Time Warp: In a Forbidden Tone

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

May, 2018
Paris, France

Working away had grown to be familiar by now. Over a year and she was often flying out of the country towards something greater. Meetings. Interviews. Shows. More interviews. Investment interventions at the side of the twins. Dom would always interject about the future of the industry, and the trust he was trying to build towards. As it still stood, shows highlighting certain skills were a little more minor. How the colours merged in the works of Lucy Serrano still remained a bit of a mystery.

But it was a first, now. The first time she could be joined on an overseas trip. A week of scheduling and interviews. A week of setting up the space. A week of showing and selling. Everything left was hardly on her list of things to worry about. She got company for a little over one of those weeks.

It was unfortunate that the beginning of that trip coincided with a stressful set of days ensuring everything's perfection. An slowly filling gallery with empty walls still showing. Chevaliers wrapped in meetings. It was all ordinary. All the standard.

At least she got to have her counterpart with her while she worked.

"Lower." The Australian instructed, pen in hand as she indicated towards the piece in front of her.

"But the standard height is-"

"Lower." She quickly reasoned, "If it's too high, it's not at eye level. If it's not at eye level, people aren't going to pay attention." Turning her attention side-ward, she glanced at the same woman who kept following her around. The one who followed her in every aspect of her working day; "If it's not in your face, it's exactly what it is now; something minor on a wall in the background."

She replied with a nod. It was lowered. And the pattern would follow suit along the line.

"Be-Art was asking about your show. Again." She interjected.

Never a moment of solitude, the ink manipulator waved for the psychometrist to follow along. She'd wanted to show what it meant to work as she did as much as she was sure Penny wanted to experience it, hectic as it was. "What did they want this time?"

"Rumours state you're going to paint yourself from head to toe in order to properly express your talents."

The threat of a halt to Lucy's steps, but she continued anyway, "Why?"

"Because they adore outlandish foreigners."

It was a fair point; Australia was hardly known for producing masses of intellectual artistic figures. A sidelong glance to her counterpart before the thoughts of her brand of humour could overcome the moment as Lucy so wanted it to, "Schedule a visit for tomorrow, if you think it's best." She replied, "If you could point out no one's going to be naked, that'd be even better."

"I'll do my best."

"Anything else?" The Australian asked, her eyebrows raised questionably. A moment to breathe would have been nice, but the assistant beside her was tentative to respond, let alone step out of time.

"Maisons Cote Sud would like to know when you'll be releasing the license to the galaxy featured on page six."

"When they've filled the invoice for it." She replied without a look. Just a small grin at the corner of her mouth which promptly dragged attention to the forefront.

"Ils ne vont pas." Pausing abruptly her footing, Lucy raised a free hand and pressed her index finger between the curve of her lips. This always happened.

"Sorry, what?" Lucy asked, raising her eyebrows. The language filtered in one ear and out the other, but the woman at her side gave her a short, intrusive glance.

"Ils ne vont pas." She repeated, her accent drawling over the words in an almost condescending way.

Promptly, Lucy ran her tongue along her lower lip. The corner of her mouth twitched to a frown. It was busy enough as it was; she hated when they did this. Exhaling a sigh, she felt the frustrated connotations of her own mentality breach her expression. A process. The gears turning.

"Faites-les." She finally drawled, the inflections of her own accent breaking the flow of words, but the understanding was still evident; forgiving as her follower was, "S'il vous plaît? I literally can't if they don't."

With a small nod, she stepped away, a grateful smile on her features for the simple fact that the stubborn Australian tried to appease her primary language.

Within that moment to breathe, the ink manipulator finally managed to turn her attention completely to the counterpart. A small smile at the corner of her mouth as she reached out towards her, hands at either side of her waist. "This is probably really bloody boring," Lucy pointed out, inflections in her tone softening "We can go soon."

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Traveling to Paris was new. As much as Penelope could try to anticipate how it would go, she knew she was going in blind to a new way of life. Her work life. But she had never expected this.

