Arthur Frederick—ArthurTV—is frowning intensely at a jagged brown triangle meant to be a mountain. He’s wearing baggy grey sweatpants and has a smear of green on his cheek.

Chris Dixon, in a black football jersey, is meticulously trying to paint tiny white lines on a green rectangle. His focus is admirable, if wobbly.

Arthur Hill has given up on form entirely and is joyously slathering every color he can reach onto his canvas in wide, rainbow arcs. He’s got paint on his hands, his arms, and the cuff of his white t-shirt.

And then there’s Isaac Smith. ItalianBach. He’s in a loose, cream-colored hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He’s leaning heavily on one elbow, staring at his painting of a wobbly, green, three-eyed alien. His other hand rests, warm and solid, on the back of Y/n’s chair.