Framing the moment
Who: Angelo and open to all!
Where: A gallery uptown
When: Late afternoon
Normally, he would still be on his first cup of tea right now, still chasing his starting high for the day and lounging on his sofa, watching sunlight bleed through the window or staring at a canvas. On most days, this time would've only seen Angelo whiling away the hours before work, at most venturing into Chinatown for some breakfast. But this wasn't a normal day, no sir.
It had actually started hours earlier when he'd been roused from sleep by a series of knocks at the front door. Assuming it would be Shoshannah (who else visited him?) he'd stumbled to answer it in his bed clothes, and been shocked by the man waiting on the other side. He was a representative of the Walker estate, he'd said, and at their request he'd come by with a simple delivery. A set of keys to a gallery across town, and a short message that was unsigned by a specific Walker, but that was full of well-wishing and polite encouragement from the family as a whole.
Dazed by the man's arrival, Angelo had barely managed to nod in understanding before he left, but once the door was close it hit him. It was happening, and soon. And for once? There wasn't enough time in the day. So he'd dressed quick, hailing a taxi on the streets and tipping the man in advance for his patience as Angelo stuffed the cab full of paintings and a few tools to hang them with. He'd been working steadily ever since meeting Mina, so this trip actually saw more than the number of canvases he'd originally told her about, but would it be enough?
It seemed like it as Angelo toiled away inside the gallery, walking its' long pathways again and again to both study the paintings he'd already hung and try to devise where the remaining ones might work best. He'd used the phone in the back room once, leaving a message at the Drake for Shoshannah to come by if she had time, but hadn't lingered. There was too much to do before tomorrow night.
With the front door open to allow for a breeze and some light that the covered windows didn't produce, Angelo was finally realizing that he'd painted in phases before. One wall was stark pieces, lacking color and composed of sharp lines of expression, while another was a long run of vibrant abstraction that poured color out at the viewer. He'd grouped most of the paintings with actual subjects together, smiling fondly at each as it was hung and hoping that whoever came out tomorrow would smile the same way.
Pausing in his work, Angelo moved towards the propped door, where his tools and a bag of carryout food sat nearby. He still had to work at the Kitten tonight, which meant keeping his strength up now, especially thinking that he'd be back here afterwards to keep setting up. Settling on the floor, Angelo dug free a waxpaper-wrapped sandwich and a thermos of tea, situating himself so that he could see out the open door as he took his first bite and smiled serenely. "S'your show too, darlin'," he muttered around a mouthful, addressing the whole city beyond the door, "You's the one who put me here."
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Marian had worked another nightshift at Nighthawk's, getting off work as the sun came up, and crashing hard afterward. By late afternoon though she was up, dressed in one of the new dresses from Zhen, a pretty lavender one, wandering the streets of town under the pretense of running errands when she really felt like she might be looking for her brother. She'd hated the way things had ended between them, hated that fight, his cold shoulder towards her. She needed to apologize, buy him dinner, something, but she still couldn't bring herself to go directly to his vault and find him.
The gallery was outside of her neighborhood, but in Zhen's clothes Marian felt a little less out of place wandering uptown, hoping to see if she could spot Roy closer to the Drake where he sometimes did work. The open door in the midst of the covered windows caught her eye, and a voice coming from inside, which she couldn't understand but thought might be directed to her, had her turning towards it, looking inside. "Excuse me?" she asked politely enough, spotting Angelo just inside, but after a moment her eyes drifted past him to the glimpses of artwork on the walls behind him.
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Of course his odd attention spans would get the best of him, it just figured. Angelo had been so caught up in his own thoughts and the glimpse of the city outside the door, with how he could see it all unfolding in his mind, that the shape of some indistinct person walking past had escaped him entirely. Until she spoke, that is. He offered an apologetic grin as he swallowed the mouthful of sandwich he'd been chewing, shaking his head Marian's way. "M'sorry, miss, I was jus' kinda talkin'," he said, snaggin the thermos lid he'd poured tea into and rising from the floor, "Not to anyone too particular, neither, I guess you jus' happened to be in earshot."
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Marian's eyes turned back to Angelo, but slowly having been caught up in one of the paintings on the wall behind him. "Oh, it's alright I promise," she said waving to show no harm was done. "I thought I'd just missed what you were saying. I didn't want to think I was ignoring you or anything." She smiled sweetly at him, then her eyes slipped past him again. "What's going on in here?"
