Color and Light

There hadn't ever been a time in the past when Harry thought he'd be here, he never would've pictured himself as the sort to attend an event like this. But all it had taken to pique his interest had been a passing mention from a client in the shop that afternoon, a recommendation that he take a look. And so far? harry was glad he'd listened.

He didn't quite 'get' the art on display, felt more like he was imposing his own take than seeing the artists' intent, but the wine was good. And gradually, Harry began to settle into some kind of contemplative frame of mind, absorbing it from the other patrons here as he studied each piece and eavesdropped on their insights. "I just might have to buy this piece so I won't get in trouble for touching it," he said sidelong to Shoshannah as she breezed around the gallery, a little grin on his lips. "It looks like it's got quite a few layers of texture developed."

Janey hadn't gone anywhere in public alone since the massacre at the park. Danny had accompanied her to and from work when he could, or she'd taken a taxi. Her nerves were still too raw; she just didn't feel safe. And being in a large gathering now, much like she had been at the vigil, wasn't a comforting feeling. But she'd told herself she had to go to the gallery. She hadn't seen Shoshannah in quite some time, and that was part of the reason, but she also knew if she didn't get over her fear, it would only become worse.

She'd wedged herself in a corner, where she was nibbling on a muffin and watching the people around her more than enjoying the paintings. She didn't know either of the artists, but the piece in front of her was quite vibrant in its color, a little too intense for her likings. She scanned the crowd for a familiar face, but found none, just a blur of strangers and strange voices around her. The clock on the far side of the room read five past seven. Just thirty minutes. I'm only going to stay thirty minutes. Then she'd catch a taxi home and crawl into bed. Twenty-five to go...

Gideon walked into the room determined to not look out of place. He'd used next month's rent on buying a new suit, but they'd find the money to make it up somewhere - or else their landlord would be understanding. he usually was. he had been before. And a new suit was important, even if he hadn't been able to go to the right tailor. If he - and his family - was going to get anywhere in the world, he had to look the part.

Of course, he also had to have an eye out for the places to see and be seen. He hadn't been invited to this event, but it was public. Still, he'd carefully weighed up whether he should be here or not - after all, Shoshannah Hagel was hardly the dutiful daughter that he would have expected her to be. Yet, still - he wanted to get his face known. He wanted to move in the right circles. And the right people would be here. It was a start, an opportunity. And he would take each and every one which came his way, no matter what. Taking a glass of wine from the refreshment table, he tried to surreptitiously ensure he was holding it correctly, that he was standing correctly, as he looked around the room for someone important to talk to.

Dodge was a little distracted, sipping on his wine, watching the patrons of the event. His meeting with his crew had gone well, though it was odd seeing the grown up version of themselves in the old apartment. It seemed odd, but fitting at the same time. They were nervous, but noses would be kept clean, eyes would be downcast and trouble would be avoided. Curfews were instated, which was the first time in a long time, but they were doing it, understand and nodding. There was no need for anyone else to get hurt.

Now here he was, pretending everything was fine, smiling politely with his fedora pulled down a little more than usual, and for being usually cheerful, he’d made a round and was now loitering near the back appearing to be evaluating a painting there, but really just trying to kill a little longer before he could leave.

Madeline thought she was holding it together rather well. She’d covered the circles under her eyes and put a bright smile on her face, working the room just as Shoshannah was. She was quieter though and people wouldn’t notice as easily that she was tired and exhausted.

Her circuit took her to the back of the gallery, holding her own wine glass in hand and she looked around to see if anyone needed assistance. She spotted the man in fedora and familiarity niggled her. The fedora was incredibly familiar and it drew her in. “Do you like it?” she asked, her voice pleasant but soft, just a hint of tiredness in there.

“Hmm?” Dodge asked, turning and looking at the woman next to him. “Oh the painting,” he said flashing smile which didn’t quite reach to his eyes. Not that it mattered his eyes were hard to see anyway. “Lovely. Incredible use of color. You?”

His suit was expensive, more expensive than the light, beaded black dress she wore but it didn’t deter Maddy like it may have with some. “My personal opinion of the particular artist colors my opinion but she did an alright job.” She tilted her head and looked up at him from under her lashes. She could tell art appreciation when she saw it and his appreciation wasn’t particularly true. “Are you interested?”

There was another smirk and Dodge tucked his hands into his pockets. “You have a personal opinion of her? Do tell,” he asked, giving her space to expound, letting someone else speak because he didn’t quite have the words.

