Some role play is off limits
A woman in a military cap and blue combat dress stands over Mersh holding a riding crop, while he waits beside her in a pink bathrobe with a drink in his hand and a cat at his feet. Her speech balloon reads: Can't we just have normal sex? I mean continental conquest by rail is just absurd. I can't pretend it's not.
She takes the full height of the sheet at the left, he is drawn small and set back at the right, and the balloon fills the space above him. The scale difference does the joke before the lettering does.
Cobalt and steel blue through her uniform against the dusty pink of his robe, over an olive ground. Her blonde hair is the only other warm note.
Ink contour with washes laid inside it, hers modelled and hatched while his are left flat — she is rendered as a comic book figure and he is not, which is the point of the picture.
Watercolour over ink in a spiral-bound sketchbook, photographed as a page with the binding across the top.
No signature within the painted area.
Some role play is off limits