Meet Angus.

Angus: bearded hipster of his own mind. Bar tender. Artist. Man about town.

Currently, he is in class and working behind an easel with his pastels and chalks in hand. Normally he prefers his oils for the textures they can bring out. Tonight he has accepted a challenge and tried a different medium.

There is another artist in the group tonight. A lean, ethereal, woman with pale skin and long red hair. Angus has strong suspicions that the red hair is a wig - and for reasons he cannot fathom, he feels that he needs to know why. This new artist keeps herself apart: mysterious, yet almost comical with her tongue peeking out from her mouth as she works her paint brushes. Her attire, too, seems to gnaw at him: jean skirt; boots (with different lengths and colours of lace); stripped stockings (one of which is determinedly inching down her leg in an ever thickening pile) and a fluffy jumper that is way, way over sized. And a glove. Why the glove? Its not even on her leading hand - its almost permanently stuck to her hip, posed like model.

Model...

Somewhere in Angus' fevered brain, an idea is struck.

Later, after class, Angus approached the woman.

Which is probably what Ingrid had been banking on all evening...