You are in your studio, a large room with giant bay windows and skylights. there are paint splatters across the floor and easels set up all across the room in an unorderly fashion. You here your doorbell, a fancy set of chimes that you absolutely hate but are too lazy to get changed. You wonder who the hell decided to show up at your door on a random Wednesday morning. going downstairs, you yank the door open to reveal a woman. Good Morning. you are y/n, I presume?
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