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At the question, Angelo grinned widely as he took a sip of tea, head canting back as if to invite Marian in. She was dressed nice enough that she looked the sort who might do gallery shows, but who knew? Maybe this was a chance to convince one more attendee to show up tomorrow. "Settin' up for an art show," Angelo answered, looking back to the piece in question. He'd painted it a while back, before Shoshannah or even Lenore, and honestly it was one of his personal favorites.
Blacks and greys created the cityscape, punctuated on one side by warm yellows that might've been Nighthawke's, and throughout the canvas was splashes of color both in the form of raindrops and figures on the sidewalk either running from the downpour or basking in it. "Ain't s'posed to open 'til tomorrow night, but seein' as I got the keys? I don' mind givin' an early look if you's curious."
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"An art show?" Marian asked, not entirely sure what that meant. She might have looked the part in her dress, but she didn't fill it. Reaching up to try and smooth her unruly hair she gave Angelo another sweet smile. "You wouldn't mind showing me? I'd love to see," she said honestly, pulling her eyes again from the painting to Angelo.
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"Yeah, a gallery showin'?" Angelo elaborated, stepping back into the shade of the dim gallery and waving for Marian to follow. "I paint a bit now an' then, right? An' if I believe what folks is sayin', tomorrow night a whole lotta people's gonna come by here, lookin' all presentable like you," he praised with a grin, "An' supposedly they'll be lookin' to bring some a'these pieces home with 'em. Still don' quite believe it's that simple, but stranger things pass me by near every day in this city." He chuckled for a moment, glancing around the gallery as if deciding where to start, then sighed at himself and offered a hand to Marian. "I swear my momma's savin' up cuffs to drop on my ear, where's my manners? Angelo Lacoste, miss, an' I'll be your tour guide."
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A gallery showing? Marian was worried she'd have to ask again what he meant, but thankfully he sort of explained it. At his compliment she blushed, ducking her head a little and pulling at her a little, as if trying to smooth the unruly curls. "So people will come and buy your paintings? That sounds exciting," she told him because to her, it really did. When he introduced himself, she couldn't help but smile taking his hand. "I'm Marian. Marian Grady," she told him. "And thank you in advance for the tour."
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"I got no way of knowin' if I'm gon' sell a single one," Angelo stressed with a grin, lightly shaking Marian's hand and releasing, "But if I do, it's gonna be my biggest year ever." Technically it already was, given that he'd sold a staggering three pieces since New Year's. "Truth told, I was jus' excited t'see my name in the Echo, you know?" he said, taking a leisurely pace as he walked past the painting she'd been looking at, "I mean, wasn't never why I did this or nothin'? I jus' like workin' a brush, tryin' to show what I see. But I been doin' it for a decade an' change now, might be time to show some of it." That fact had him nervous too, paranoid about how his work might hold up under the scrutiny of real artists and the socialites who took in their work, but being surrounded by both his paintings and the relative quiet had a calming effect.
"Now that first one you saw from outside? That hit me down at the Hawk a few years back," Angelo said with a grin, "My umbrella'd just died an' I was on my fourth cup a'joe, looked out the window an' saw this homeless fella jus' smilin' up at the rain. This one here? This came a week or so later, first time the rain let up in that whole week." he stopped by another painting he'd hung, this one strokes and whorls of deep blues and purples blended together to create a swirl of rain water going down the drain, the swirls of water reflecting a twisted image of both the buildings looming overhead and the stars beyond them. "Weren't no stars that night," Angelo added as he looked at his work, "But I feel like I gave it a good guess."
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"Oh, yes, that is exciting," she told him, following after him. She stalled in front of the first painting, studying it for a moment longer, before they started moving on to the next painting. "I work there," she told him. "At Nighthawks. I'm a waitress." She smiled about it, feeling very proud of her job, even if it wasn't much. Marian worked hard, and she was a really really good waitress. At the next painting she stopped again, staring at what was before her. Marian had a grasp of so very little when it came to these sort of things, but she couldn't help but feel like the world was much smaller looking at Angelo's paintings. "That's what it looks like," she whispered softly, awe in her voice.
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Maybe Shannah was right, maybe he could reach people with his work. If the look on Marian's face was any indicator, he actually could... He smiled warmly, looking to the painting with her. "Hawk's one of my favorite spots 'round town," he said conversationally, "I'm surprised I ain't seen you there before, but I'm bettin' I will." He stepped back a bit to get a better look at the picture, smiling wistfully to himself over it. FOr all the drug-fueled hazes and patchy bits of memory in his head, Angelo always felt like he could recall what had gone into a painting. "That's what it looks like," he agreed quietly, "When you realize there ain't that much distance 'tween the stars and the sidewalks, dependin' on how you look at it."
