Zofie received notice of the opening at least twice; once from Bryant Shaw leaving flyers around Dockside, near her workshop, and again from Lucy's canvassing in New Haven. She arrived on the earlier side of the evening, yet wound up staying rather long with other artists with whom she had worked at Shinebox as crew, effects and set design. While she talked the most with Bryant, she spent much more of her viewing time with Astrid's work, circling around it, leaning in and backpedaling, just about everything short of actually touching the pieces themselves. Likely, through the idle chatter of the evening, she helped nudge at least two buyers into purchasing works from the artists.

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Inevitably, Zofie scared a few people with how she treated 'finger food,' and left the evening pleasantly buzzed on champagne and cocktails. Lucy herself likely received a too-tight/intimate hug and a slurred, yet earnest series of compliments on opening the gallery before the pink-haired animator frolicked off.

When it comes to supporting local, Thorn was down. When it came to supporting people with whom she had a connection, she was all in.

With her usual, customary, chime of bells and warmth and cheer, the redneck moved through the crowd. Smiling and nodding, stopping to speak here and there with folk she knew at least in passing.

Even people she didn't know she'd exchange a smile or two with, the hearth fire warmth and friendliness she had an overabundance of readily available.

For Lucy she brought a bottle of cherry wine and a bouquet of flame-colored roses. Congratulations on the gallery and its opening night.

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Not usually one to venture away from King's Cove in the evenings, nonetheless Helena King made an appearance, dressed up for the occasion. As a quietly unknown artist herself, there was no way she would allow the opening of a new art gallery to go unmarked, always interested to see other people's work, and simply drink in with envy the sight of work displayed in a gallery at all.

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Sabine spent a great deal of her time wandering from piece to piece and quietly expressing that she "doesn't get it." Until she found one that she did get by Bryant Shaw. She stood before it for nearly an hour before walking away with a crumpled and tear stained cocktail napkin in hand. The remainder of the night was spent making small talk here and there and finding quiet corners to park herself in. No doubt she was a part of the group that went out together afterwards for a nightcap.

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Arriving around seven, Shae waited her turn to congratulate the new gallery owner and pass on a gift to commemorate the opening. A bit of conference with friend Ketch the night before had given her inspiration for, to borrow his phrasing, a 'Shae' sort of present. Thus, Lucy would receive a leather bound ledger for keeping track of her sales on the floor with a curious metal plate affixed to the inside cover.

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A few quiet words and a quick demonstration would let Lucy in on the features of the ledger.

Much of the evening was passed in admiration of the pieces on display, with particular attention for the works of Bryant Shaw whose abstract pieces Shae was especially drawn towards. Although Shae was no art aficionado, nor possessed the personal living space yet to display any paintings she might secretly covet, her genuine interest and ability to describe the impact of various works would no doubt contribute to the persuasion of a few purchases.

Familiar faces were beacons that Shae would gravitate to amongst the crowd, happy to share a toast to Lucy and a friendly hello. The discovery of Ketch in an altered state prompted some amusement at his expense via the endorsement and the exacerbation of his esoteric ramblings. The witch's mischievous bullshitting was made almost exclusively regarding the 3-D pieces of Astrid Langstrom whose work, after all that playful torment, Shae decided she was actually fond of.

Fox had been encouraged to go hunting that evening as Shae was concerned about the appropriateness of an animal at a gallery, but when the night's quest proved unsuccessful, the reynard snuck past security to hang out with Zofie at the food table and do his best to sucker guests into feeding him. Shae would later find her familiar stuffed full of hors d'oeuvres and have to carry him out to join the group intent on bar hopping at the end of the evening.

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He attended, of course, without grudge or complaint. Dressed sharply, his appearance was a subtle compliment to Lucy's ensemble. He prefered to linger in the background and was often within eyesight of her, though sometimes he needed a private moment and slipped to an area less public for a chance to breathe easy. Large social gatherings were more exhausting than energizing to him.

He was glad to see familiar faces and he had a smile for them all, and even a few words for those that were inclined to chat.

Between conversations, he caught the owner and hostess for whispers and sometimes a discreet kiss, proud of her for accomplishing her goal.

It had been a long night by the time the last of the crowd straggled away. Finally alone with Lucy, Dair was ready to celebrate the gallery's grand opening in earnest.

