Grand Reopening

Mickey had to resort to different dress clothes since his last set got ruined at the last gallery opening. He’d probably still wear the suit, but only to church, not out at another fancy showing that came with the fancy invitation that Shoshannah had promised. He’d hoped that doing this once, that knowing he’d see friends here, would make being in this situation easier, but no such luck. He did his best to not stand as awkwardly as possible, but he was pretty sure he was failing miserably at it.

Eily was feeling slightly out of place. She wasn’t sure why--the reason wasn’t something she could grasp, nothing she could pinpoint, but there was something ‘off’ and it was with her. Not the place, not the company, just her. She had a feeling that she needed to figure it out sooner rather than later, but there wasn’t a lot she could do right in the moment. Nothing but smile the way she knew she was supposed to, and go about her night. She did smile more naturally, however(not that anyone would be able to spot the difference), when she spotted Mickey. It was with that sunshine on her features that she moved up beside him, in the guise of looking at the nearest work of art. “I like it, though it’s a little too lightly colored for my tastes.” she told him. “What do you think?”

Just that voice brought a true smile to his features and Mickey glanced at her sideways. “I was thinking it had entirely too much color, but what do I know about these sort of things anyway?” he teased lightly before actually turning to face her, taking in just the sight of her. She looked at ease in all this, perfect in a lovely dress, hair done just so. “You look fantastic,” he told her though he hadn’t actually planned to let those words slip out.

“The secret is that no one does.” Eily told him. “Seriously, it’s all opinion. People just love to talk a good game and call themselves experts while spouting ridiculous, pretentious drivel.” She smirked. “And thank you.” she added, giving a little curtsy. “You’re not looking so bad yourself.”

"So we just say whatever we want and people will think we're experts if we sound like we know about it?" Mickey asked amused smile on his face. "I can probably pull that much off." He smoothed his tie a little and nodded in appreciation of her compliment, feeling relieved his unintentional compliment was well received. It was a true assessment, but he’d just intended for something less blurted. "I apparently clean up nicely. That's what I keep hearing at least." It was nice to see her though, even if he still felt that distance from her like he did with everyone else, it was nice to be around a familiar face and that showed in his smile.

“Basically. And, just a tip? About ninety percent of the world works in exactly the same way.” Eily told him, winking. “And you should listen to these wise, wise people.” she added. “But just between you and I, I don’t mind the grease, either.” she teased.

"See it's not quite like that at the places I come from. At the shop, it's either broken or not. None of the vague inbetween. I'll have to work on it," Mickey said, feeling that it was an accruate statement, but said in a tone where he sounded more amused and teasing than weighing in on things. "See, now I know you're lying just to be nice. No one actually doesn't mind the grease and dirt. But I appreciate the sentiment." He smiled at her, again covering his truthful statements with a playful demeanor.

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right girl yet, sweetie.” Eily told him. “There’s some out there who don’t mind a rough edge to a guy.” she promised. “So how’s the rest of your evening been? No signs of imminent violence yet, I note.”

"That would be the understatement of the century," Mickey said with a smile even if he didn't feel like it was much of a joke at all. Finding the right one meant one who didn't mind the rough edge or the birth defect or the fact that he had very little to offer. He had a guess that the right one didn't exist and if she did she was a nun or something. "So far rather uneventful, which is a nice change from the rest of the day. What about you? Enjoying yourself?"

She nodded. “Yes. I like art showings. I like seeing what other people see as beautiful.” she admitted. Which was true. She liked seeing the different perspectives. Because that’s all it was, really. Or that’s what she thought art was. A very personal perspective, shown to everyone.

"Do you not agree with them?" Mickey asked curious at the way she'd worded the statement and grateful to stop talking about himself.

She paused for a long moment, then shook her head. “It’s not that I don’t agree.” she said. “It’s that I appreciate that expression of a different point of view. I like seeing what other people find beautiful, or what they make beautiful. Everyone sees beauty in different things, and you never quite know, unless someone does something like this.” she said, making a gesture towards the painting. “It’s not a matter of agreeing with someone or not. It’s truth, from a certain perspective.”

Mickey considered that looking back at the painting. It wasn't anything unseen, but he supposed that any bridge would look different in that light it'd been painted in. "Maybe it's a way of helping us notice beauty in the things we wouldn't normally find beautiful," he suggested before glancing back at her. "What do you find beautiful?" he asked, wondering if it would be something different from the norm. He had a guess it might be.

Eily opened her mouth, then shut it again, giving him a little secretive smile. “That’s for me to know, and for the ears around here not to find out.” she said. “Ask me again sometime.” she suggested, letting him know he wasn’t on that list. But if she was going to give him an honest answer--which she was inclined to do--she couldn’t give it where society could hear. “What do you find beautiful?”

"I will," Mickey promised, glad that it wasn't him she was keeping it from. He did want to know, even more now that she was keeping it a secret. "Me?" he said not actually expecting her to turn the question on him. "I'm...not sure. Not the type to be surrounded by beauty I guess, present company excluded obviously."

“Thank you.” she said. “But sure you are. And beauty isn’t just pretty things. Beauty is a lot of different levels of things. What do you appreciate in life?” she asked. “I had a brother once who would have said the most beautiful thing in the world was a well built engine.”

Mickey laughed at the engine comment. "Depends on if it was rebuilt or off the line. Though someone came in the other day with a new car and I swear that thing was made worse than the truck I drive even for all the shiny parts," he said but cut himself off with a smile. She probably couldn't care less about that sort of thing. "What I appreciate...putting something back together or building something from scrap. It's pretty amazing to take junk and piece it back together again to something that works." He shook his head a little, hair falling in his eyes before he reached up to push it away. "That's nothing beautiful though. It's just practical."

