Iris crashes into him, and Wilhelm steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. The proximity shoves into him that same prickling awareness of his own body — god, he just hopes he doesn't smell like an armpit. His hand lingers there until Iris pulls away, suffocating the sketchbook against his chest and babbling at a rate that's impressive even for him.

From all of this, Wilhelm concludes that the source of Iris' embarrassment must be that he isn't as confident in drawing people as he is other subjects. Sharing your art can be a sensitive thing. In answer to the look Kyle shoots him, he puts his hands up in mock surrender. Okay, he'll leave him alone.

"And he's been training me since two years ago," he chimes in, raking a hand through his sweat-damp hair.