Jules laughs out loud when she sees the nudes comment, smirking her amusement as she ambles over, hands in a pockets and with what could possibly be called a spring in her step. Artists are nice, generally speaking; not that she's met many, but the ones she has run into really were nice. "This might not be quite up your ally, but, um-- do you do copies?"

She frowns, like that's not quite the right word, and she pulls a photograph from her pocket, worn from being folded and unfolded so many times. "Not copies, I suppose, but portraits from photographs? Or just a sketch of the photograph, really."

An apologetic smile, and she holds the picture a bit lamely, still folded up. "I hope that would be considered supporting the arts, rather than insulting them." Forgive her, Angela; she's feeling terribly awkward and terribly British.