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"I'm there a lot, but I work nights mostly. The closer to the middle of the night, the more likely it is that I'm there," she told him, eyes never leaving the painting. "So close..." she breathed, not having ever thought about things like that. The stars were in the sky, the ground was under her feet. There was little space in Marian's world for abstract thoughts. There was always so much else to that worried her that filled her mind.
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"Trick's to know when to try for 'em," Angelo confided quietly, "Sometimes you gotta jus' be content with lookin', knowin' that they's close as they need to be to us. Other times? Well, man's reach oughta exceed his grasp, as my boy Browning said, or what's a heaven for." In sharp contrast to Marian, there wasn't room in Angelo's world for much that wasn't abstract thought, but it wasn't a luxury. It was a choice. They were both people with little income and no real standing in the city, but his trick was a simple one: he didn't care. He had what he needed, who he needed, and that was enough. "You oughta come on by tomorrow night too, miss Marian," Angelo suggested, "Take some more time if you's enjoyin' what you see. Bring a fella, even."
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Marian nodded along, not completely understanding, but she wasn't the type to actually think like that at any point in her life. So the change in thinking was difficult to grasp. She wanted to though, to think about things differently, like the painting made her feel. At his suggestion, Marian's eye got wide, looking over at Angelo with shock. "Come to the show? You said people would be coming to buy things and looking nice...I don't...A fella?" Marian frowned a little, flush creeping into her cheeks as she dropped her eyes from his. "I want to come," she corrected, "I just don't think I'll fit in." Of course, her thoughts drifted to Alec, wondering if he'd want to come with her, he'd fit in fine, but she doubted there were few places where Alec didn't fit in.
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Angelo smiled, seemingly in understanding, and said nothing for a long moment where he weighed whether or not to say anything at all. Which was decided as it usually was, in favor of trying to shift the perspectives of people in this city. "Ms. Marian, you gon' have to forgive a man for speakin' frankly," he warned, "But there's no proper fit needed 'round here. Not tonight, not tomorrow night. You come as you are and that'll be all anyone can ask or expect."
The smile softened more for reassurance as Angelo nodded back at the door she'd happened past, looking out onto a nicer neighborhood than it seemed either of them claimed as home. "This ain't my usual scene, you know? I live out by Chinatown, three dollar a week basement apartment, reusin' tea bags to stretch a dime. But I got this chance, an' to me... I'm not the only one who got it. It's an open show, open to the whole city, an' that's somethin' we all fit into jus' fine."
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Marian took in every word Angelo said, pulling her eyes from the painting to watch him. When he was done, she looked around, teeth chewing on her lower lip a little while she considered it. She hadn't thought about it in his terms, that the show was open, which meant to everyone. "I'll think about it," Marian promised, seeming like she meant it, because she did. More than anything she wanted to spend the evening tomorrow looking at Angelo's paintings for as long as someone would let her, but that didn't make the idea of wandering into something she assumed would be fancy sit any better in her mind.
Angelo and Shoshannah
After leaving Elle, Shoshannah headed back to the Drake with a newfound sense of ease in her. She had a plan to go straight to her room and start digging through the trunk of clothes she had to find the exact dress she’d mentioned for Elle, but her least favorite receptionist called her to the desk before she had a chance. At least this time she had something Shoshannah wanted to hear. Angelo had left word for her here and asked her to stop by the gallery, which Dolores had managed to write down the address of on a piece of paper for her, if she could. So Shoshannah thanked the girl and turned back around to head outside, pulling her black jacket close to her. Walking took a little longer than she thought, but she felt like she was more in walking clothes today than any other day with her black capri pants and white blouse. Sure, the heels didn’t help, but she was used to them.
Once she made it to the gallery, she stood outside for a moment and just marveled at it. This was the place that Angelo’s work would be hanging. Actually, this was the place that some of his work was hanging, she could see it from outside already. Smiling, she stepped inside and glanced around. Upon seeing Angelo, Shoshannah stepped as quietly as she could until she was nearby him, a grin on her face. “Excuse me, is this where I can find the famous artist Angelo Lacoste?”
He’d been standing with his back to her, studying a far wall to see if he liked how a trio of pieces fit together with lips pursed in contemplation. It was a study in the use of darkness, really, with the paintings going from a waterfront composition where ship lights melded with star lights, to a painting of Lenore in sleep, her back to the viewer and her form made of stark angles of white in a sea of black, and finally one of the building that had been his parents’ shop in the past. In that last piece, Angelo had layered black and grey over the building to capture a darkened fire that spread out over the run-down neighborhood and leeched away color under rolling white smoke; a decidedly more bleak piece than his usual endeavors.