If he was asking for words, he was asking her on the wrong day. Madeline mustered it up though and she looked away from him to the painting. “I think she’s someone who hopes not to be forgotten. She doesn’t trust herself. She lacks the certain visceral quality Antonio has. Some of that comes with practice, some of it comes with experience. I’m interested to see what she’ll put out in a few years once she’s seen the world a little more.”

“There’s a difference between experience and practice?” Dodge asked, curious now. “What you’re suggesting is that she give into the art and not care if she’s never noticed until after she’s dead?” Where was the fun in that? He was the living legend wasn’t he?

Madeline shrugged a bit and sipped her wine. “There is. You can technically be an amazing painter, but if you haven’t seen what the world has to offer, how can you share it with others? You have to have been in the dark to appreciate the light. That sort of thing.” She looked at him, a tired, amused little smile on her features. It clicked, finally, who it was. A subject she’d sketched many times before during her childhood. “To have experienced the worst of society to appreciate... what some like to say is the best.”

“In the thick of it then,” he said musing a little. Her last comment half caught him off guard. Not enough to do anything other than his hands shift in his pockets a little. “The grass is always greener,” he suggested, trying to study her now, trying to pick out her features.

She sensed his shift but didn’t comment, looking at Stella’s painting with that smile on her face. “Is it? I suppose money and comfort beats not having it. It seems lonely though.” Then again, she was quite lonely herself.

“You have to remember to keep those that mean the most to you close,” Dodge said, still conversationally, but feeling an awful lot like he was talking about himself. Did he know her? She seemed familiar but it was still a face he couldn’t quite place.

“Oh, always,” Madeline agreed with a nod. “It’s emotion like that, loyalty, that can feed inspiration.” She tucked a loose curl behind her ear with her injured hand, the rest of her hair tamed into a loose chignon.

Now he was almost certain of it, that she knew him. “Loyalty is the cornerstone. Though you need to have something to back it, something to give back to those who you inspire,” he said, a little bit of the playful Dodge back despite the dark clouds floating around his head.

“There are some that you can’t,” she pointed out, teasing in return even if her heart wasn’t fully in it. He seemed to be reaching himself.

“Nah, everyone has something they are looking for. You just have to figure out what it is,” Dodge said with that same smirk, enjoying the easy tease. It was distracting at the very least.

“Have you found what you’re looking for here?” Maddy asked, returning the smirk with one of her own. It had been awhile since she’d flirted and there was something easy about it. “You have this look on you, like you’re trying to find something but aren’t sure what it is.”

Dodge turned, looking at her properly and reaching up to push his hat off of his face a little more. “I’ve found what I was looking for yes, though tonight...tonight I’m waiting on something. Just not sure what it is.”

Madeline arched an eyebrow at him, looking curious. “Is there anything I can help you with? A particular painting? We do have the gallery in the front.” She could see his face properly now that he pushed his hat up and the features were still recognizable although she’d never seen them up close like this.

Dodge shook his head, grinning a little though this time it was obvious that the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “No, I don’t think it’s here. I appreciate the help though...” he paused, giving her space to add her name.

“Madeline.” She extended her right hand out of habit even though it was injured. “Are you sure?”

The injured hand caught his attention, but he was just gentle with is as he shook it, nodding with the name. Madeline. He’d remember that one. “I’m sure,” he promised, giving her a nod and finishing off his glass of wine. “I should...get another, make a round. It’s been a pleasure Madeline.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Dodge. Have a good evening.” She couldn’t help it and she gave him a tired but dazzling smile and moved past him to speak with other guests.

Elle drifted from painting to painting at a fairly brisk pace compared to some of the other guests. Her flittering in and out amongst them wasn't due to disinterest – far from it. There was much to see and Elle wanted to take it all in. With all that was on offer she didn't want to linger at each painting for too long, fearing she may get too captured in a few pieces at the expense of the rest. Mental notes were taken about which to come back to, about those that leapt out at her and virtually demanded she pay closer attention.

Once she had completed her initial circuit, Elle wandered back to the first piece that had caught her attention. It was one of Stella's. As Shoshannah had predicted, Elle found the artist's work distinctly resonated with her. Antonio's had too, but in a far different way. The dark and the shadows stirred up something she wasn't sure she could really articulate or completely understand.

Standing in front of the artwork, she drank in the vibrancy of colour, the elegance of forms. Each brush stroke served a purpose and Elle wondered after that purpose. Underneath the brightness and the boldness, something was being said. With tunnel vision, she focused on it intently, trying to interpret whatever message was contained within the canvas.