Last chapter you guys! Thank you, to all of my reviewers... you've made me happy. Especially Mii, you always gave awesome, in-depth comments to every chapter. I really looked forward to reading what you had to think about the chapter. That goes to the rest of you, as well. I thought I was done writing but since this had a good reception I think I'm going to do at least one more story... it's going to be written as a musical. Like, in song. Hopefully I can pull it off. XD

Miss Amber Sweet curls up on the sofa in the sitting room, a sketchbook propped up against her knees. Several pages have been ripped out, and lay scattered on the couch and carpet. She's got a box of colored pencils on the sofa beside her, but most of the pencils have fallen out, rolling between the cushions where they'll probably not be found. Amber's hair is black today, that artificial shade of black that appears blue under direct light. It falls into her eyes and she brushes it behind her ear.

On television, a pride of lionesses is stalking a wounded wildebeest. They've already separated it from the protection of it's herd, and they're just now going in for the kill. Amber doesn't really notice any of this. She's just doing gesture sketches, thirty second doodles that barely capture the frame and movement. Little snapshots of nature.

She's so involved in her drawings that she doesn't hear Luigi sneaking up behind her.

"Hey!" he yells when he's right behind her head, making her jump. The pencil flies out of her hand and rolls across the floor.

"Dammit, Luigi!" Amber yells, but he just laughs. While she's digging around under the coffee table for her pencil, Luigi jumps over the back of the couch and lands on her box of colored pencils. Amber can hear of them snap under his weight.

"Oops, sorry," he says, with a big shit-eating grin that doesn't make him look sorry at all. He spots the remote control sticking out between the cushions and makes a grab for it, but Amber's too quick. "Ha!" she barks, holding the remote above her head, as if he can't reach it.

"Why are you watching this boring shit anyways?" Luigi says. He snatches the remote out of Amber's hand but before he changes the channel, she tackles him hard enough to knock the remote from his hand. It hits the edge of the table and the batteries tumble out. Amber reaches for it but Luigi pins her down on the couch, laughing.

"I was trying to sketch lions," Amber whines, struggling beneath him. Craning her neck to see around his arm, she spots her sketchbook on the floor, it's pages bent double under it. "Hey! You fucked up my drawings!"

"You don't need 'em. You can do better ones," Luigi says. Amber shoves him with all her strength and wiggles away of him, but they end up wrestling. They roll off the couch and Amber hits her shoulder on the coffee table, which only makes her fight harder.

They roll around the floor for a solid five minutes, scattering art supplies in their wake. After awhile, wrestling somehow turns into embracing. Luigi's lying on his back, propped up on his elbows, with Amber stretched across his chest. He spots her mangled sketchbook on the floor and picks up up, unsuccessfully trying to smooth out the wrinkled pages. "These are pretty good," he says, flipping through the sketchbook.

"I like this picture of a cow." Luigi jabs his finger at one of the pages. Amber snatches the book out of his hands and peers at the drawing. She frowns.

"That's not a cow, it's a sable antelope."

"What the fuck ever," Luigi growls, and kisses her to make her shut up.

"Da-" squeaks a little voice. Luigi looks up and sees a little face poking out from behind the sofa. It's a little boy with wild, dark hair and a constellation of freckles over the bridge of his nose.

"Stupid kid, I'm not your dad. Pavi is your dad. Now piss off."

"Da!" the boy repeats himself, as if maybe Luigi hadn't heard him correctly. He wobbles over to them, so unsteadily that Amber wonders how he even got all the way here. Somehow, he always does. Whenever little Silvio is allowed out of the sight of his babysitters or parents, he unfailingly tracks down his uncle Luigi. "Da, da, da," Silvio babbles.

"Fine, c'mere," Luigi grumbles. Amber rolls off so Luigi can sit up and hoist the toddler into his lap. "You're more annoying than your dad, you know that?" Sivio laughs as if this is the funniest joke he's ever heard.

"Hey Silvee, do you wanna draw?" Amber says, wiggling a pencil between her thumb and forefinger. The boy follows the pencil back and fourth with eyes as big as saucers. "Wanna draw a picture?"

"No. Da." he says, which could mean anything, since those are his favorite two words and the only ones he uses frequently. He crawls out of Luigi's lap and reaches for the pencil in Amber's hand. She picks up Silvio and plops him on the couch with the sketchbook on his lap. She gives him the pencil and he immediately starts scribbling with the eraser. "Da, da, da," he sings. Amber takes the pencil, flips it so the point is touching the paper, and gives it back to Silvee.

"No," he says, which probably means thank you, and goes back to scribbling. Amber smiles, watching the look of dark concentration that settles over Silvio's features. It's the same expression worn by every artist, no matter how young or unskilled, during the process of creation.

Luigi hugs her from behind, pulls her down onto the carpet, and Amber thinks she has never been happier.