[ With each word, Christian appears to grow sadder and sadder. As if some epic tragedy were unfolding before him. For an artist to say something like that, it was absolute heartbreaking. Christian may not know who Gros was by name, but to study in such a way. To be personally tutored. He must have had great skill. To speak so poorly of his own art...

Not being able to help himself, Christian grabbed Grantire's hand between both of his. ]

If only I could wake Toulouse myself. He would be able to tell you better than I could, but no matter your skill, all it takes to be an artist is what's in your heart!

[ He let go with one hand, to press it to his own chest. ]

Regardless of that, I doubt this Gros would have taken you as a student if you didn't have the skill. To get even that far, to put brush to canvas, it takes a certain passion not many possess. To think poorly of what you've done...it breaks my heart.

[ He could feel something budding at the back of his mind. Lyrics. Music. Something heart-wrenching and tragic. ]