Tomorrow
"What if I didn't like painting?" Mokuba asked from behind the easel. Then, at length, "I do, but what if I didn't?"
"Whatever do you mean?" Pegasus asked, in that way of his that never really let on if he was intrigued or just humoring someone.
"Just – how would you feel about it?"
Pegasus laughed, "Little frog, are you asking if I would be angry? About that? Painting isn't for everyone."
"That isn't a no."
Or the offer of an alternative. Even when he wasn't trying to be threatening, the unspoken powerplay was there. You'd go back to books, I suppose. Or, oragami is always an option. It all spoke to the same thing: this is what you have. Be grateful.
Mokuba thought he was done working within those parameters when Gozaburo offed himself. And flinched at the thought like Pegasus could still read it.
"it is a no." He said instead. "Painting wasn't always my passion either, not until I found my muse."
Mokuba's face scrunched as if he couldn't decide between laughing and wrinkling his nose. "I thought that was something artists made up to sound deeper."
"No, they're very much real." Pegasus said with a chuckle. "Just look at your brother's dragons."
A silence settled over them, punctuated by a glob of green paint – he always did take too much – falling onto Mokuba's smock.
"They were never really his."
"Now, Mokuba," Pegasus said, trying to keep his tone light, "I'm not here for you to tell me what you think I want to hear. Of course they're his, even like this, they're more his than mine. He breathed life into them. Made them his own. It's an artist's dream."
Even like this was a punch to the gut. Seto didn't have them now, would probably never get them back. He wished the poorly drawn version in the locket had been a better rendering. An awful thought struck, stealing his breath and leaving him emptier than this room ever had.
Did Niisama have his locket?
If he asked, Pegasus would probably take it. He would definitely take it. Call it a distraction or a wrench in their progress. Why had he brought up Niisama? He usually didn't unless they weren't talking enough for his liking. Was it to change the subject?
"Will you tell me about it?" Mokuba asked, testing the waters. "Finding your muse?"
Pegasus rubbed the palms of his hands against his pants. "One day. But for now, our time is up."
The look on Pegasus's face wasn't quite sad and wasn't quite hopeful. Maybe it was nostalgia.
Outside of meaning he was onto something, Mokuba didn't let himself linger on it.
Their time would start again tomorrow.