Money was everywhere. Practically thrown around without care. From the place they were staying in to the shoes Lucy’s assistant wore. At least her wife was still sporting her usual attire; skinny jeans and flannel. Paint splattered in random points. Penny couldn’t be more grateful for it.

She followed Lucy quietly, taking in this new person that took form when she was in a work environment. Of course, she’d seen the ink manipulator tattoo a handful of people, and the professionalism there was remarkable. But this was different.

Professional. In charge. Demanding. Incredibly attractive.

And so Penny watched with fascination. Even the slackened way in which her wife usually spoke had been cleaned up. Something the Brit thought to be impossible. Her outlandish counterpart’s response to her assistant threatened a smile to Penny’s neutral expression, but with a quick breath she was quick to control it.

Now was hardly the time to get caught up, even if it was impossible not to on some level.

But what caught her attention was the foreign language that hit her ears. French, without a doubt, but the Brit hadn’t taken the subject, and hadn’t the slightest idea what had been said. But she had. A moment of thought, but she clearly had it. Even if her response lacked any fluid nature, Penny’s eyes still widened as she realized Lucy had actually learned another language.

Within that moment, she was thankful the woman walked away. Penny had been beginning to believe it wouldn’t happen at all, but she was more glad to feel familiar hands connect with her form. She stepped though the distance on instinct. Just enough to get a little closer. There were a lot of words Penny could have used to describe the new life she had been shown, but boring wasn’t one. And as easily as she could have argued that fact, she was still caught up in something she failed to mention.

“Since when can you speak French?”

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Lucy truthfully had no idea that there was an impressive nature to the way she worked. Work was simply that; a year into the life and she had no choice but to pick up on certain traits and aspects. Being fluid with instructions was a primary aspect of that. The crowd in Paris was far different to the idle expressions she'd given in New York. It required more tact. More diplomacy. Less notorious swearing.

A moment alone was better than nothing, and Lucy easily welcomed the familiar company of her counterpart. It was why she couldn't stop herself from reaching out; why her hands curled into the fabric she wore the moment she stepped closer. By now, the overwhelming nature of the Chevalier's style of comfort was something she got used to. She hadn't thought for a moment that that might be difficult to adjust to for another party.

A little closer. Just a little. And the pressure increased.

Before she could lean in without fail, she caught the question posed to her and stopped any movement. Her tongue ran between her lips quickly, propelling an explanation to a lost thought.

"I can't," Lucy replied, the corner of her mouth dragging up, "Couldn't you tell?"

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Although it was recognized as an important part of Lucy’s life, the Australian never spoke too much about the work she did. It never bothered Penny; it was two separate entities, work and home. The vague way in which Lucy talked about her career was never a bother, and actually seeing it only offered more understanding. As astonishing as it was, it seemed like a full time effort.

Her hand moved to the back of Lucy’s neck upon feeling the pressure her wife placed, fingers curling into the dark hair as she glanced around the gallery briefly before connecting with dark eyes.

“No, I couldn’t.” She replied honestly. As broken as Lucy made the language sound, she still spoke it. Enough to understand and be understood. “It looked as if you could.” She raised her eyebrows. “And you never thought to mention it?”

Never thought how attractive the idea of Lucy learning something like this might have come across?

Penny took in a shallow breath, “How soon?”

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Lucy immediately felt herself being drawn in by the hand around her neck. Though they were still in her work setting, that thought did little to deter the proximity breach. It was, however, the only thing that kept the ink manipulator from leaning past it completely in order to kiss her.

As Penny answered her, the Australian felt her gaze slowly drawn to her mouth. The curve of her lips as she presented each word, carefully phrased into the same question in another form.

