one word.

“Hold still,” I said. My voice barely carried through the still air beneath the pine trees.
“You’ve been at this awhile.” Her voice was tight.

“Almost through; this isn’t a photo shoot, you know.” The effort to hide my malice a few minutes more robbed the admonition of any real force. All of my attention was on the sketch
More than a sketch.
It was almost done; she’d never be the same again.