AU: Exhibited

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Connections were imperative. They were life lines in the world. And in this particular world, Lucy only thanked her time at Hammel for one connection; her relationship with Dominique Chevalier.

Meeting in high school was… A nothing sort of moment, really. They were friends. They’d been friends ever since then. But he just happened to have a parent who owned a defined art distribution company. And when the time came, her friend took hold of the reigns to this company. And he had a friend in the ink manipulating artist.

Dominique by no means worked with the concept of preferential treatment. What she earned, she did so on her own merits. He was a foot in the door. And she very much cared about him for his help.

Over the years, she’d grown to call two gallery spaces in particular her home; one in Paris and one in New York. Dominique rarely left France unless he absolutely had to oversee things in America, and this was no exception. She reassured him that she could handle the instillation of certain artwork. She could handle the deadline. And that she would be fine. And he believed her.

Besides, in this particular event, she had Ivy.

Dominique’s idea encompassed the tatted up tattooing meta doing just that at some point later in the night; finding someone to tattoo. It was at random. It was supposed to be. For this, Ivy had to be there. She pressed herself onto the situation, and Lucy let her. Given the uptight people who often came to these kinds of things, she felt like the leopard print woman would be something of a life line within herself.

The walls, for now, were clad with various still pieces. Pieces that occasionally seemed to have life breathed into them. But for that, proximity was imperative. The point was for people to question how before they really learned why.

It was at some point in the night where Lucy had been dragged into another relatively boring conversation with relatively boring people who tried to hassle her into explaining why the paintings moved. The blunt ink manipulator flashed a stint of charm, managing to work her way out of the conversation and keep relatively boring people guessing. Immediately after she left the group, Ivy had edged another glass into her hand. A third drink. Because she looked like she needed it, and thank god there was alcohol at this event.

Tapping her fingers against the glass, Lucy looked around the room. Just as she predicted; the crowd was good – it always was – but the people were so… Expected. They all had money. They were all willing to spend, but they didn’t really care what it was on.

But there was a woman. A woman by a painted galaxy.

She stared for a moment. A good, long moment before she glanced down at the dark liquid in her glass. Of course it had to be something hard. The older tattoo artist was looking out for her after all.

Taking a quick drink, Lucy ran her free hand along her heavily tattooed arm, quelling their scrutinising faces before she made her way over. Because look at her. Someone probably dragged her here, and really, moving inked up faces on her own arms weren’t going to make her feel any better. Neither would the grin on her face, Lucy guessed, but no way in hell was she hiding that one.

So she settled in beside her. The distance, notable. Just as people did at these events.

“You like?” The Australian asked her, her eyebrows raised as she glanced at her face before dragging her attention to the artwork in question. “Any idea what it’s supposed to mean?”

The grand vortexes started to spin – slow enough that the movement would be missed if close attention wasn’t paid.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Penelope had no idea why she was here.

Well, that was a lie. She knew exactly why she was there. Michael needed to find some artwork for a client he was working with, and for an interior designer, the older Blaise had no idea what to look for in a painting. So there Penelope was, in search of artwork that cost more than she made in a month just so it could hang on some stranger's wall. The psychometrist let out a quiet sigh.

This just...wasn't her scene. Her dark eyes glanced around the gallery, noticing that it seemed to be just as much of a social event than it did an actual place to view pieces of artwork. These people likely made more in a month than she did in a year; they could care less about what hung on their walls, as long as it was expensive. The fact of which made Penelope purse her lips as she carefully made her way past various people, instead focusing on the what she was there for while dismissing everything else.

Kocher hadn't pulled the psychometrist out of her reserved ways, nor did Cambridge, and nor would this.

Penelope did, however, find something that caught her eye. A galaxy. It captured the Brit's attention as she walked over towards the painting. Honestly, she hadn't known how long she had been staring at it when she was approached. Even then, she didn't tear her gaze from it.

“Yes,” she stated after a time, taking in a slow breath. She hadn't particularly wanted to be talked to, at least this woman hadn't sounded nearly as snobbish as the rest of the crowd. “A galaxy can represent a variety of meanings.” Penelope added.