Still, she could practically feel the short breath Penny took. Intention clear enough, though not quite crystal. "Killed your ears a bit though, didn't it." She denoted easily enough. After all, that was the most difficult thing about the language she was relatively forced to try to understand.=

"Super soon." She replied; overseeing the general gist of things wasn't incredibly taxing. Today's walk through had given her enough to think about as it was.=

Hands eased themselves around her waist entirely, palms pressed to the small of her back as she threatened that minimal distance with a small tilt of her head. "Got somewhere you want to go?" Lucy asked her, well aware that her counterpart would take an interest in several aspects of the city that she herself couldn't really care about. The connotations of her request were still somewhat lost on her.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

It seemed as if Lucy didn’t quite get the point; although the Australian’s harsh accent did inflict itself onto the language, the use of it hadn’t at all hurt. Maybe it was because the Brit wasn’t familiar with French, or maybe the fact that Lucy was actively learning something outside a school setting.

And then there was her use of the English language. It was quite possibly the most enthralling part of it all.

So the psychometrist was thankful to hear that they would be leaving super soon. Even if it hadn’t been an exact time table, Penny tried her best to accept it. She didn’t want to rush Lucy through this career that she only just started to get a real glimpse of. But that also didn’t stop her from easing forward as she felt loving hands press to her back, either.

“Yes,” Penny replied simply, eyebrows rising. Was there really need to say it? She supposed so, as the tone her counterpart took seemed as if the question was genuine. She tilted her own head a fraction, but hadn’t kissed Lucy. This was her domain. One that Penny wasn’t at all familiar with. “Our room.”

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

A small breach of distance, minor in the larger scheme of things yet it felt pressing all the same. Lucy knew she was calling her in to the best of her ability. She knew she was making it difficult, but there was an obvious sense of restraint about how the psychometrist conducted herself. As if she was hyper aware of her surroundings.

Lucy herself had no idea how she'd struck her counterpart. Even if it were explained to her, it would still likely remain out of reach.

Insinuations became a little more clear when Penny spoke. Lucy half considered that her request had something to do with just out uneventful watching her work would be. She should have warned her better. Should have explained herself to a finer detail.

With another shift, Lucy leaned through that minimal distance and kissed her. Light. As precise as she could have given who she was. But nothing and no one matched the precision of Penelope Blaise.

"Did you forget something?"

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Although Penny was hesitatant to break through the remaining distance between them, she was grateful that her counterpart had. Like clockwork, she reciprocated. Just as light, but significant all the same. The precise nature of Lucy’s move easy to fall into.

More often than not, it was Lucy who made references to their physical relationship, and as her wife failed to make the connection, Penny briefly wondered if she was playing dumb. To get a response from the psychometrist as she so loved to.

Still, she tried nonetheless. “No.” Another short answer as her eyebrows dropped back down, a twitch that threatened them together with a sign of confusion. As if they forgot that this morning.

Dark eyes dropped to Lucy’s lips – barely a second glance before she looked back up again. Once was hardly enough, but the environment she was put it stripped Penny of her normally forward nature. Had she kissed Lucy, she was sure she wouldn’t be able to hide the intention from it. The pressure against the back of Lucy’s neck increased a hair. Anything to silently explain what she couldn’t verbalize.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

No. A singular word for a growingly obvious cause. Getting a mentality out of work and into the normality of things took a little strain. Because there they were, still very much in a place of her work, and she was throwing glances down to her mouth to articulate exactly what she wanted.

A small exhale against the finalised notion. Small pressure to the back of her neck to keep her close, or perhaps draw her inward. Hands tightened around her waist instinctively, newfound weight working wonders to ease her in even further. To keep her close; pressed against herself in an almost inwardly desperate way.

"Are you dying? Is this killing you?" She asked, quirking her eyebrows up once. As if it would be so easy to get such a response.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

The exhale Lucy offered made it clear that the ink manipulator' finally understood, and as if that weren't enough, the quick raise of her eyebrows coupled with a daring question was. She already knew the answer. It was killing Penny.

Her own breath threatened to falter as familiar hands tightened, but instead she held it. Refusing to give her wife the satisfaction just yet.