Still, the sound of Shoshannah’s greeting was more than enough to snap him from his musings, turning to look her way with a slight smile and disbelieving shake of his head. “Ain’t no one here with a claim to fame, my good lady,” he greeted, “But we’s offerin’ tours if you might be interested. I’m hopin’ you is, I already gave myself the rounds a few times an’ I’m all outta things to talk ‘bout with my fool self.”
"Really? Because I see a famous artist right here," Shoshannah said as she smiled up at him. "Famous enough to get into The Echo, which is pretty amazing." She glanced around him to the paintings on the wall then back at him. "I'd love a tour, but first you should know that everything looks amazing." The way he'd set up the paintings drew her in, but it was the paintings themselves that kept her there, wanting to study each and everyone one of them. But he'd offered a tour, so she slipped her hand around his and smiled up at him again. "Lead the way."
“Well, these is my dark set,” he said first, nodding at the ones in front of them, “I was tryin’ out what might happen if I wasn’ throwin’ on color like it was on sale at the marketplace, playin’ with negative space an’ all that.” Squeezing her hand, Angelo lingered for a moment before leading Shoshannah onward at a leisurely pace. “M’glad you got my message,” he said as he walked, “Figured tomorrow jus’ might be a lil’ busy for me, an’ I wanted a chance to jus’ be here with you... which brings us here.” He chuckled quietly, nodding at the next painting before them; an older one he’d done of Dodge and his kids lurking in an alleyway, figures shadowed and eyes expressed in small dots of vibrant gem hues, the sorts of things they loved to steal. “Lil’ bit of a crowd here, right? An’ the focus is on ‘em, on what they seein’ when they lookin’ out,” Angelo explained, “Which, for the record? These boys’d back me up that all you gotta do to get in the Echo is get caught doin’ somethin’ you shouldn’t.”
"They're beautiful," She said just before he lead her away from them. When he spoke, she squeezed his hand back, her smile still bright as ever. "I'm glad you left word for me. I wouldn't miss this for the world. I want tomorrow to be the busiest day you've had yet because it means people are finally getting to appreciate your work. But if it gets too busy, I'll be there to help with anything you need." She had no trouble promising that. "Elle and I already have plants to get ready together. She's coming too, she promised." Once they were at the next painting, Shoshannah took her time to study it, but nudged Angelo with her elbow when he spoke. "That's not all you have to do to get into the Echo, and you're not doing something you shouldn't be doing. You're doing something amazing, Angelo," She said, watching him seriously. Even if he hadn't meant his art show, Shoshannah wasn't about to let the two things connect.
In truth, Angelo wasn’t quite sure how much of tomorrow was going to be in his hands. Aside from hanging the show and setting starting bids for each painting, he’d been told that the more managerial bits would be seen to, which was a relief. Still, knowing that he’d have someone to turn to in the midst of it all if and when the attention was too much? That was priceless. “So’re you,” he confided with a less serious but still sincere look at Shannah, “Imma wait an’ see how tomorrow goes ‘fore I decide it’s amazing, but you bein’ here? Keepin’ my faith that it could even happen? Bringin’ Elle, posin’ for me, every single thing’s one I couldn’t do without.”
Shannah didn't believe what she was doing was amazing for a few reasons. It was something she would have done anyway and it was something she wanted to do. To see Angelo succeed, she'd do just about anything. She gripped his hand tighter, reaching with her free one to take his other hand. "No matter what happens tomorrow, it's going to be amazing. You should be proud, really proud. I'm so proud of you." He sounded so heartfelt that it brought back the worry from before, the questions she'd asked Elle, the chance that maybe she'd done something wrong. She wanted to ask him the same questions, to clear up once and for all that she hadn't done anything to hurt him unknowingly, but she wasn't so sure now was the right time. The longer she thought on it, though, the more she knew that it was now or tomorrow and she would not bring something up like that on a day so important.
"Angelo, can I ask you something?" She started out, taking a moment to phrase the words in her head before saying them. "Yesterday, I saw Ian in the lobby of the Drake with blood on his clothes, bruises everywhere...So I helped him back to his room. Turns out he was mugged," She frowned, but kept speaking, heart beating much faster than when she'd spoken to Elle earlier. "I wanted to help him get settled, make sure he didn't need anything, but apparently I didn't think about him needing a change of clothes. He sort of needed help with his shirt and then kind of stared at me, but I got him a clean shirt and went to get him some water while he put it on. I just..I wanted you to know. He's my friend, he was hurt, and I really just wanted to help him but I had no idea he was going to end up without a shirt on..."
