Intrigue

He stood next to her, not saying a word, just watching.
Watching with some mix of disgust and awe.
What are you doing, he asked her, the disgust coming out in his voice.
She looked up from her cushion of grass. She smiled happily.
I'm painting the end of the rainbow, she said, her voice cheery but soft, like down. As always. Turning away from his incredulous glare, she soaked her brush-tip in more paint and delicately dabbed at the rose bush in front of her.
Why.
The question surprised her.
Why else, she threw back.
He waited. She still painted.
You didn't answer my question, he glared.
You didn't try to answer it on your own, she painted.
He fell silent for the longest time. Finally,
Are you almost finished?
No, of course not, Silly, she tossed her head back with a bell-laugh.
I still have yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet to go.
I will never understand you, he said spitefully.
I never asked you to, she finished painting a rose copper.
He paused for a while.
Really?
Yes, really, swirling orange-golden paint together.
...Oh.
But out of curiosity, are you going to try to?
Waiting for an answer, she started the next bush in silence.
He didn't say a word, but she got her answer anyway.
He paused
and sat down next to her.