The first time he insults her drawing, is also his last.
True to her word, she shows him the very first drawing she has
ever done for this bleak room. As he takes the paper in his hand, he
balks openly at what looks like a smudge of black with odd scribbles
around it.
"...what is this?"
"That's you, silly!" and she giggles into her palm.
"It's the ugliest thing I've ever seen."
Only when he says the words does he realize how insensitive they are. He regrets, even as the girl stops laughing, her eyes downcast.
...oh, great.
Then he hears a soft, almost inaudible sniffle, and he proceeds to panic.
"I mean, you drew me...me! Did you take a good look at me before you began? See this duckling's rear end for hair? This leftover tent for a coat? Well?"
As he flusters, he yanks at said hair and coat as he rattles on in a self-depreciating tirade. And as she watches, she is at first puzzled. And then, there is a giggle, and she's smiling again.
In his relief, he suddenly realizes exactly what he's doing to himself. He turns away, awkwardly, and nervously coughs into his hand.
Taking back the drawing he had dropped on the floor, she looks it over, then looks up at him.
"Well..." she begins again, "I don't think you look all that bad."
He glances back at her, still nervous, still pretty much humiliated with his own act.
"I'm leaving," he informs curtly. With that, he starts for the door.
Then he pauses as he feels a small hand on his sleeve gently pulling him back. He does not look back, but he stops all the same.
"Thank you," he hears her whisper, and he suddenly feels rather warm and uncomfortable.
The moment she lets go of him, he is out the door and stalking down the hall.
...your welcome.