For a moment there, Angelo had to struggle to figure out what the problem actually was. It was clear that something in that tale had bothered Shannah, but initially? Only the mugging itself sounded like something to worry over, and of course that couldn’t have been it. When it clicked, though, it lined up in a way that made him sad for the inevitable future they would share before their lives split apart; she felt like she’d betrayed him, like he might spurn her for this. “Hush now,” Angelo murmured, slipping his hand from Shannah’s to pull her in close and finding another level of her concern as he felt her heart racing in her chest.
“S’okay, Sho,” Angelo assured her first, smoothing a hand over her hair, “What you did was the right thing in every way, you gotta know that. Din’ cross no lines with me, an’ you never will if it’s in the name a’helpin’ someone.” He leaned in to kiss the top of her head, breathing deep for a moment. “You ain’t never gotta be scared to tell me the truth, doll, not never. Not even if it’s just a simple truth like knowin’ that it’s time t’say goodbye t’me... which I’m hopin’ don’t ever come?” he said, grinning reassuringly for her, “But if it does I’ll be okay jus’ knowin’ it’s what feels right for you.”
She was listening to him, trying to calm herself down, when she heard the last part of his words and they kickstarted her heart back up more. She didn't like the way that sounded, nor was she under the impression that there was going to be a time for them to say goodbye. Looking up at Angelo, Shoshannah frowned. His grin should have been reassuring, but it wasn't this time. It worried her. "Let's not think about that," She offered, hoping that they could just leave goodbyes out of it. They weren't exactly her favorite thing in the world, and especially not when it concerned Angelo. "I just wanted you to know and I wanted to make sure everything was still fine." She had her arms wrapped around him and gave him a little squeeze before continuing. "I wanted to tell you but I thought now was a much better time than tomorrow...even so, I don't want to dwell on it. This is your time. There’s still paintings for you to show me and if there’s anything I can do to help today, then there’s that too.”
He’d probably gone too far with that, and Angelo shouldn’t have expected her to understand what he meant. Really, if she had? She’d be even more upset with him. Some day, maybe soon, he’d need to sit down and figure out if she wasn’t going to grow tired of him like the others had. If she wasn’t, what did that mean? It was a new dimension of stability that he’d never considered, that was for sure, a trust Angelo hadn’t ever thought he’d hit. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, fleetingly kissing her temple, “Ever’thing’s better than fine, Sho, believe that. I’m glad you told me, glad you’re here now, an’ that’s what I think we oughta dwell on, yeah?” And maybe he’d let go of his doubts, finally? He could try, that was for sure, because the way she was clinging to him drove the point home; if they weren’t together, it wouldn’t be by her choice. “Forgive me for talkin’ the part of a fool?” he asked, leaning in to kiss her fleetingly.
Shannah was more than happy to dwell on the positive. Angelo's art was up on these walls, there would be people in to see it tomorrow, and she was lucky enough to get a tour right here and now. So she smiled at him, stretching up on her tip toes to meet him in the kiss. She let her hands slide down to his again and smiled when they pulled apart. "Show me some more paintings? Or do you need help putting some more up?" From the looks of it, he seemed to have everything in its place already, but she was ready to hold a hammer or some nails or whatever he needed, if he in fact needed anything.
“Actually, I had somethin’ else in mind,” Angelo confessed, drawing her with him as he stepped back to put his back to the wall between a few paintings, “Somethin’ I wanted to talk with you about.” He looked from side to side down the expanse of the gallery, smiling contentedly as he imagined how it might look in other circumstances; maybe full of people milling around, drinks in hand as some soft music filled the air. “I don’ know how tomorrow’ll go, but if I even sell one piece? The scratch from that’d be enough to float me rentin’ this out again, an’ I know a few folks in town who’d do well with a chance to show their stuff. Like my boy Remy, or that miss you mentioned, Cheyenne? Or... or you,” he said at last, smoothing his hands up Shannah’s back, “Think that’s somethin’ you’d wanna take a stab at?”
That was something she hadn't expected. Shannah watched him for a moment, studying his eyes, before she glanced down the walls and tried to imagine her pictures, blown up and framed, where his paintings were. It was difficult at first, because she wanted to see Angelo's pantings there, but as she started piecing together where what photograph would go, Shoshannah looked back at Angelo with a smile on her lips again. "You'd rent this out again for me? Angelo, that's really sweet, but are you sure that it'd be worth it? I might not even have enough to fill the space..." Maybe she did, but she imagined what she was feeling was a little like what Angelo was feeling now. That nervousness mixed with the twinges of excitement. "And your money could be used for something else, something for you."
