Mayflower blinked, gingerly holding the notebook as she had before so as not to rip the delicate paper pages with her clumbsy fingers. For a moment, the canine pondered what she would put down in response to his statement and question, though it wasn't before long that the short individual began to write, I'm afraid that I don't share the same artistic abilities with my brother. Mayflower paused for a moment, fiddling with the writing utensil for a few seconds before continuing on, I don't believe I have that many art skills at the moment, haven't took the time to figure out what I'm good at. Mayflower sighed, handing the notepad back to Edgar before downing the rest of the lemonade he'd given her, awfully thirsty at the time since she'd been traveling for forever, as it seemed.
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