“Sean loved cars. He loved anything with an engine. He used to like to rebuild them, tune things up all the time.” Eily said, that little twinge of sadness in her eyes from mentioning her dead brother. And she’d thought she’d managed to shove her sad feelings aside for the night, apparently not. “And hey. There can be beauty in practicality. No one said they were mutually exclusive.”

Mickey saw that sadness in her eyes and his smile faded a little. "I have to agree with him there. Rebuilt my truck from almost nothing," he explained. "I think I grew up thinking they were mutually exclusive. Or have for a while at least." Since his family died. He remembered beauty from then, his mother's smile, his sister's laugh, but he didn't want to talk about those things, which meant he wasn't bringing them up. Since then, beauty had been sparse.

“Well, time to broaden those horizons, Mickey.” Eily told him with a smile. “Til then, I’ll just keep educating you with random little tidbits. And hopefully you don’t call me on not knowing what I’m talking about.” she teased lightly.

"I'll look forward to the education," Mickey said smiling. "And I wouldn't dare call you out on something like that. Well not to your face at least. I learned a few manners in there somewhere." He probably wouldn’t call her out at all, but they were teasing so he went with it.

She laughed. “Good to know.” she told him. Then she started to drift to the side, to walk to another painting. “How are your friends?” she asked. He’d had to rush off last time they’d been at the gallery to check on some, and there’d been the girl at the diner. She was under the impression that he had a lot of them.

Mickey followed after her, giving her a chance to make the entire trip to the next painting before he started, giving himself space to make the whole trip at once. It was easier to make the limp less obvious if he focused on the space, covering all of it and how many steps it would take. "They're well. Or I guess Shoshannah is since this event is going well. And Elle's good too. I'll let them know you asked." Elle would appreciate hearing that.

“Glad to hear it.” Eily said genuinely. She sort of generally wondered if Shoshannah knew Mickey was hanging out with an O’Malley. That might not go over stunningly well. But she didn’t draw attention to it either. She might be just like Eily had been--uninvolved in her family’s real business.

Mickey nodded a little. "It seems like things are at least starting to go back to normal. Provided tonight goes off without the violence from last time, I'd venture to say things are going quite well." Things weren't perfect, not with the issue he spent the afternoon dealing with at church or the random money falling from the sky this morning, but better in the view that less people were getting hurt.

“I swear, if people start piling in here looking for a fight, they’re leaving in the ambulance.” she said, her tone an odd mix of playful and truthful. She wasn’t in any kind of mood to be messed with. Not tonight, that was for damn sure.

He didn't doubt that she meant every word of it. She was more than capable, he'd seen that himself. "I would think they'd know better than to mess with us again," he said seriously, nodding slowly. There was a playful spark to his eyes but he agreed with her. He didn't want anyone to mess with any of them or mess things up for his friends again. He'd probably wind up reacting just the same as Eily.

“So, I suppose you’ve got a few people you need to touch base with tonight?” she suggested, looking back at him. She didn’t assume all of his time was hers, especially when it appeared as if the man collected girls. Just possibly in an entirely different way than someone else she could mention.

Mickey looked up and shrugged a little. "A few I should say hi to before I can get out of the tie," he agreed, feeling like she was trying suggest he go elsewhere but not wanting to bother her. "I could find you later though? If you're not busy. Or later this week." He was trying, making an effort to be around Eily since she'd made the effort last time.

She smiled at him. “Where shall we go later this week?” she asked. So long as it was free, she’d be able to make it. So she’d phrased it as a ‘where shall we go’ instead of ‘what shall we do’. If it was just a location, the park, or something, she could not embarrass herself.

Okay, she was going along with his suggestion. "What about down by the Boardwalk? Provided it's not raining or the wind's not like it is now, it's rather nice down there," Mickey tried, not one to come up with those sort of things often, but he did like the Boardwalk. The air coming off the water was refreshing it its own way and helped clear his head.

She beamed at him for a moment. “That sounds wonderful.” she said. “Perfect. When?” she asked. “I’ll meet you whenever. I have a wide open schedule at the moment.” she admitted, though she made it sound like she was giving free time to him, not that she literally had nothing to do.

"Friday? We could meet up after I get off work?" Mickey asked, realizing that the time frame sounded quite a bit like at date, but he kept his voice casual. There was no need to imply anything with his tone. He and Eily were friends, two people who enjoyed one another's company, nothing more.

“I’ll be there.” she promised. “I’ll be on the pier. See you then.” she said, knowing she needed to make the rounds at the party as well, but she was glad she’d set up seeing Mickey again. He was grounding for her right now, and she needed that.

"Already looking forward to it," Mickey said with a nod and a grin. "And if you get bored tonight, come find me. I'll be the one trying to not to be awkward." He touched her elbow lightly, just a small graze to remind her of his presence, before turning back to the rest of the gallery.

The painkillers had done their work and as promised, Dodge had gotten him up early enough to have a bath so when they arrived at the gallery Jason was feeling back to his usual self with only a little more pain in his knee than he was used to, nothing he couldn’t ignore. There was of course the whole matter of his conversations with Eris and Maddie but the show was a welcome distraction and he pushed the concerns away, wanting to his evening. Everything else could wait for another day.

As soon as they arrived, Dodge had been whisked away by one of the charity’s benefactors and was off playing society’s golden boy and he had spotted Maddy deep in conversation with someone he didn’t recognise. Not wanting to interrupt he had given her a small wave to let her know he’d arrived then wandered over to look at the paintings. They really were good, some of Maddy’s finest work and he couldn’t help but smirk at the made-up French name in the corner, a necessary conceit to get people through the door but one that amused him none the less.