He gave a small, throaty laugh at her protests, watching the shine of excitement blossom in Shoshannah and wondering if that had been how he looked. “This’d be somethin’ for me,” he pointed out, “Alls I want is for this city to see the dreamers an’ their dreams, maybe admit they got some of their own, that they’s shared.” He leaned right in to rest his forehead against hers, loving the nervous, thoughtful smile she wore. “Remy could bring some sculptures, you could hang some prints, an’ I know I ain’t the only man with a paintbrush in this town,” he mused slowly, “An’ whatever came of it, it’d be worth it. I mean, I got everything I need already, Sho. So whatever it costs to take a shot? If tomorrow pays for it, then it’s just another chance we get to take together.”
It was hard to stay doubting with Angelo around. He made pretty fantastic points, and if it was a joint showing then she wouldn't feel so out of place. And she'd have Angelo there, so it wouldn't be nearly as scary as if she'd been doing this on her own. Resting her hands on his arms, she stood on her tip toes again and kissed him, pulling back only to look in his eyes. "Let's try it. If it works out, you'll have to help me pick which pictures to hang."
“Tall order, Sho,” he teased gently, “Cuz my first thought’s gonna be that we jus’ need a bigger space.” But it was a good idea for a lot of reasons, and the one he felt right now was that just talking about it cancelled the nervousness of tomorrow. It was something to plan, to hope for, to work towards together. “But whatever comes of it? I like thinkin’ we got a whole lotta work to do together, figurin’ this out.”
She felt the same way. She was looking forward to the idea of something she could weather with Angelo. It was a really nice thought, knowing that something was for her to look forward to. She nodded again. "I don't think we'll need a bigger space because of me, but I didn't know that Remy sculpted. And if he and Cheyenne want to join, then we might need a bigger space. Doesn't really matter, whatever space we need I know we can find it together." She squeezed his hand again. "But I'd still like to see the rest of your art, unless the tour's over, that is, and I can treat the artist to dinner?"
Angelo nodded back, turning so he could start walking backwards and gently leading Sho along after him with her hand caught. “Dinner sounds a treat, long as you’s good with the Hawk again,” he warned playfully, “Had one a’them servers pass by earlier, sweet young lady named Marian, an’ now I’m in the mood f’my usual booth. An’ hopin’ she an’ a fella make it out tomorrow, I don’ think she even knew galleries like this existed.” Which had been wonderful for him to witness, too; the wide-eyed awe Marian had was a definite affirmation for Angelo. “‘Course, since they’s open all night? I ain’t in no rush, you set the pace,” he requested, stopping his footsteps but pulling Shannah back in towards him, “I like how you done with that task so far, why go changin’ it?”
"Nighthawk's sounds perfect," She said, following easily along with him, all too happy to be beside him when he pulled her close again. "So if I get to set the pace, then we're going to look at some more of your paintings first. Will you show me your favorite one here? Or is that like asking me to pick my favorite photo? It's a hard question..."
“Hard to answer,” he agreed, looking around thoughtfully. “I got a few that isn’t here, for one. Coupla canvases that aren’t f’sale at any price, much as that makes me a fool. But even if I had ‘em all laid out in a line? I doubt I could pick.” To Angelo, it was something of a realization in the moment, finally coming into the perspective that these paintings formed a strange timeline for him. His phases had been motivated by his life, of course, emotional highs and lows dictating light and dark, angular or flowing, expressionist or abstract, but to look down the line at all of them? He was more aware of the passage of time than he’d been in years.
“I don’ think I’ve painted my favorite yet,” he eventually said, “I mean, I had moments so sweet that when I laid ‘em down I felt like I captured ‘em, an’ I had lows so low that I did the same, givin’ myself reminders of the light an’ dark... but my favorite? Either it don’ exist yet, or it got washed off in the shower a few days after you came by.” He’d definitely loved the streaks he’d put along Shannah’s arm and hand, creating a vibrant contrast in the usual symmetry of the human body.
"I took pictures of it. I haven't developed them yet but the film wasn't stolen with the camera." The realization that one of his favorite pieces had been painted on her arm produced a bright grin from Shannah. "I know it's not there anymore, but at least there's pictures of it. And you not putting everything you have up here for sale doesn't make you a fool. I don't think anyone could sell everything they have. There are pieces that mean so much to you that no amount of money could make their sale worthwhile. You're always calling yourself foolish and I've never seen you do anything of the sort." Smiling at him, she tugged on his arm gently and started walking towards a set of the more colorful paintings he had. It was always amazing to her to see how he swirled the colors together, how he could make any color imaginable out of his paints and create something beautiful with them. "I wish I had my camera so I could bring it and capture tomorrow night on film for you."
