Aut cum scuto aut in scuto.

He gives a soft, self-deprecating laugh and nods. "Sure, but subtlety takes more time to paint."

He tucks his pen back in its case and hands her the sketchbook. "Are you an artist? You sound like you know what you're talking about. I mean..."

Did that come out wrong? He's not sure. "I mean about, um, color theory."

Not that he doubts she knows what she's talking about with other subjects to, but--he decides to quit talking before he self-implodes.