Eily spotted Jason about five minutes before she went over to say hello. She felt the usual wash of a mixture of emotions at seeing him that was getting familiar to her. She wanted to see him and at the same time had an internal huffy sort of reaction. But it wasn’t so strong that it won out, as she found herself walking over. “What’s so funny?” she asked at the smirk he was sporting.

Caught slightly off guard by her approach, he was quick to cover it with a smile. “The art world in general,” he lied smoothly, having no intention of letting slip his real reason. “Specifically when it comes to high society types. Maybe I’m showing my roots a little too much but I can’t understand why people spend so much money on something so...inconsequential.” He turned from the painting and gave her his full attention, his smile growing at what he saw. “It’s good to see you Eily.”

“It’s good to see you too.” she told him, genuine, even if just a second a go she’d been feeling huffy. Eily had a barely suppressed smirk of her own at that, crossing her arms--which was still awkward due to the cast on her wrist. But she covered it as well as she could with the long sleeves on her dress, and she made sure it was hidden under her good arm. They were unconscious sorts of compensations. “And that’s not the unfathomable part.” she told him, eyes dancing a little with some kind of mirth.

“Oh?” Jason replied, leaning in towards her conspiratorially, the sparkle in her eyes drawing him in. Eily in a playful mood was something he definitely intended to encourage. “What is then?”

“It’s the fact that they all stand around talking like they know what they’re talking about, when it’s all bullshit.” she whispered to him, leaning closer as well in a conspiratorial manner. “Because they don’t know what they’re talking about, and they only think art is good if someone tells them it’s supposed to be.”

That got a laugh out of him, one that he quickly tried to smother when a middle-aged couple near-by turned round to glare disapprovingly. “Such language Miss O’Malley,” he replied after getting hold of himself, though the grin showed no signs of shifting. The fact that he knew she was capable of far worse language than that was conveniently ignored for the moment. “Not that it makes your assessment any less true of course but tell me, what do you think of Monsieur Lefevre’s work?” He was genuinely curious to find out her opinion and at the same time he found himself enjoying stepping into a familiar role with the blonde, one that stirred up all too pleasant memories.

She looked around for a moment, eyes going wider. “I thought it was a woman? And you know, if you’re going to be blowing my cover on my language, Mr. Finn, then I’m going to have to go find someone else’s ear to whisper into...” she said, trailing off as she made as if she were leaving.

Gently catching hold of her uninjured wrist, Jason tried to look contrite. “Please don’t leave, I won’t find anyone else nearly as interesting to talk to you as you.” His smile slowly slid back into place as he added quietly. “And I sincerely doubt your cover is blown, the only people near enough to have heard what I said are the couple of there and they’ve been steadfastly ignoring me since my unforgivable lack in social grace by laughing in public. Your secret is safe.”

She of course had expected him to stop her--would have been wildly disappointed if he hadn’t. Still, she effected an entirely put on air of reluctance, then grudging acceptance. The only tell that gave her away was that amused look in her eyes. “I suppose I will give you another chance then.” she told him, smile returning to her lips. “Just be a good boy.” she added. Though she added that with a tone that suggested that she knew he was nothing of the kind. “As for what I think of the artwork, it’s nice. Though if you can keep a secret...” she said, stepping closer. She pushed up on her toes to murmur into his ear. “The only artwork that ever adorned the walls of the O’Malley household was one of Jesus and one on velvet that was a picture of dogs playing poker.” she told him, knowing that was going to be amusing. Especially since she was meant to be high society, and yeah--her roots weren’t there just like his weren’t. They were both playing a role on that score, something she was coming to fully understand more and more.

“Stranger things have happened,” he quipped back with a grin, glad she was staying. He raised an eyebrow at her getting so close to him and it was quickly followed by a chuckle at what she said, albeit more subdued than the last time. “It beats whitewashed walls and tacked up pictures of girls,” he whispered back. But then he had grown up with a bunch of boys living in various states of run-down buildings so such things were to be expected. “So the collection’s by a woman you say?” he asked, moving away from her slightly as a small group of gallery patrons appeared around the corner. He had no objections to the closeness but he knew Eily had appearances to uphold. “When I saw the name at the office I thought it was a man. I suppose that’s French names for you.”

“Wouldn’t that depend on the girls?” Eily teased, though it was low enough that it wouldn’t carry. Then she dutifully put her eyes back on the painting in front of them, her entire posture changing, so she appeared nothing but high class and appropriate for the setting. “I’d heard it was a woman, but it was second hand, too. Maybe it’s a mystery.” she said, smiling at him. “Either way, looks good to me.”

Wondering who Eily’s source might be and whether or not they knew the truth about Maddy gave Jason pause for a moment but he dismissed it, his friend had enough sense not to tell people unnecessary information so maybe it was coincidence. That or the name she had chosen had enough give to be interpreted either way. “I’ll have to tell my friend who works here, she helped put the exhibition together so she’ll be delighted the works been well received,” he said, making an effort to stand a little straighter. As ‘new money’ he wasn’t as bound by high society’s standards as Eily but he made an effort.

“You do that, brighten someone’s day.” Eily said. She gazed at the painting, and wondered how much they cost. More than she had, that was for damn sure. And that hit her oddly in the moment, standing there with Jason. He had money. And she was broke. In fact, this was likely to be her last society event, unless there was some drastic change in her circumstances.

“I will,” he replied, turning to smile at her. It was only because he was looking at her that he thought he saw something flash across her eyes, so fleeting he couldn’t have said what it was but something none the less. “Are you alright Eily?” he asked quietly, aware of other people nearby and not wanting to draw unwanted attention.

