"She was beautiful," Rhiannon said.
"Not as beautiful as you," Joe said factually.
"I could do that," she said, pointing at the drawing. She indicated the oil. "But I couldn't do that."
"Color ups the ante," Joe said.
"Awesome," she said, still looking at the oil.
"Takes time," Joe said. "There's about fifty years practice between the two."
"And then gone, all that experience gone," Rhiannon said.
"Gotta do it while we can," Joe said. "God, what a good dinner. I hate to see you go, Rhiannon."
"Don't you get lonely?" she asked. An appealing smile spread across her face. Joe imagined her clothes dropping away, saw her naked, her clean tight skin, touches of private color at her breasts, the subtle curve where she would swell with pregnancy. He shook his head, more to clear it than to say no.
"Batman," he said. "Batman keeps me company. Although I do worry about him sometimes. He's younger than I am."