Georgie's flat, evening.
“This one is my latest project,” she explained, “it’s the view out the windows of the studio room I work in at the institute. It’s up on Queen Daphne Hill, so it gets the most splendid views. It’s really lovely when it’s sunny. I haven’t been able to work on it the last few days, unfortunately. It’s been cloudy, and the light just isn’t right. I sort of stuck myself in a very small corner, choosing to paint at sunset, I think. It’s such a small frame of time to work in. But I love the colours.”
She stared at it for a bit, her expression thoughtful. She was rather fond of how it was coming along. She had changed or added a few things over the last few days, but was eager for the weather to turn so that she could finish more of it. She took another drink of wine, and then a realization dawned on her.
“It’s chilly in here,” she said, “I’m sorry, I’ll get the fire going.”
She set her glass aside, making her way over to the woodstove, kneeling down and setting about lighting it. It was still something that was quite new to her, but Bess had shown her the best way to do it before she’d left home. Paper, smaller bits of wood, and then her firewood. As an artist, she had plenty of spare paper laying around. Aborted scribbles and terrible first drafts made wonderful kindling.
“Feel free to make yourself comfortable,” she said as she struck a match, “If you like, I can show you my sketchbook. I’ll warn you in advance, though, there are nude model studies.”
She got the fire lit and shut the grate, dusting off her hands and getting to her feet again. “I’ve had a few people ask to flip through it and then get very flustered, so I tend to lead with that now.”