She didn’t answer right away, even if it looked like she was going to. It was right there, on the tip of her tongue, that ‘yes, of course I’m fine!’ blowoff answer that she should give. In the end, she didn’t. She didn’t have many people in her life anymore. Hell, she didn’t even know where her brother was these days. After looking around, making sure it didn’t seem like she’d be overheard, she answered, voice even quieter than his had been. “This might be the last you see of me.”

At first Jason thought he’d misheard her but her serious expression told him otherwise and the good humor went out of his face to be quickly replaced with concern. “Are you in trouble?” he asked, making sure to keep his voice low even though his mind was starting to race. It was common knowledge what had happened to the rest of the O’Malley family and the thought that someone might be looking to finish the job was the first thing that came to mind.

“In a manner of speaking.” she said. “Let’s just say anything I had went into the ground with all the expenses for funerals.” she admitted, stepping closer and she kept looking around, paranoid she’d be overheard but no one was nearby. “I’m tapped out. Entirely. And I hate even saying that out loud. But I was just thinking that this event here? Is probably my last.”

The relief he felt at knowing Eily wasn’t in danger was instant and he relaxed though not entirely. In a city like theirs, money was everything and he knew first hand about what it was like to live with nothing and his first instinct was to offer to help. He stopped himself before he could say something though, he was only too aware of what a proud woman Eily was and it didn’t want to offend her by offering charity, even if that wasn’t how he meant it to be received. “What are you going to do?” he asked, finding it hard to imagine her doing something other than the society lady she had worked so hard to achieve.

“I don’t know.” Eily said, staring at the painting again, like it was utterly fascinating. “Just...if you don’t happen to see me again...” she trailed off. “That’s what’s wrong. You asked, I’ve told you.” She gave a half smirk, looking to him again. “I’d tell you not to miss me too much, but I’m sure you’ve got tons of women lining up that could take my place.”

Jason wanted to press more but before he had the chance the wall was back up and he knew he’d lost his chance. “Not seeing you again would be a tragedy Eily,” he said, lifting her hand to place a chaste kiss across the knuckles. It may have been a line he’d used before but the sentiment was genuine. “And other women or not you’d be missed. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

She smiled at him. There was a sad undercurrent to it still, a genuine feeling of loss that she didn’t believe she’d see him again, or at the very least not with anything like regularity. “You say that to all the girls.” she accused, but it held no venom. Something more like the knowledge of truth. “And you remember that. That you knew a unique woman once.” Maybe you’ll think about me every time that knee aches. went through her mind, but she didn’t share it at all. She’d never say something like that out loud.

“The first part perhaps but that at doesn’t make it any less true,” he replied, seeing no point in denying it to someone who knew better. “The second though…” He didn’t finish the sentence but merely smiled. “There’s no forgetting you Eily, even if for some reason I wanted to.” And he knew because he had tried; after being shot he had tried to put her out of his mind but had never managed it, his memories of her as stubborn as the woman herself.

“That’s my boy.” Eily said, nodding in approval. She let her gaze linger on his for a long moment, and she looked like she had more to say, but she didn’t voice anything. “I’m sure we both have other affairs to tend to this evening. I’m happy I got to see you. You have a good night, Jason.” she told him. And it sounded in her tone much more like ‘goodbye’ than anything else. And a truly regretful one at that. It didn’t occur to her that he might help her. That he’d even consider something of the kind.

The tone wasn’t lost on Jason and he smile faltered and while he managed to get it back it held a sad quality. “You too Eily, it was really good to see you,” he replied, wishing their conversation had lasted longer. “If you ever need anything, you can find me at the Echo.” His hand lingered around hers, not wanting to be the one to break contact and he gave it a gentle squeeze, hoping she took his offer seriously.

She paused, just for a moment, then moved to give him a tender kiss on the cheek. She of course made sure it wasn’t witnessed, but she managed. She was good at doing things that weren’t witnessed, something she’d learned from her family, not from society. And that was what she was going to need to fall back on, that scrappy nature of the O’Malleys. She’d have to see how well it served her for now. She didn’t verbally acknowledge Jason’s offer, thinking it was just something you said. Then she stepped back, and started away--though she did look back at him over her shoulder before she was swallowed up by the crowd.

While Elle loved seeing the artwork, her primary agenda was keeping an eye on Shannah. She wanted to share in her friend’s happiness at seeing the gallery operating as it should and, if it was needed, she was there for support. Quietly reassuring and encouraging. But from the sight of the place, she never would have thought that what had happened had taken place if she hadn’t witnessed it herself. Everything was back in its place, beautiful and inviting once again. A testament to hard work and not being overcome. Elle liked that idea almost as much as the paintings.

Catching sight of Mickey, she smiled to herself. Elle went over and stood beside him, giving him a sideways glance. “You’re kind of becoming a fixture at these things.”

“Not my own choice I don’t think. I was invited,” Mickey said smiling down at Elle. He’d left Eily, looking for Shoshannah, who’d been engrossed in another conversation and wound up giving her space and going back to watching Eily talk to another man, someone who she seemed rather keen on. He’d spent the past two or three minutes convincing himself that he had no reason to be jealous whatsoever and Elle’s approach was a welcome distraction. “How are you tonight?”

“Oh, I see, you were invited. Well, that means you absolutely have to attend,” she replied, gently poking a bit of fun at him. Elle was sure it was a case of who might have been at the event rather than making an appearance out of politeness so as far as she was concerned there was little point in pretending otherwise. “Glad,” she answered. “Glad that this is happening. What about you? Anything interesting going on?”

Mickey smiled and gave Elle a little bit of a look as she teased him. “It came with a fancy invitation,” he explained, but he knew she saw through him. He probably would have come just to see Shoshannah. “Well the church practically started a mob to run out our priest after the new in the paper dropped this morning, there was money falling from the sky in the Sprawl as well. And I think I just asked Eily out.” All in all, quite the day.

