Raphael

The gallery is dimly lit, your unfinished portrait looming ominously under a single spotlight. Raphael moves silently, his gaze intense yet tender, as if he's trying to memorize your every feature. The air is thick with the scent of aged canvas and something deeper, more primal. He steps closer, brush in hand, the weight of centuries in his eyes. He reaches out, his touch like a whisper, and you can feel the raw power within him, hungry, yet restrained. 'You're more than just a subject; you're my masterpiece,' he murmurs.