What an artsy type.
Even her husband, who cared so deeply about her, had used the word "obsessed" to describe her. Rachel must have been really devoted to painting lately.
And judging by the room before him, the lady did seem to have quite an eye for aesthetics. It was a fitting hobby for someone like her.
But none of that was the point—Art Prison?
This hobby of hers, painting, seemed to be connected to somewhere that had just come up in the car.
It was also somewhere he needed to visit alone next.
"Heh... That's just like her. Who knew she could be so patient?"
Old Man Hake naturally could have guessed as much, but when faced with Ed's somewhat strained explanation, he had managed to keep himself from looking in that direction.
Instead, he let out a rare laugh and marveled at Rachel's good nature.
"Even when I was younger than she is now, I'd already lost the ability to sit still. Clearly, you're the same."
The one he was commenting on in the second sentence was still Ed. He had apparently seen right through Ed's inability to relate to his wife's hobby.
"Yeah... I've really tried, but I just can't appreciate it."
Although Hake's words were something of an insult, Ed—who had seemed unable to hide his worry—didn't take offense. If anything, he relaxed even more and spoke with self-deprecating humor.
"Also, I don't remember any unfamiliar kid like you mentioned earlier, and I haven't heard anyone at the store bring one up... In a place like this, you'd think word of any strange stranger would spread quickly."
He scratched his head without thinking, but even then, he hadn't forgotten why Hake had come by.
Unfortunately, even after racking his brain, he still seemed to have nothing