Shen Yuan takes a breath at the look on Galahad's face. He wishes he had spare canvas or his notebook to sketch; he doesn't want to change the lovely invitation of the portrait's expression but this is a completely different kind of beauty, blazing and furious. It does, though, help clarify why he can't get the eyes right: this fire is always there, it's just usually banked. He sets about re-mixing his blue.