There were a few things there to deal with. Elle decided to pick them apart and go through them one at a time. “...The priest wasn’t hurt or anything, was he?” It was strange to think of church going people turning like that. Elle could see why, given the reason, but it still struck her as strange. “Money falling from the sky,” she repeated, the bemused expression on her face deepening. And stranger things still. It made Mickey actually asking Eily out kind of normal. “What did she say?” Elle wanted to assume yes, but thought it better to ask just in case.

“No he was fine. I was there. I wound up playing crowd control until the Dioscese showed up, which was far faster than I expected. Apparently it takes the right kind of fire lit under them to get them to move,” Mickey explained. “And she said yes, but I’m guessing it’s not like that. It’s just the Boardwalk after work on Friday. Nothing fancy.” He was certain it wasn’t a date, Eily would have called him out something like that. No, the guy she’d been talking to later, the suave looking one, that more her type, even with the cane. “We’re just spending time together. Nothing to make a deal about.”
“Are you alright?” Elle asked tentatively, both concerned that he may have been hurt while taming the crowd and that the whole incident with the priest might have upset him. It probably wasn’t easy, learning that someone in such a position was anything less than trustworthy. “Hmm. It might not be anything to make a big deal about but it’s still something, isn’t it?” She gave Mickey a little smile, trying to do the exact opposite of making a thing out of it.

“Yeah, M’alright,” Mickey promised. He hadn’t had to fight anyone and other than his trust and his faith being tested he’d made it out of the whole church issue with nothing more than disappointment. He had to give Janey credit for that. She was a better person than he hoped to be and a good example during the crisis. Mickey shook his head about Eily, pushing the loose curls out of his face when he was done. “It’s something, but nothing worth getting excited about. She’s not...she’s from a different place than I am.” Even with what was going on with her family, she wasn’t ever going to be on a level with Mickey. “How are you?”

“As long as you are,” Elle said and reached out to give his hand a quick squeeze. Frowning thoughtfully, Elle gave a little shrug. “I don’t think that really matters. I mean, you’re not so different.” When you really got down to it, people weren’t so unalike and the gaps between them seemed less and less important. Or at least from Elle’s perspective. “I’m fine. A little boring compared to you, even. The Round, the Wayward. You know.”

“Sometimes I think that we aren’t, others I’m reminded that I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of being more than I am now.” And for once in his life, Mickey wasn’t content with where he was. Before he’d been fine with not starving. With having a roof over his head and a job. Now he wished he had something to give her, something to impress her. Shaking his head he smiled at Eily. “How’s Wayard? You haven’t mentioned it lately.”

“Mickey, you don’t have to be any more than you are now. And certainly not for someone else.” Though Elle knew it was kind of easy for her to say that. After all, she hadn’t had the same kind of worries and hardships he’d had. She wanted to believe that two people could transcend all those things if they had feelings for one another. That only feelings mattered. “Oh, the Wayward’s good. Amelie mentioned that there may be new volunteers.” One volunteer, specifically. “There may be a few interesting new ideas.”

“I could always be better, Elle. That’s not a bad thing to want.” Mickey made a small face, looking at her curiously. “I don’t know who Amelie is, but new volunteers is good. Any idea who? Think they’ll be a help or like when the old ladies come and just make more work?”

“It’s not a bad thing to want if it’s because you want to aim to be better, not because you don’t think you’re good enough.” Elle looked down for a second then back up at him. “Amelie runs it. She’s wonderful.” Nodding, she continued with, “No, no more old ladies. It’s a guy, he’s around our age. So he should be a help. If only because he’ll be much more able to move boxes and heaving bags of supplies more than me and the little old ladies.”

Mickey was going to protest about something but caught on to something else instead. “A guy?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at that. “Our age and strapping enough to carry things. Are you replacing me now?”

Knowing she was starting to go pink, Elle looked up towards the ceiling then shook her head. “Of course I’m not replacing you. You’ll always be the first person I call for heavy lifting.” Smiling a little to make up for the brief blush, she shrugged. “If you want to come and help too, I’m sure you’d be more than welcome.”

“You’re blushing Elle,” Mickey pointed out with a slight smile. “Who is this guy who’s not only replacing me, but making you blush? And when am I meeting him?” Mickey wasn’t going to not protect his best friend, no matter who the guy was.

“You know how you said that you and Eily was nothing to make a big deal about? Well, this is the same thing. And there’s even less to make a deal out of. He’s a friend, that’s all.” The blushing was purely a by product of the conversation. It wasn’t specific to the person being discussed. Just... one of those things. Both Becky and Mickey had read far too much into it. To that effect, Elle gave a casual shrug. “Whenever you want to, I suppose.”

“Right. Only, I’ve told you about Eily and such and you’ve kept this whole thing to yourself. If it was nothing you would have mentioned it.” Mickey gave Elle and look then shook his head. “Come on, tell me about him. I’m curious. I won’t hurt him. Not right away at least.”

“Because there isn’t much to tell you. He came into the bar and we talked. Apparently he might be volunteering at the Wayward. That’s all.” Elle gave him another shrug. If there had been anything worth mentioning, she might well have done already. Gaze going down towards the floor, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Another time, maybe? I’ve kind of already done this once today. Besides, you should be expending your energy charming other girls and not being curious about me.” The comment was finished with a little smile.

“And you think he’s cute,” Mickey concluded, giving her a smile before letting it drop. “If you want me to meet him, I will.” And size the guy up if he was getting close to Elle. “Yes so many women so far out of my league to charm right?” Mickey shook his head a little then tried to spot Shoshannah again. “I’m gonna see if I can catch up with the lady of the hour. Catch up with you later okay? I can walk you home.”

