Rogue took a deep breath before sliding her fingers along that pretty wrapping paper, finding the edge to gently start tearing the paper. It became obvious pretty quickly in the process that there was a canvas under that paper, but she couldn't begin to guess what Steve might have painted on it. He'd worked in his studio a bit more than usual lately, but she'd just assumed that he'd been hit with inspiration and hadn't bothered him. The studio was his space, and she rarely went in there without his invitation - not because she didn't feel welcome to do so, but because she wanted him to have that space. She did spend an awful lot of time in his apartment when she didn't actually live there.
When the canvas was finally free from the paper, she carefully turned it around and felt her breath catch in her throat. The figures he'd painted, the colors he'd used. They were exact depictions of her loved ones, but they were the best he could do without having actually seen those people himself, and they were perfect. Jubilee's coat was just the right color, Logan's claws and sideburns, Charles and Erik in their usual uniforms, and Remy...
She could barely see the painting by the time she finished giving it a good once-over, and the tears spilled over her cheeks before she could stop them. "Steve, I--" She tried and failed to thank him, the words stretched thin and cracked in the middle. Her hands shook slightly as she so very carefully set the canvas against the table, and then she practically threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she did indeed start crying her eyes out. He knew her so well.
no subject
When the canvas was finally free from the paper, she carefully turned it around and felt her breath catch in her throat. The figures he'd painted, the colors he'd used. They were exact depictions of her loved ones, but they were the best he could do without having actually seen those people himself, and they were perfect. Jubilee's coat was just the right color, Logan's claws and sideburns, Charles and Erik in their usual uniforms, and Remy...
She could barely see the painting by the time she finished giving it a good once-over, and the tears spilled over her cheeks before she could stop them. "Steve, I--" She tried and failed to thank him, the words stretched thin and cracked in the middle. Her hands shook slightly as she so very carefully set the canvas against the table, and then she practically threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she did indeed start crying her eyes out. He knew her so well.