Going willingly with her, Angelo chuckled at the gentle rebuke she had for him. In his own mind, he was a fool, but never in a sense that caused him distress. More that he knew his pursuits wouldn’t add up to much, and that his airy thoughts tended to distract him from the very real world around him. But at least the first of those ideas was being proven wrong, if his surroundings were to be believed. “You think you could find one like it by tomorrow?” he asked, stopping with her to look at a waterfront painting he’d done years and years ago. “I mean, I know you din’ want to play it like this before, but I... I got the money, Sho. An’ it ain’t like I’d jus’ be givin’ it away if that’s what worries you,” Angelo explained slowly, “More jus’ like... investin’ it, ‘til we did another show. I got my rent squared up for another month yet, Mr. Lu near did a flip when I handed it over, and the Kitten’ll pay to keep me fed.”
He looked away from the painting to eye her squarely, settling a hand at Shoshannah’s waist to draw her snug with him. “I want you to,” Angelo confided quietly, “You always say how much you like seein’ what I see, an’ I wanna turn that table, let you show this whole city what it is you do.” It was a guaranteed better use than the opium he’d likely buy if he kept the money for himself.
Once more finding herself close to him again, Shannah wrapped her arms around his middle and looked up. "Angelo..." She started, touched by the offer but unsure if she could really take it. "I still need to pay you for your painting, you're going to rent out this space again, and now you want to buy me a camera? I'm taking all your hard-earned money and that's not something I want to do..." He made such good points, though, and he sounded like he really wanted to buy her a camera, but she wasn't sure she could let him. She'd feel guilty taking so much of Angelo's money. "Are you really sure that you'd rather spend it on a camera for me when I don't know when I can pay you back instead of something for you? I want you to spend it on something for you."
“Not gonna know if I can rent this spot again ‘til after tomorrow, remember?” he asked, shaking his head at the worry Shannah spoke with. “An’ if I can’t, not gonna be room for one regret in this head a’mine. I mean, it might not make too much sense? But the scratch I got ain’t hard-earned, Sho. It’s earned, sure, but by doin’ what I love every night. That’s my blessing. Might be that my umbrella’s dyin, my shirts need mendin’, an’ four days a week I eat from a food cart or the Hawk, but I never wanted different.” Angelo’s eyes were warm as he leaned in, tuning out everything that wasn’t her, even if everything else was his life’s work. “This is somethin’ for me, Sho. I’d give up every penny I had so’s someone else could live on what they love, an’ count myself lucky for the chance. But I won’t make you do this... I jus’ think you deserve the chance to.”
"Will you let me pay you back for it?" She asked, eyes locked on his. It was getting harder and harder to keep her resolve up when he was trying so hard for her to let it down. "Along with the painting I still need to pay you for?" It would be fairly easy for her to go get another camera right now. She knew the store her father had bought her original one from, she knew that it was open for at least a few more hours, she knew that they had certain types of cameras in stock. But could she really ask Angelo for that? Even if it wasn't technically her asking so much as agreeing.
Angelo laughed musically, nodding at her question. “I never thought you’d agree ‘less I did,” he answered, “An’ I won’t be in no rush for you to do it neither. When it comes ‘round I’ll jus’ take you out for a fine meal, stash away the rest for a rainy day.” And there were plenty of those in Eidolon, no two ways about it. But so long as he could keep up his routine and maybe make a bit of extra money here and there? The rain wouldn’t bother Angelo, whether it was literal or metaphorical.
"Angelo, that doesn't count! You can't let me pay you back for the camera then turn around and use it to take me out to dinner! That's like I never paid you at all." She said, trying to do her best to look as serious as possible, but it was hard to keep the smile from forming. "It's not fair to you."
“What ain’t fair is you tellin’ me not to do things that make me happy, an’ for people who do it even more,” he was quick to rebuke with a wider smile, trying to coax out Shoshannah’s in kind. “‘Sides, it’d be one hell of a meal if I blew it all on dinner, right? How these people eat uptown, girl?” Angelo asked, quirking his brow at her, “They wipin’ their mouths on twenties or somethin’?” She was from these sorts of surroundings, so maybe it could be that prohibitively expensive, to the point that a good dinner would be a few weeks worth of rent for him.
It didn't take too long to get her smile to head towards that grin he wanted. "Dinner doesn't have to be that fancy." Her parents often went out for fancy meals of that kind, where people were completely overindulgent, but Shannah didn't want that, especially not if Angelo was already paying for her camera. She hesitated at first when the idea came to her, knowing full well that she was too clumsy to pull it off without any hinges. "Maybe I could try and...cook a meal for you? I'm really an awful cook but I know I told you I'd try and make you matzoh ball soup sometime... I could try a real meal too?"