All work and no play was exhausting, and Vyn's dedication to the crusade sometimes waffled when time was not taken for a reprieve from the grind. Any distraction sufficed, even an art gallery, though she kept an eye on some news about a local carnival too.

The art gallery won this evening. Maybe it was the mystique of adulthood such an event implied -- grownups idling around and talking intellectually, debating the merits of aesthetic value in today's society and its impact for good or ill . Or whatever. It was a chance to get Dalhar out of his armor and into fancy clothes. It was an opportunity to relax for a night. Of course, "relax" was relative. After Beltane, the neither of them went unarmed, having well-learned their lesson, but at least they concealed their weapons.

They were a questionable sight, weapons or no. Dalhar more than Vyn appeared particularly out of place though she reassured him he was handsome in his suit. And he was, she thought. A work of art himself, a contradiction of savagery dressed in civility. Plus the clothing fit him well. Very well.

Aside from her youth she blended in seamlessly with such a crowd, particularly the more sophisticated of them though she did not insist to linger in their presence, especially when a few shot Dalhar a demeaning sneer. She could play at upper class snobbery (it had been part of her training), but without Master Penn to control her she had less tolerance for their prejudice and could easily become a mouthy brat -- evidence of her age, perhaps.

So the pretty girl and the grizzled warrior wandered together. Dalhar looked alternately constipated and bewildered as he tried to reason the intent of the art, as well as the gathering itself. Vyn found him charming for his effort to care. They talked mostly between themselves as they sampled the food and drink, ghosting between exhibits. Vyn had a greeting and compliment for any friendly face they met.

They left as quietly as they had arrived.

Hal:
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Kate:
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Click-clack, click-clack went her heels on the pavement in a staccato rhythm, trying to hustle along the man at her side with a hand on his elbow, cupped for a light grip, tugging him to get it in gear. "I don't know why you drag your feet, you always have a good time," flashing a wide smile at him over her shoulder, the netting from her pillbox fascinator only half obscuring her view of him. Even though it was cobblestone streets down this way, Kate moved confidently in her stilettos, never missing a beat or wobbling uncertainly. "I...think we're in the right spot," her other hand pressing a button her phone and looking to the screen when it lit up, confirming the address and directions. "Yup, just around the next corner."

He might've snapped something rude at her but her smile disarmed him. He only frowned instead. "I don't know why you insist I go if you're just gonna complain about me draggin' my feet." Grumble mutter. He readjusted his grip on the bottle of champagne, passing it between his hands. He tugged on his collar. "I think I hear people," he added, confirming her confirmation.

"Because you need to get off your ass and at least drink socially if you're intent on sending yourself to the grave. You still got some life left in you to live, I can't just watch you waste away on board ship." The words were heartfelt but she was a little distracted, craning her neck to peer ahead once the door to the gallery was in sight. "Besides, if Lucy doesn't meet you, she's going to think I made you up or something next time I'm complaining to her," throwing another disarming smile at him before she put a hand to the door. It was pulled open and the soft chatter of the small crowd inside washed over them. Kate grinned and curled her elbow around Hal's so that they might walk in together. "It will be good for business," she muttered out of the side of her mouth as a last ditch effort to convince him that he should have a real social life. Weaving through the crowd, she found the ginger owner first to have a meet-n-greet between Hal and Lucy.

"I've met her," was the only thing he said to all of that. "You just couldn't see it." They'd ran into the red-haired woman during the time he'd been invisible. And they'd seen her at Beltane. And sort of met at the inn before any of that other stuff. Some people loitered outside, laughing and smoking. They walked to the gallery and away from it in groups, with the occasional loner moving between bodies. Inside the gallery was well lit, putting the art on proper display. Hal squinted against the bright lights and looked around as they cut through the room to congratulate Lucy and give her one more bottle to add to the few she'd probably already collected. "Here," he'd said, and though it was brief he sounded polite. She could surely not expect much more from a fellow in a rumpled coat. Once the formalities were finished, he stepped away with Kate to browse the displays. Might as well since they were there.

