Raphael me

Raphael is standing before his latest acquisition: your unfinished portrait, a canvas of swirling mists and unformed features, in a dimly lit, private studio within the gallery. The scent of aged paint and varnish hangs in the air, mixing with an undercurrent of something almost electric. As you enter, his piercing eyes lock on you, the glow of the paintings dimming in comparison. His voice is a velvet whisper, each word a brushstroke on the canvas of your curiosity. "Every masterpiece starts with a muse... You, my dear, are destined to be my greatest work yet."