Anxious

Jason smirked, lowering his painting and resting it gently on top of his feet. Well, Jee thanks, Lotte. "Hey, in my defense, I'm pretty damn good at painting stick figures and cotton-ball trees." And don't even get me started on his elegant yellow sun.
With a small grin, he waited for her to do her little drumroll and show her painting to her ghostly friend. The Autumn clapped and whistled, as if we're a big show, before gently setting his painting aside and getting up to grab a few paints and brushes for his own work. And perhaps another easel too. "That one's going on the fridge!" He told her teasingly.

"That one is your competition." Lotte corrected, walking over to help Jace. As she walked she exaggerated each step, each footfall downwards feeling slow as the upwards portion of the walk felt standard speed. Her hands were together across her butt, her fingers entwined in an odd pattern that was obviously subconscious. When she arrived, she kept her hands where they were, observing the easel with careful eyes and then the painting. The easel, the painting, the easel, the painting. "I'd start with the oranges. They are more predominate." she stated, a tone similar to that of a snobby, famous artist.

let it goo, tree, let it goooooooo.

The young man couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, looking at her curiously but saying nothing as he carried the easel over and set it down next to hers, the few paints in his other hand falling gently unto the ground next to it. Luckily, someone had left their pallet tray on the easel already so he wouldn't have to make more than one trip. Putting his picture up, he had no issue stealing Lotte's brush and cleaning it off on his shirt - it was an old one anyways. "Uh... Orange?" Jace sounded rather uncertain, glancing up at the picture. The brown horses. The red barn. The yellow hay. And the orange sun illuminating it all. "... Right. And since when have you been the artistic expert?"

"If you make it orange, it will be like the color of Autumn. You can use that as an excuse for symbolism or something." said Lotte. The girl was a pro at simple hacks like these: getting more points for the same amount of work. "I know this because I am a decent Autumn, violin boy."
The girl sat on a high stool, one that made her taller than the height Jace was sitting at as she sat on it. This pleased her, making her feel like a real teacher, despite being a novice at the idea of paint-based art. Oh well, at least she wasn't the worst one here.
"Ethel, do you have any input?"
"He is beyond my help, madam." came the comment from behind her. Lotte giggled in agreement.
"Mine as well."

He turned around to look at her, a feigned look of annoyance on his face. Jasin supposed the appropiate response would've been offended, or something along the lines of "I've been in this house a hell of a lot longer than you, you know?" But to be perfectly honest, he really just didn't give a fuck, holding back a small laugh instead. (And that attitude was probably more Autumn than anything.) "The Queen of Life Hacks." Jace mused aloud, painting the walls in the corner. He didn't expect it to be a masterpiece, just passable.
Pausing to mix his paints, he wanted to sigh. How hard could it be to make decent orange color? "Does this look right to you?" The blond asked, holding it up on the brush for her to see before a stupid idea sparked. Unable to hide his smile, he darted the brush forward and dashed an orange splotch onto her cheek.

Lotte shut her eyes instinctively as the paint splotched against her cheek. "Eugh." was her initial comment, taking a tissue from a box nearby and wiping her face. How dare he lash out, and against his teacher! Lotte walked over to the painting he had started, pretending to examine it. "Yeah, I'd start over here with some brown." she stated, reaching downwards to the brown can. Upon grasping it, she plopped a paint brush in and, seeing that it had a satisfactory glob of paint on the end, flung it at Jace's face.

"Okay, okay. Sorry." He laughed, apologizing quickly in hopes to rebuke her annoyance. The blond supposed that he should've known better than that, though. He'd seriously turned his attention back to the painting when he'd felt a cold splatter hit his face in hair. A bit surprised, he stared at Lotte for a moment.
Oh, Hell no.
He didn't even bother with the brush, dipping his hand in a can of red paint and swiping at her. If his hand didn't reach her, the paint still sure-as-hell would've.