Angie believes the student has become the master.

You'd spent most of the time until your next meeting with Angie trying to workshop what you ought to ask her to teach you. Instead of a blank check that'd let you ask her whatever you wanted to learn, it felt like a Jeopardy question with only one right answer that would need to be phrased exactly right. You'd racked your brain and enlisted the help of any casual acquaintance you could, but all that had taught you was your request was too verbose: predictably, each person you'd asked had fallen asleep and woke up with only a loose understanding of what you'd asked about.

Still, you want to be a good student and make the most of your opportunity. When you open the door to the art room, you see Ange sitting at a desk, almost just as you left her the previous day except that she looks wide awake. Before she can speak, nervously, you open your mouth and begin spitting out the concise five-sentence request, the one you got down to just thirty seconds of speaking by practicing in front of the mirror-

"Hold a moment, Tommy Gangimari!" Angie interrupts you, shaking her head as if listening to you for just a second is already putting her to sleep. "You're requesting something of me?" She puts her hands to the side of her face, her eyebrows tilted in confusion. "But I thought you were going to teach me!"

... Huh? Have you misunderstood the assignment?

"Yes, there's been some big misunderstanding! Atua has told me so, and Atua cannot be mistaken! I was a little bit sleepy yesterday afternoon, but Atua filled me in on the details of our meeting. Yes, He says that I agreed to become your disciple! And so!" The young woman claps her hands in what would ordinarily look like a gesture of prayer, but seems to, in this case, be begging. She wears a friendly wink, one that still somehow seems ominous. "Tommy, please share what knowledge you possess that could make you fit to advise Atua's most devoted and inspired disciple on the subject of her Ultimate talent!"

... How has she come to that interpretation of yesterday's meeting? Wait... Is she mad that you rambled so much about art appreciation in talking to her yesterday? Is this her way of saying "if you think you're so smart, you be the teacher?" Looking at her watchful, unblinking blue eyes, you honestly can't tell.

... You can, however, tell she's getting ticked off waiting for you to respond. "Tommy... If you have inspiration Atua has not seen fit to share with me, well, that's no good! I'm Atua's number one disciple, you see! So, for Atua to share inspiration with others and not me is unacceptable! If you don't want to share your ideas, we'll have to think about what else you have to offer... Blood offerings are always appreciated!"

Okay, that put the fire back in you. Clearly, she's looking for you to actually give her an answer, and you'd rather do that than give blood to her god. But even as you think, nothing comes to you. Shouldn't that be obvious? You ask Angie what she could possibly expect you to teach her: a brief glance around the art room she uses as he personal studio already tells you she's pushed boundaries of skill and creativity you've never even brushed against. You don't have anything to offer her from a technical perspective; you haven't even created what you'd call "artwork" in over a year-

Angie looks nonplussed at your lack of cooperation. Gradually, her eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Finally, she shakes herself awake again and alarmingly shouts, "Offering! Ah, I see, I see! Nyahaha, silly Tommy! You're the type of artist who won't give out anything for free, are you? Well, what could I offer you that would make you more generous, I wonder?"

What? You reassure her you're not holding out on her. It isn't that you need to be paid: you actually have zero idea of how to help her become a better artist, no useful information or special secrets to share. Perhaps, like anyone, you could offer your own perspective on her works as criticism, but you don't really consider that something worth her time-

"Hmmhnymm..." Angie mutters, her energy turning on and off like a faulty light bulb as she converses. Her eyes shoot back open as you trail off, concerned. "Holding out?! Not worth your time?! Tommy, indulging my whims earns you unlimited access to Atua's embrace, so comfy that one can't help but rest peacefully! Can you possibly be saying you need even more? Hmm? Hmm..." The artist seems pensive, twirling her brush deftly in the air with one hand as she tilts her chin up with the finger of the other. She points the (thankfully dry) paintbrush straight at your face. "It must be this, then: Tommy, if you present me with an offering of an especially special suggestion, I will grant you special rights to the body of Atua's most charming disciple." When she sees you staring dumbly for a minute, she clarifies. "Myself, of course! Tommy, I'm sure you can get a little spark going for me, can't you?"

She's still wearing the same innocent expression, so for a moment, you aren't sure if you've interpreted correctly. She can see that confusion on your face, so she makes it even more clear. "I imagine your mind is racing with all of the ways you might defile Atua's most cherished disciple, but my body is simply a tool for Atua's art, his arm into the world! Maybe you're into snuggling Atua's arm, or squeezing it, or smooching it, or sucking it, or biting it? Who am I but an arm to judge? The important thing is what new works you might draw into the world for Atua's glory! Nyahaha!" Angie laughs good-naturedly, but she grabs one of her bikini-clad breasts in the hand that isn't holding a brush as she speaks, making a show of playing with herself to drive her point home. She grins with a more mischievous smile, seeing she has your attention.

This isn't what you expected, but how can you say no to an offer like this? Although, now that you reconsider her outfit, you wonder if you're the first person she's given the offer of "Atua's arm." Putting what you want aside, Angie clearly has a lot of faith in your input... You try to take your mind off of the artist's boobs and put it back on her craft. What unique input do you have?