“Just as long as you’re nice,” Elle warned playfully, bypassing his earlier comment completely. There wasn’t anything she wanted to say on that subject. As he put himself down yet again, she just gave Mickey a look. “Make sure you tell her how well she’s done with tonight. And, also very important, relax and have a good time.”

“I’m always nice,” Mickey pointed out then shook his head. “Relax have a good time. I’ll try.” He gave Elle’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Same goes for you. Find me before you head out.” He took a stop away, smiling at her once more before leaving her side in search of Shoshanah.

Mickey left Elle’s side with one person in mind and he found himself drifting through the crowd trying to spot her. She was busy of course, but he’d expected her to be. She was the woman of the hour with the artist for the gallery being unknown and French. For a long moment he just watched her chat with other people until she finally had a spare moment and Mickey moved closer. “You seem to be at perfect ease,” he commented with the bright smile that Shannah always brought out in him.

Shoshannah was definitely between conversations most of the night but she loved this, she lived for this kind of thing, and it was so refreshing to have everyone back at the gallery again. To have the gallery back to its full potential. When she heard Mickey, she turned to see him close and smiled. "Really? That's a good thing, then. It's so good you're here. I'm glad you made it. Do you like the show so far?"

“Of course,” Mickey promised moving closer again. “You were made for this.” She really was. He felt awkward and out of place, but this place was right where Shoshannah belonged. “I’ve been enjoying myself,” he told her though very little of it had to do with the art. That part wasn’t necessary to point out.

"Did you want something to drink or eat?" She asked, looking back over at Mickey. "I could get you something. Oh! Actually, I want to show you something." She slipped her arm through his and led him slowly through the crowd. "There's this amazing painting over here you just have to see."

Mickey was a little surprised at how easily she just held on to him and force himself to concentrate on every step to keep from her holding on to him being terribly awkward with the limp. He knew she understood, but with her this close it made it harder to ignore. “What’s this painting I need to see?”

"You'll know when you see it. If I told you about it now, it'd take away the magic of seeing it for the first time." She did walk slower than normal just so that she kept a pace he was steady with. "But it's one of my favorites of the night." She led him right to a gorgeous landscape, something overlooking water and a small town right on the river, as the sun rose up from the horizon. Pastel blues, yellows, and oranges colored the sky and melted together to create this wonderful feeling of calm in her. "Isn't it lovely?"

He’d tried for a while, tried to understand the art that she loved so much but rarely it meant much of anything to Mickey. The painting she stopped them in front of though, that he could understand. It wasn’t so much the colors or the landscape itself it was how very different it felt from everything he was used to. How different from the city, the garage and gloomy weather that never lifted. Even the park on a sunny day couldn’t compete. “Wow. It is,” he wished he didn’t sound so surprised but he couldn’t help it. It was surprisingly beautiful.

Shoshannah watched Mickey study the painting and smiled, an idea brewing. She'd pay for the painting and give it to Mickey as a gift, another thank you for helping set the gallery back on its way. "It's really nice, isn't it? Calming and inspiring...It's definitely my favorite one here tonight."

“Quite nice. It’s so different,” Mickey told her, glancing at her and smiling some. “Not like here you know?” Nothing in the city looked like that painting did. “I really do like it. I was having trouble understanding the others, but this one makes more sense.”

"You're right, it is so different than here. I remember seeing the sunrise once when I was younger and it was nothing like this. It was gorgeous in its own way, but this is just..wouldn't it be incredible to see that first hand?" She couldn't stop smiling as she watched the painting, already knowing she was going to put a signature black dot beside the title to show that it was bought.

Mickey shook his head. “No the sunrise in this city is nothing like this. It’s...more like the night fighting off the day unlike this where it seems welcomed.” He really didn’t understand where the words he was saying were coming from but the couldn’t help it. The words were just there. “It would be. Sadly I think I’m as tied to this city as anyone else. I worry I’d miss it if I ever left.”

Shoshannah was happily listening to him, smiling more as he spoke. “I agree. It looks very welcome here. If only it could be as welcome always.” Shoshannah looked back over at him for a moment then nodded. “I’d miss it too. This place is my home. It wouldn’t feel right to be anywhere else.” Looking at him, she tilted her head. “Did you want to see more?”

Mickey glanced at her, spotting the smile and unable to contain one that matched hers. There was something about her, something about that smile was really truly infectious. “Sure. Whatever you want to show me.”

"There's another really wonderful piece...It doesn't look like anywhere in the city I've ever been." Maybe Mickey would like the majesty of the next piece too. She brought him in front of a gorgeous, golden and green field dotted with flowers here and there, draped overhead by a clear blue sky. "How do you like this one?"

Mickey moved with her, slowing once he was in front of the next painting. It wasn’t the same as the first, the way it just made sense, but he did like it. “It’s peaceful. And nothing like home,” he agreed with a nod, glancing down at Shoshannah to see what she’d say.

"It makes me wish I was there. I would love to just lay down in that field and look up at the sky, watch the clouds and judge their shapes. Anything like that sounds so peaceful...I can't imagine being there would be any differently." Shoshannah said with a smile as she studied the painting again.

Mickey watched her, focusing on her instead of the painting. He honestly couldn’t think of the last time he’d let himself do something that relaxed, laying back and watching the sky. Maybe from when he was younger, when he was just a kid who used to watch the sky like that. Probably when Rose was still alive. That would have been something she would have enjoyed. “I bet you’d pick out all the best shapes in the clouds.”