She finally turned her gaze to the woman, and Penelope couldn't help but to raise her eyebrows. Penelope knew she didn't belong here, but this woman. She certainly didn't. Penny quickly glanced down her form; what was a woman who clearly had father issues and a motorbike out back doing in a top New York art gallery?

When Penelope realized she had been staring, she pressed her lips into a hard line, forcing herself to look back at the painting.

As the paint started to shift, it had barely caught the Brit's eye, but the movement, even if just slight, was enough to make her eyebrows furrow together briefly. She continued to look at it, eyes focused on a single spot as she discovered that, yes, it was moving.

Again, she looked over at the woman, confusion evident in her features. It hadn't been moving before, so why was it now?

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Her answer was typical, but honest. Guarded, but raw. She didn't really offer anything. But she was glancing at the Australian with clear enough curiosity. And she was British. The accent, clear. Lucy allowed her gaze to wander over her briefly. Hot, too. Hot. British. And clearly as uptight as humanly possible.

It was clear from her expression alone that she wanted nothing to do with the ink manipulator. And instantly, that fact was what drove Lucy; she was in her exhibit. Her house. Her home. And clearly, she had no idea.

"Alright." Lucy replied, glancing down at the glass in her hand with a knowing grin as she idly wrapped the other around herself. Her fingers played on the words tattooed across her ribs - hidden by the clothes she wore, but still clearly evident in her mind. The ink wanted to move. To show itself off. But she didn't allow it. "What's it mean to you?" Lucy asked her openly, eyebrows raised as she too watched the way her ability shifted the paint on the canvas.

But she didn't need to look at it. She knew it. So she turned her attention back to her.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Penelope pursed her lips as she stared back at the woman; it wasn’t lost on her the way her eyes traveled over the Brit’s form. Instinctively, her back straightened from the feeling of being looked at. She did, however, use the opportunity to further look at the woman standing next to her.

And again, she wondered what on earth she was doing here. The psychometrist took in a deep breath, unable to deny that she was attractive, tattoos and all. Her Australian accent was clear, and it suited her outward appearance. How she composed herself. She found her eyes lingering on the other’s lips briefly.

Penny’s gaze shot back to the canvas, deciding to focus on why it was moving. Or rather, how it was moving. She did her best to attempt to push the woman out of her mind.

But then she spoke again. Penelope raised her eyebrows, keeping her eyes on the painting. “It makes me think of a book.” She said finally, “Murakami’s Dance Dance Dance.” She drew her gaze back to the Australian, eyeing her with curiosity. She wasn’t sure why she was talking to her, but something about her sparked an interest in the psychometrist. Maybe because she, too, didn’t belong in this gallery. “’The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.’” A hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

"Why are you here?"

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

A book? It wasn't the first time Lucy had heard someone make reference to something like that, so she pursed her lips and nodded her head to one side. No, she didn't know it.

Her answer felt a little profound in its own way. Lucy kept her gaze steadily fixed to the woman at her side. She made a point of finishing what was left in her glass before handing it off to the older tattooed woman who seemed to want to come to her aid. With a small wave of her hand, she indicated that no, she really didn't need another drink. And so her helpful friend left.

Rather, Lucy allowed her attention to be taken by the Brit as she seemed to invest a moment in the galaxy. It was different, as if something she likely wouldn't share with a stranger. But it was gone when she posed that question.

She was, and likely would be, the only person to ever ask Lucy why she was here. Her lips broke into a smile and she resisted the urge to laugh. Still, the amusement was evident on her face.

"Because it's mine." Lucy admitted, "I made it."

Unfurling her hand from the nook in her arm, she extended it out the moment the words left her mouth. "Lucy. Serrano."

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

As Penelope had explained, she watched as the woman handed off her glass to someone who, really looked as if she had a motorbike in the back alley. The Brit's eyebrows twitched upward in curiosity as she was waved off. Who was this woman? Her gaze moved back to the woman at her side just as a smile spread across her lips.

Penelope's eyes widened as the other revealed who she was. This woman was the artist for the gallery? Penelope tried to force her face into a more neutral expression, but the surprise was evident in her eyes. “Ah.” It was the most she could offer in response.

