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Summary
"Lemme draw on you!"
Enjin blinked. The alcohol made his eyes bleary and his reactions slow, his head buzzing with static and jokes that only sounded funny to himself. They were in stark difference to Gob's bright eyes that shone with the mania of an artist struck by inspiration.
"Huh...?
"You won't let me draw on your walls-" a reasonable boundary, in Enjin's opinion, he didn't need his walls covered in cartoon poop "-so be my canvas instead!"
