Traffic Light sighs.

With a smooth stroke of her hand, the finely tipped brush paints the canvas, leaving an emerald green trail in its wake. Stroke after stroke, the canvas populates with blades of grass.

She dips her brush into the water glass, already milky blue from decorating the previously blank canvas with a blue sky and wispy clouds. Green paint swirls into the mix, and Traffic Light lifts her brush to dry it off properly before using it again.

The simplistic painting stares her in the face. Plain blue sky, plain white clouds, one-tone green grass, and splotches of blank canvas. She frowns. It's basic. Amateur.

And unfinished.

'Art takes time. Be patient with yourself.'

She dips her brush into a lighter, brighter green, and takes to the canvas again.

A few yards in front of Traffic Light, Trophy picks flowers. It's awfully girly of her, she knows, but she wanted to accompany Traffic Light, and knows her annoyance to people who stare over her shoulder.

And, a bouquet is a nice thing to give. Traffic Light loves pretty things.

She hums her favorite song, too soft for anyone but her to hear. They're not in a crazy flower field with colors from everywhere on the color spectrum, but it's colorful enough. Lots of yellows, some reds, some whites...a few blues, too. And plenty of tall grass. It scratches at her legs and face.

The sun hot on her back, she wipes some sweat off her forehead, shaking it onto the earth below. It's plenty bright today; the grass is nearly golden in the sunlight, and the flowers all reach for the sun. Trophy glances at the bundle of flowers in her hand.

She'd managed to pick out a few purple ones as well. The bundle is beautiful, she'll admit. She also plucked a few of the long grass blades to even out the flower composition.

It's something Traffic Light says. Art needs balance to look good. Too much of one or another thing might feel nice, but overall, art gets ruined if there's excess of one thing.

Trophy knows nothing about art, or composition, or any other art terms Traffic Light references. But, she does know a thing or two about balance. It's the key to being happy and fulfilled. The key to not feeling burnout. The key to satisfaction. It's how she can be focused and fun. It's how Traffic Light can be ambitious and relaxed.

That's how it's been lately. Trophy's learned to pick up small differences in people's behavior. Traffic Light is less harsh on herself. Trophy isn't as strict on her teammates. Of course she still has her suspicions, but it also doesn't help if she's too busy accusing everyone to actually figure the truth out.

That's what balance is.

The green amongst the other colors has a natural feeling to it. Trophy supposes it's because that's how it is in nature, anyway. The flower display is a bit easier on the eyes with the earthy green as a neutral color, and the colors themselves become more meaningful.

Trophy has an idea, and snickers to herself. It's childish, but maybe it'll give Traffic Light a smile.

She raises her arm over her head, and drops the bundle into her cup. A grass blade droops down in front of her vision. There's nothing she can use to see her reflection, so she uses her hands to feel around, making sure the flowers don't fall out.

It seems secure enough.

The flowers bounce and shake in her cup as she pushes the tall grass to the side, walking back towards where she knows Traffic Light is. Some grass is slightly flattened from when she pushed it away before. She can barely see through the tips of the blades.

The rustle is what announces her presence.

"Oh, Trophy! You're back!" Traffic Light smiles, but doesn't look away from her canvas. "You didn't get lost, right?"

"I can see just fine in there! How's your painting?"

"Well enough."

In addition to the various shades of green on the canvas, thin golden highlights mark the sun's touch. A few flowers poke through the front, colored with reds, yellows, whites, and blues. The sky seems to stretch deep into the canvas.

"Can I see?"

"Ah....alright. It's not really done, though."

Confident enough that Traffic Light will notice her crown of flowers eventually, Trophy steps around besides Traffic Light. Her eyes soak up the warmth and natural state of the painting. It's as if she's back in that field, the golden sun on her face and the waving grass brushing her legs and body.

"What's this thing poking me?" Traffic Light mutters.

She looks up at Trophy.

And she stifles a laugh, her hand flying to her mouth. Trophy grins, ear to ear.

"You like it?"

Traffic Light laughs more openly. "Yes! It's very interesting!"

She takes a closer look at Trophy, and her grin softens into a warm smile.

"And beautiful. You look beautiful."

"Al-right," Trophy groans, "don't make me blush."

"Oh, I wish I could paint you right now. That looks perfect!" Traffic Light dejectedly gazes back at her art supplies. "But I only brought one canvas..."

"Well, let's go get another one! And besides, it's way too hot out here, anyway."

"You're okay with being like that for a few more hours?"

"Mhm!" Trophy is already packing some of the art supplies into the bag. "It'll be a nice memory. And you always paint me really well."

Traffic Light smiles again, blushing slightly. "You're a great subject."

"Of course I am," Trophy jokes, and she laughs. She takes the painting from the easel and hands it to Traffic Light. "You wanna hold this? I'll carry everything else."

"Oh, yes, give me a second."

Traffic Light cleans her brushes, then takes the water glass and empties it into the earth. She dries the glass and the brushes, and takes the canvas from Trophy. Trophy, in turn, takes the glass and brushes and puts them in the proper place inside the bag.

"Thank you."

"No problem! Still got a hand free?"

Traffic Light extends her free hand out, and Trophy gladly holds it, smiling at Traffic Light. Together, they walk back down the path to home.