"That was my favourite part," the silver-haired man slowly half-whines.  "Jean, you always paint over my favourite parts."
   "It needed . . . it needed more black."
   "You always say it needs whatever it is you do."
   "It . . . always does."  Jean-Michel Basquiat brushes a streak of blue across a bright red apple that Andy Warhol has painted.  "S-see?  It needed that."
   Andy tilts his head.  "Well...  I guess you're right."
   Jean-Michel nods to himself and carefully paints the word "red" in white on the streak of blue.  "There," he mumbles and walks back to where Andy is sitting.
   Andy considers the painting from his seat, stands slowly, watches the painting from a few angles.  He finally picks a stencil up from the floor, tapes it to a part of the painting, considers it, and paints half of it pink.  He steps back, considers it again, paints the other half green, and moves back to the seats, leaving the stencil in place.