Shoshannah looked back at him and smiled more. "We should try it sometime. Look for a good, temperate day and go out and just..cloud-watch." She'd make sure there was food, she'd make a real day out of it. And it could be nice to just be relaxed near someone she enjoyed the company of.

Mickey didn’t know what to say to that. It seemed like such a simple offer from her, but it felt like so much more. “Sure. If we ever have a nice day we’ll have to give it a try.” He might be terrible at it but it would be time with Shoshannah which wasn’t something he was going to pass up.

"We'll scout the sky and find a day for it," She said with another smile. Then she reached up and slipped her arm through his again, nudging him a little. "There's lots more to see. Ready to keep moving?"

Her touch felt warm on his arm and Mickey couldn’t help but starting to move as she nudged him. “You don’t have to show me around,” he told her. “I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

"Mickey, I want to show you around." He'd remade this place for her, helped her get it back to the thriving space it was now. If anyone should get her attention, it would be Mickey. "Is that ok?"

“No, it’s more than okay,” Mickey told her. “I just don’t want to keep your from something else.” He certainly didn’t feel like he’d earned the attention.

"There's nothing else, Mickey," She assured, smiling as she led him towards another one. Should could do this all day, could take him around the gallery and talk to him for hours about the paintings. And right now, that was really all she wanted to do.

Emily hadn’t been present for the last, disastrous gallery show at the Sea and Sky and she hadn’t been dissuaded from attending the new show that evening. Christiane was a wonderful painter. The colors were rich, the scenes captivating. Emily was even considering purchasing one. “Aren’t they lovely?” she asked the dark haired woman beside her, a smile on her face. “I wonder if the artist is here. I heard that she was very hush hush.”

Marian was there, hardly paying attention to the artwork but watching the crowd of people. She knew their stories now. Their stories were locked in her purse even now. It was unsettling to be around them, to see them mingle like nothing mattered. She was here for Elle and and Shoshannah, maybe to glean something for the paper. Now that she was here though, it felt weird. Completely weird to know their stories and them not know it. When the girl next to her spoke to her she practically jumped out of her skin, glasses sloshing a little. “Oh. The paintings, yes. Quite.” She made a little face looking at the painting again. “She? I thought it was a he.”

“Christiane is the french form of Christine,” Emily said amiably. She wasn’t surprised by the mix-up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you out of your thoughts.” She offered her a little bit of a smile as she studied her profile. The woman was very pretty, around her age with dark features. She had a photgrapher’s eye after all.

“Oh,” Marian made a little face at her own mix up. That was embarrassing and sealed the deal for her not belonging here. “I’m afraid I don’t know French,” she admitted with a small smile. “And no worries. I was just...daydreaming.” That wasn’t the truth at all but believable most of the time. Young women daydreamed didn’t they? They certainly didn’t carry around the city’s biggest secrets in their purses.

Emily waved it off, seeing that the woman was embarrassed. “It all sorta sounds the same when it comes to certain names. I had a pen pal in Paris whose name was Christiane so after you write it a hundred times, you tend to remember.” She shrugged. “It’s a very soothing atmosphere to daydream.”

“A pen pal in Paris?” Marian asked, feeling, yet again, completely out of her league. It had her thoughts drifting towards a certain someone but she managed to reign them in again. “That it is I think,” she agreed, nodding even if she had no idea about daydreaming.

“Mhmm. Christiane LeBourge. She wanted to be a chemist.” It had been awhile since she thought of her childhood pen pal and wondered if she’d gotten out of Paris safely before the war started. “Pardon my rudeness. I haven’t even asked your name.”

“A chemist?” Marian asked not sure what to make of that either. The woman had a pen pal, in Paris, who wanted to be a chemist. It seemed too specific to be made up but maybe not. “Marian, Marian Grady. And you are?”

“A pleasure, Marian.” Emily stuck out her hand. “Emily Walker.” Sometimes her name elicited various responses. Nervousness because of her family name (they were rather prevalent in the city) or disturbing awe because of her past profession. She didn’t necessarily expect either of those from Marian.

The name actually did stand out for Marian but she only let the surprised slip for a moment. It was just from society pages from flipping through them and writing out their copy for the too lazy reporters who refused to do their own work. “Pleasure’s mine,” she said with a nod, taking the other woman’s hand. “What brings you out tonight?” Other than the fact that she actually had the money to buy whatever she wanted Marian guessed.

“A great love for Eidolon’s art community,” Emily grinned and looked back at the painting they were in front of. “We really do have a plethora of great minds and creativity here. I’m always happy to come out and support them. Yourself?”

That was far more creative than whatever Marian had to say. “I know the girl who runs the place. I’m here to support her. As well as the rest of course, but more for my friends.” Marian managed a smile, looking for Shoshannah but she didn’t see her readily.

Emily noticed her eyes move away, searching the crowd and she wondered if she’d done or said something wrong. She couldn’t possibly think of what she could’ve done. “I’m keeping you from something, aren’t I?” she asked apologetically. Perhaps it had been the Parisian comment. Maybe a loved one was away overseas. Or perhaps she was waiting for someone and Emily was distracting her.

“Oh, no, not at all,” Marian apologized. “I was going to point out my friend, but I don’t see her.” She did her best to smile, to seem welcoming. “I have little to offer in a conversation about art, but Shoshannah is person you’d want to speak with. She’d probably be more familiar with things like Parisian pen pals as well. I’m afraid all I know of is what little my brother has told me after the war.”

So she had offended her. It seemed like such an insignificant detail. A mention of a pen pal who shared a name with the artist. Emily wasn’t sure what to say to it. It sounded like she was sorry, but Emily wasn’t sure if Marian was trying to insult her or not. “I’m sorry for interrupting your contemplations then,” Emily apologized with a contrite smile. “Have a good night Miss Grady.”

