She catches them-- barely (kind of). The cotton and polyester blend meteor hits her in the face first, she lets out a quiet "Oof" when it does, catching them both as they unravel on their way to the ground.

"I slave away all night over a hot bucket of paint, just to give Jeremiah Blackwell a unibrow so amazing it would make Frida Khalo jealous, and this is how I get treated?" She rubs wearily at her face, boy did Chloe have a good arm.

She brushes past Chloe, getting a better look at the damage through the mirror propped up in the corner of the room.

"You know, I bet if I just hung around the MoMA and didn't say a word someone would think I was some kind of performance piece. Maybe I should give up on the photography thing and do that instead."

Chloe seemed to have fared a little better than her, she glances at her through the mirror-- an errant line of paint here and there. But in better light she notices the slightest smudge of white on her cheek.

"You've got something-- on your face." She licks her thumb and reaches over, she has to stand on her toes just a little to get at it but she does, rubbing vigorously at the dried paint. "This would be so much easier if you weren't basically a tree."