Just the idea of her toiling away hopefully in his tiny, open kitchen was enough to make Angelo chuckle, though not at Shannah’s expense. “You seen my kitchen?” he asked rhetorically, “I make a pot a’tea in there by myself an’ I feel crowded.” Not to mention that his squat apartment wasn’t suited at all to actually sharing a meal with someone, though he supposed there’d be more room if some paintings got sold off. “But hell, let’s give it a shot, yeah?” Angelo finally agreed, “‘Course, I get to try an’ help. Alls I cook f’myself is a bit of soup now an’ then to ward off a chill, so I figure we can try a real meal together, yeah?”
Shoshannah could see herself, making a wreck of Angelo's apartment with her less than stellar cooking skills, but somehow the idea still made her smile. It'd be nice to give it a shot, even if the meal ended up a flunk, because it would be another thing they could do together. And maybe Angelo could save the potential of the dinner, because she doubted her skills at cooking had increased without any practice. Still, she nodded. "What would you want for a meal? Anything in mind? I'll find out how to cook it if I don't know." Which she probably wouldn't already know.
“I’m none too picky,” Angelo answered, smiling in consideration as he tried to think of what might hit the spot. “Somethin’ with pasta? My ma used to make it f’me an’ my old man back in the day, an’ round here they do a whole other kinda noodle. S’good too, don’ get me wrong, but it don’t hit the spot quite the same.” Would anything, though? If his appetite was for nostalgia, then no, but if it was for a new memory with Shoshannah? Then it could be crackers and broth for all he cared. “But then, you’re askin’ a man who gets popcorn for lunch,” he reminded her, winking, “So I think that a homecooked meal of any stripe’s gonna satisfy.”
She could do pasta. She'd heard it wasn't too difficult to cook and had seen her mother cook it on more than one occasion, but she'd never sat down to do it herself. But that didn't meant she couldn't try, especially if that was what Angelo wanted. Nodding as she started to think of possible entrees made with pasta, she smiled up at him again. "Then pasta it is, but just expect it to be burnt." Might as well give him a fair warning. Glancing down at her hands, she lifted her right one up and held out her index finger to him. "See the scar there? I cut it when I was 'learning' to cook with my mother when I was..sixteen, I think. So just..if there's any cutting, you might want to handle that."
“Burnt’s better than not cooked at all, which is what I’d do,” Angelo countered, “S’hard to motivate myself to put a pot on when Chinatown’s a skip away.” He caught the raised hand lightly in his own, turning Shannah’s to let him see the scar from differing angles. “Think I can handle the cutting,” he agreed with a grin, “I’m fond a’you bein’ intact an’ all, jus’ be ready to clean up if I do likewise.” He had no cooking skills to speak of whatsoever, and knives made him nervous in general. Something about the inherent potential for harm in them bothered him. “But if we’s cookin’ instead of goin’ out, you at least gotta let this fella buy a good wine. I ain’t never had one ‘fore,” Angelo insisted, “An’ I think you puckerin’ up over the taste’s a sight I gotta see.”
Shannah was still a little nervous about ruining the dinner, but if Angelo was going to handle the knives then there'd be even less potential for her clumsiness to come out. She laughed and nodded. "I don't mind cleaning up." But the expression she gave him when he spoke again was one of faux-shock. "What makes you think I can't handle the taste of a good wine?" Honestly, she probably would have ended up with a puckered face since she didn't tend to drink heavily or often like her sister, Abigail, but she felt like she could probably handle a glass of nice wine. Maybe.
‘S’pose I’ll jus’ have to be proven wrong, hm?” Angelo asked, stepping in close to loop his arms around Shoshannah’s shoulders. Really, the only evidence he was going on was her youth, and maybe the fact that she was naive even compared to Angelo himself. But as usual with him, none of that was a problem, it was completely the opposite. It was something to celebrate. “Feel like workin’ on that tonight?” he asked, “Cuz I figure that ‘less my watch is broke again, we still got time to lock up here, do some shoppin’, an’ maybe even have a glass somewheres ‘fore I gotta head to the Kitten.”
Shannah let herself settle into Angelo’s side, looping an arm of her own around his middle and letting him lead her wherever he needed to go. “I think tonight’s a good night to work on that,” She said with a smile, more than happy to leave and spend the rest of Angelo’s free-time with him. “Seems pretty perfect, actually.”