“I..” Marian started, not sure what she did this time. Maybe she was too caught up in her own head. “If you’ve got something else to get to of course. I didn’t mean to keep you.”

Emily felt confused by Marian’s apology and it showed on her face before she realized it and the blonde shook it off and her smile returned. “That’s quite alright. I hope to see you again.”

Emily was left feeling quite confused after her encounter with Marian and the insecurity she felt left her unusually quiet as she continued around the gallery. She saw Dodge and for a moment she thought she should go and apologize for their conversation but he was engaged with someone else so she let it be. So absorbed she was in her thoughts she didn’t look where she was going and bumped into someone. “Sorry!,” she apologized, champagne in her hand sloshing over the rim of her glass. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Elle too was lost in her own world, fixated on a particular painting. Feeling the knock, she shook her head in surprise and looked over to the woman. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Elle told her with a warm smile. A little champagne had splashed onto her shoe but as they were patent it wasn’t exactly going to cause any damage.

Emily gave an embarrassed smile. “I didn’t expect it to be so crowded in here but it’s good to see.”

“I guess there really must be an appreciation for the arts in the city.” She would never have said it aloud but Elle had been concerned about there not being a great turnout at the event, given how the last showing had been brought to an abrupt and violent end. It was good to see - both for Shoshannah and for the city itself. It was a sign that it could move on from its bleaker moments, that better things would win out. “Are you enjoying the evening?”

“The city loves pretty things and these are quite nice,” she smiled and nodded. “I am. I love art. Are you here for the showing or to support?” It seemed that there might be many of the owner’s friends here.

“A little bit of both,” Elle answered. “Shoshannah, the owner, she’s a very good friend of mine but I think I’d be here even if she wasn’t. Coming to the showings, it’s one of my favourite things.” Elle was an art lover herself. Or a lover of pretty things in general, really.

Emily nodded, making note of Shoshannah’s name and wondering if maybe this might be a good avenue to show her photographs. It was always a consideration. Even if she didn’t need the money by any means, a night of art was always enjoyable. “Do you know if the artist is here tonight? I was hoping to meet her and compliment her on the work. It’s very good.” Even if no one could seem to decide on said artist’s gender.

“I’ve no idea,” Elle told her honestly. “It’s all very mysterious. In theory, it could be anyone here tonight.” Shoshannah had offered her the chance to be in on the secret, if the artist had been okay with it, but Elle had declined. It added to the atmosphere for her, and they’d probably go public eventually. Maybe once they saw how popular their work seemed to be.

“Mystery always makes things more exciting,” she agreed. “Makes things more... alluring I think. I hope they do another show.” She was certainly considering buying one of the pieces but couldn’t decide which one she liked the most.

Alluring was the right word. “It’s like the art itself - everyone who looks at it will see something different. We don’t really know the artist’s intention so we can impose our own thoughts, our own meanings on it. By not knowing who the artist is we can make them whoever we want them to be, too. It’s clever.” For a moment Elle stared at the painting again, as if some clue about the artist’s identity could be found within the brush strokes. “Considering how tonight is going, I’m sure they will. I think Shoshannah would be keen to showcase them again.”

Emily studied the painting as well, considering what the woman said. The scenery didn’t look familiar but it did at the same time. Like some place you would find anywhere but sure you recognized the place as something special to you. “I almost hope then that they don’t come forward,” she mused, studying the clouds on the painting. “It could ruin the fantasy.”

That brought a little smile to Elle’s lips. She could relate to not wanting imaginings to be spoiled. “It’s like if you hear someone on the radio then see a picture of them and they’re nothing like you imagined.” She glanced over to her companion then back to the artwork. “What do you think they’d be like? The artist, I mean.”

She nodded in agreement and considered the question. “I imagine she’s very dedicated. A private person, shy maybe. Perhaps has social anxieties since usually artists attend their showings or at least make themselves known and I don’t think there’s even a representative here. They certainly love color. The vibrancy... It’s like a photograph but colored. You?”

Elle found a lot of the assessment echoed her own thoughts. “Perhaps they want to be judged on the merit of their art and not anything else,” she mused. “I suppose that goes hand in hand with the idea of not wanting to ruin the fantasy. Opinions can be fickle if people don’t think the face fits. Or they could just be worried that perhaps people won’t think much of something they’ve put so much work into.” Though that fear was surely going to be quelled by the end of the night.

“People can be cruel,” Emily agreed. “Anonymity brings a certain degree of safety. You can separate yourself from it.” How she wished she had the luxury. Maybe eventually she would but until then, she could only hope to pass by unnoticed. “I’d only worry that when the artist does come out, it’s not so far from people’s expectations that they can no longer appreciate the talent. But people are shallow. We can only hope for the best.” Which maybe was more prevalent in the walks of society she took part in, and not so much other people.

“I hope for people to be surprising. Maybe they’ll be able to find something new in the work if the artist isn’t what they think. Or develop a new appreciation for it, at least.” Elle liked to think that’s how people could be, how they generally were. Despite any evidence to the contrary. “Speaking of anonymity, I should be apologising to you for not introducing myself. I’m Elle,” she said, offering the woman a friendly smile.

“Emily,” she grinned. “I find I’m having one of those days myself. Just wandering around being anonymous. It’s nice sometimes.”

The first thing Elle wondered was if there was some implication there that Emily was used to wandering around being anything but anonymous. Not wanting to spoil the woman’s moment, Elle didn’t ask if that was the case. She could understand wanting to be someone else for a night. “There’s something to be said for being able to create and portray yourself as you want,” she agreed with a thoughtful nod. “Everything becomes a discovery.”