She looked down at the hand offered to her, lips pressing into a hard line before she reached out, grasping it into her own and offering a light shake. “Blaise. Penelope Blaise.” Her dark eyes flicked upwards to catch the woman's gaze. Her hand lingered in the artist's for a few moments longer than necessary before she withdrew it back to her side. “Your work is quite exceptional, Miss Serrano.”

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Lucy pressed her lips into a line the moment she caught the surprise growing on her face. But that failed her, and so she maintained eye contact to the best of her ability as her expression faltered into an amused grin. She raised her eyebrows at the singular sound she offered and nodded.

She was sure she saw a brief moment of hesitation, but that hardly mattered when she finally extended her hand out. Circling her fingers around hers, Lucy offered light pressure in tandem with a mandatory shake. She allowed the contact to linger in much the same way, slowly pulling her hand away the moment she realised she was pulling away. Still, her fingers drew across her palm before she completely withdrew from the moment.

"Lucy's fine." The Australian quickly denoted with a small raise of her hand. It wasn't as ifs he was offended by the notion of being called miss, but it was certainly jarring. Below the cut of her rolled up sleeve, the exposed lion on her forearm flicked its eyes towards her in what could be deemed as curiosity.

"Exceptional, aye?" Lucy asked, though the question had been answered already. Still, the ink manipulator kept her amused grin as she continued; "Exceptional enough to get a little more of your attention?"

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

For a handshake, the contact with Lucy felt strangely intimate. The way her fingers grazed across the Brit’s hand almost made her falter as she pulled away. Almost. Penelope took in a quiet breath, straightening her back as she stared back at the artist.

“Lucy, then.” Penny gave a small, polite nod at the correction. Had she not been so caught up in the Australian’s grin, she might have noticed the shifting ink on Lucy’s arm. However, the Brit couldn’t get past the amused expression playing about the artist’s features.

Especially as she spoke, offering a remark that caused Penelope’s eyebrows to twitch upward, her eyes drawing away from the Australian’s mouth to catch her gaze. She held it in silence for a few moments, trying to determine this woman’s agenda. “Ye—“

Penelope cut herself off upon feeling a hand press down on her shoulder.

[Michael Blaise]

Michael was running late, which wasn’t unusual for the older Blaise. Honestly, by this point Penelope should have expected it, but he was sure that it wouldn’t make his younger sister any less upset with him. After all, she was there because he had asked her to be, and there he was, walking into the gallery a full half hour late.

He straightened his back as he stepped through the doors, instinctively bringing a hand to his tie and adjusting it.

Unlike his sister, Michael knew well enough how to mingle with people who made a much larger paycheck than himself, as he often interacted with the wealthy as part of his job.

That hadn’t stopped him from scanning the crowds for Penelope though, and although short, she wasn’t hard to spot. She stood out, but what had caught his attention more was that she was talking to another person; specifically, his sister was talking to Lucy Serrano.

Yes, he knew who she was thanks to a quick Google search before he showed up, and the older Blaise couldn’t help but to grin as he made his way towards the pair. He hadn’t caught what they were talking about, but regardless he had little issue in interrupting them.

Placing his hand on Penelope’s shoulder, he leaned down a few inches. “Ah, Penelope, here you are!” Animated as ever, Michael smiled over at the tattooed artist, lifting his hand from Penny’s shoulder and reaching forward, taking her hand and shaking it. “Ah! Miss Serrano, let me just say that I am a huge fan of your work.”

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Lucy was so sure she was about to get the very answer she expected. The small moment of silence did nothing to falter the look on her features. And when she tried to speak, she was cut off. But it was enough of an answer for Lucy to know where she was going - where they might have been going were it not for the sudden interruption of someone else.

It took a moment or so before Lucy turned her gaze away, instead glancing at the stranger who seemed to know her well enough. She took note of the point of contact and familiarity without much effort, reaching across the way and shaking his hand, regardless of whether he forced the contact or not.

"Lucy." She interjected quickly, though she realised quickly that both of them had decided to adhere to such a title. She turned her gaze towards Penelope, a curious expression colouring her dark eyes before she looked back again. Whatever their relationship was, she wondered about it. "Would you say it's exceptional?" She asked curiously, the corner of her mouth threatening another amused grin.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Penelope visibly tensed under the weight of Michael’s hand on her shoulder, letting out something of a sigh as he spoke. She knew well enough that her brother was lying, or rather, trying to be charming in his usual sense. He had heard about this gallery only two days before hand. Still, the younger Blaise sibling didn’t call him out on it.

