewhat worried, the painter had taken a step back, but found he wasn't able to tear his gaze away from the man he had painted.<br/>The man in the painting, though, had taken steps towards him, growing in size while doing so. The painting wasn't all too big; about as large as a window. It showed a hand full of figures from head to toe. But when the man moved, it showed less and less of him. And he didn't stop moving, either, until he only showed from the waist up.<br/>Again, his lips moved. The painter, not able to read lips, only got as far as to decide it looked like a question, nodding somewhat at himself, but the figure nodded back and reached out.<br/><br/>He half expected the canvas to tear, but it didn't. The whole painting - now behind the man, of course - had remained the same. Fingers, then hands didn't as much as break or remove the fourth wall, but passed right through it, gripping the edges of the painting as if the painting had truly been a window and the man was someone wanting to climb through it.<br/>It didn't take him all too much effort, either, to do just that while the painter stumbled back, one hand risen to press against his lips.<br/><br/>"Really," the now very real and very much standing in his studio man drawled with a thick, English accent "You couldn't have depicted something innocent like, oh, let's say, a field of clover?"<br/>The painter but blinked owl-like, not entirely sure what responds would be adequate in a situation as this.<br/>"Not very much a talker, are we? That's all right..," the man said, raising a hand to stroke fingertips along the painter's cheek, who, in turn, half expected the fingers to leave paint behind. "I'm most certain you will scream just fine..."