[ He hums a little, a soft little mm in thought. Music is... definitely not one of his strengths, and he isn't sure why art of all things would need gods, but it'd also be a dick move to disparage that right to her face? So he's not going to. ]

I can draw a little. Not that I do it all that often, but. [ A shrug, but what?? He's just trying to relate instead of being an ass.

... He also cares more about the other part. She's a person in front of him, right now; somehow the thought of how she's doing is a much more tangible concept than being a god of art. ]

Is it tough at all? I mean, remembering someone you met in another life at a buffet line is one thing, but has anything bad ever come of it? Shit like headaches, or... [ he vaguely waves his free hand; he doesn't know. ] ... You holding up okay, with all that?