Instead, she focused on the tattooed artist; how she again corrected the title with one much less formal. As Michael took her hand, Penelope pressed her lips into a hard line, eyes flicking down as they shook. It didn’t linger. There wasn’t an ounce of intimacy in the action that had felt so evident beforehand.

As their hands pulled away, Penelope took a step forward, making herself parallel with the taller sibling. “This is my brother, Michael.” She felt the need to stress the word, not bothering to even grant Michael a glance as she kept her focus on the Australian.

And there it was, a brief moment of eye contact. It was enough to make Penny’s breath falter under the curious gaze Lucy offered her. Her lips pursed, eyebrows raising on instinct as she looked back at the Australian – she didn’t need to finish her sentence.

[Michael Blaise]

Michael seemed completely oblivious to any connection between the two women, and he grinned back at Lucy as she took his hand. “Right then, Lucy.” The man gave a slight nod, laughing as Penny introduced him. “Oh! How silly of me. Yes. I’m Michael Blaise. It’s a pleasure.” Although it might have come off as flirting, it was just how the older Blaise operated; quite the difference from Penny, Michael was quite animated and unusually friendly.

His eyes flicked to the painting in front of them, eyebrows rising as he looked at it, completely oblivious to the imperative eye contact between his sister and the artist. It was only when he was prompted did he look back at the Australian. “I certainly would,” he smiled genuinely, “It’s lovely. Might I ask how it’s moving?”

It hadn’t been lost on Michael how the paint seemed to shift right on the canvas, and it had completely captured his curiosity.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

The obvious realisation hit Lucy when this woman felt the need to point out that he was her brother. She offered nothing more than a small nod. Now she was more interested in the fact that she just had to express that.

There was a short, almost unavoidable point of eye contact. When her breath seemed to falter, Lucy spent a moment glancing at her lips before she flicked her gaze back towards her eyes. She briefly lost her ability to control the amused expression on her mouth as she finally dragged her attention back to the brother. The one who she was talking to.

Her grin shifted into a smile; silent thanks for the compliment he reiterated in his own way. But he asked the inevitable question. And she wore a look of intrigue. Finally.

"How interested are you in the answer to that?" Lucy asked, her eyebrows twitching upwards once as she lost the ability to grant her attention to his eyes. "I can show you," She started, her eyes settling on his shoulder, though even then it didn't feel right; "If you wouldn't mind me adding a little work to the tree you've been sporting."

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Penelope watched the exchange in quiet curiosity. Michael, as expected, was much better at this than the younger Blaise, and her eyebrows rose as he asked the question Penny couldn’t bring herself to. She had wanted to determine it what caused the shift in ink before asking, or at least give herself time to attempt to figure it out.

Still, she remained quiet as she waited for an answer. The one received, however, seemed to irk the psychometrist. Her dark eyes traveled from Lucy to her brother, and then back again to the artist, watching as her eyes traveled over him. Her lip twitched downward as she resisted the urge to frown.

What was she doing?

Yet as the Australian spoke, Penelope’s eyes widened in surprise. How did she know of the tattoo Michael had? The expression Lucy wore was intriguing, to say the least. Her eyebrows knit together in a moment of confusion, trying to piece together the facts. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from speaking a single word; “No.”

[Michael Blaise]

Michael was a naturally curious creature. So when he caught sight of the way Lucy focused on his shoulder, and the offer that followed, he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his lips. How she possibly knew of the tree imprinted on his shoulder blade was beyond him, even if he could put the pieces together, he still wanted to know.

His gaze never wavered as Penelope spoke out, instead his smile pulled up into a grin as he let out a light laugh. “Don’t mind my sister; she doesn’t find tattoos to be very conventional.” Instinctively, he crossed his arm across his chest, fingers tightening around the shoulder Lucy focused on. “I’m all yours.”

It was only then did he look at Penelope, eyebrows rising with an almost childish excitement as he received a less than impressed look from the psychometrist.