"I didn't know you could speak French." Penny reiterated, "And I certainly did not know you could speak proper English, either." With a quirk of her own eyebrows, nails lightly grazing past the collar of her wife's shirt.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Lucy opened her mouth, intent on arguing the secondary language argument again. Of all the things she let Dom dictate, that was the most prominent. It didn't mean she had that in any capacity. But there was something far more pressing to consider as her hands moved to sneak further around her waist to draw her through whatever bare distance remained. It was busy. She was busy.

"Proper English?"

It was the first, and really, most important thing to question. Maybe letting go was smarter, but her brain was working its way through something far more necessary. "You didn't know I had the capacity?" Lucy asked her, feigning that indirect innocence before she gave into the need to kiss her lightly.

Because in the next moment, she was reeling her hands away, allowing one to catch her hand and intertwine their fingers instead.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Straightforward as much as it was passive aggressive. In her own way, a true Penelope Blaise statement. She wasn't afraid to call out the way her wife spoke while working, which in turn indicated how she spoke at any other given moment. She was an English teacher, of course she had to say something about the matter.

But hands that drew her in closer caught her attention, more so the delicate kiss given. Penny was quick to reciprocate, but it felt far too short lived as her counterpart broke away. How familiar hands drew away, and despite one catching her own, Penny immediately wished for that closeness back. The brush of her thumb over Lucy's proved that as her fingers fell easily into the grooves of hers.

"I knew you had the potential, but I had yet to actually hear it myself." Penny countered. Several beats late and she still gave a biting remark with every ounce of affection she could place into the statement.

Raising her eyebrows, she looked towards Lucy. It had been her move to draw away, and super soon was hardly an amount of time Penny could count. What she had planned was unknown to the Brit.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

"Hadn't you?" Lucy asked her, a small raise of her eyebrows and a twitch at the corner of her mouth; the threat of a grin she tried so hard to keep at bay. It didn't take much sense to know that stepping out of that lingering contact could be seen as a mistake. She could have rightly stayed where she was. Offered some kind of kiss with a little more weight and a little more defined purpose. But she was where she was now, and with a light tug to her hand, she started walking.

Weaving her way through, Lucy took regulated steps to bypass various fixtures and hangings with purpose. She didn't linger for too long in any one place; she didn't have to.

"I thought you might've known me better. You should have known that I-" A pause in her statement; a raise of her free hand an an extended index finger. Because this was where it sunk in, "-have this."

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

With the light pressure to her hand, Penny followed as he was prompted, walking with Lucy through the gallery. Very much attuned to her counterpart, the Brit still looked to the fames as they passed by them. Although Penny wasn't new to Lucy's artwork, there were still pieces she hadn't seen before. The Australian had her own studio even in Vermont, and with reason. She needed a place to work and dedicate herself to it. A place to make a mess, no doubt. It meant Penny didn't always see her wife's works, and seeing them in such a space, she couldn't help but to look.

But an accented voice dragged her attention back to her wife, eyes dropping to the pointed finger before back up to Lucy. Something of a short exhale passed her lips, amusement no doubt, but not quite a laugh. For once, she didn't have to correct the Australian. Her hand offered another light squeeze.

"My apologies for ever doubting you." She threw back lightly, "I should have known better than to think you might have poor grammar every now and then."

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

At Penny's response, Lucy couldn't help but laugh. The idea of the Australian and strained grammar was definitely worth being amused by. Plus she always enjoyed it when her counterpart was willing to play along with whatever joke she was trying to make. Lucy Serrano. Proper, defined English. The idea alone was worthy.

In practice, she wondered how strange it must have sounded.

But she didn't allow her attention to linger over the fact for long. She was guiding her counterpart with even steps; hardly one to rush through matters, Super soon was an undeniably difficult amount of time to pin down, and it was exactly why she'd offered it.

"You think this is exciting? Wait till you see me work during the exhibit." Lucy offered, dragging her free hand out of her back pocket. And there, she stopped at a door. An inlet office for designing the particular set up they were having that season; one she took easy steps into.