Kate glanced around eagerly while the two were re-introducing themselves and she spotted a familiar face from a recent coffee shop enterprise. An impish smile grew and she took the bottle back from Lucy. "I'm going to go make sure this gets put on ice, you go ahead," patting Hal's shoulder and encouraging him to mingle or be a wall flower, whatever floated his boat. Then she sauntered off without a backward glance, heading in the general direction of the bar. She leaned over the counter there, holding out the bottle to him with a smile and explaining that it needed to be chilled, it was for the owner. Then she procured two glasses and sauntered through the crowd until she found Sweaty Guy. She was easily seen as a bright streak of crimson in a sea of black though Kate wasn't the only pop of color in the crowd. Maybe the feathers on her hat made her easier to spot but she didn't try to hide the way she was flirting with the tall brunette. He got one of the glasses of champagne and she clinked hers against it before taking a sip.

He wandered around, sometimes nodding a polite, mumbled hello to strangers that happened to meet his eye or drift too close. Though familiar with this sort of scene, it had been years since he'd attended an event like it. His attention drifted between the artwork and memories for awhile as he wandered until he realized that he was quite alone. Still. Where the hell was Kate? Irritated by the lack of her, he paced the crowd until-- there. There she was. Talking to...Sweaty Guy? Hopefully he was not really very sweaty because gross, and even if Hal looked a little disheveled at least he didn't stink, and he'd be offended if Kate wanted to spend time with stinky sweaty guy instead of him. Because she was the reason he was out here, by the Host. He didn't infringe immediately because Kate was sometimes known to flirt with her marks before making a client out of them. Or stealing from them. Same diff. So for now he spied.

Sweaty Guy wasn't sweaty now - now, he was looking damn good and smelling even better. Kate was grinning and she touched his arm briefly, tapped something into her phone and then touched his elbow again before drifting away with half a glass of champagne still left. Smirking triumphantly while she wandered the room, grabbing something on a cracker and making a face while chewing it. Not the best thing she'd ever eaten but it would serve for now. Took her a moment to find Hal and then she grinned, wiggled her fingers in a wave and wove her way toward him. "Hey, you meet anyone else yet?"

"No," he said with a frown, and in a tone that was like why the hell would I do that? "Looks like you did. What's he do?" Because Hal figured Kate had been scoring some business.

She'd been trying to score something but it had nothing to do with business. Not pilot business, anyway. His belligerence was met with a chuckle and roll of her eyes. "Because you're here so why not be friendly?" reading his subtext easily and responding anyway. "He?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder and then smiling. "Oh, him. Mmm, I don't know what he does. Fights for fun, sometimes, according to him." She glanced back to Hal with a shrug, sipping at her champagne.

He grunted and glanced back at Sweaty-not-sweaty-at-the-moment guy. "I am friendly," he grumbled belatedly.

"Well let's see if we can't get you a little friendlier with some of these ladies. You could use a sugar mama in your life," grinning and nudging him with an elbow. There was Zofie, milling around in mermaid gear, which Kate loved and nodded at her. "How about her? A little too artistic for you?" glancing back to him in his rumpled evening wear and vaguely sour expression.

What was vaguely sour turned into a pound of lemons. He made an irritated noise and turned away without even looking at whomever Kate indicated (though Hal had no doubt she was an attractive lady). They were in public, somewhere nice, so he didn't quite storm away but he was clearly done with that conversation. Maybe he could find a painting to soothe the turmoil in his soul.

Kate frowned at the back of his head a moment and then shrugged her shoulders, glancing around. "You can sit here and sulk all you want. Meanwhile, Mama might get something between these thighs that don't require a battery," even pointing in a downward motion in case there was any confusion about it. With that, she made a 'hmph' sound and wandered off. If Hal was just going to be grouchy all night, he could hang out by himself.

The comment gave him pause before he'd gotten more than a few steps away. He turned back toward her, and though she seemed intent on a new location he asked, somewhat taken aback, "You...you're here to pick up guys?"

His shocked question made her turn around - not because she was embarrassed he said it in public, more surprised at his tone. She was shocked that he was shocked. "Well, I'm not here just for that reason but if I can multitask, hey, why not?" taking a step toward him again so she didn't have to raise her voice. Kate searched his expression, wondering...well, it wasn't like she was getting any anywhere else and a girl had needs. It was strictly business.

The shock dissolved, and though at first he just stared at her he eventually jerked a nod. "Yeah," he said quietly, distantly, "why not." Blame his surprise. Blame it on confusion. And he had been confused, hadn't he? He realized it now. He looked around the room without really seeing anything, then met her gaze. "Just...keep it off the ship, all right?" The quarters were too cramped; he didn't want a stranger wandering around his boat; no one wanted to listen to anyone else getting lucky. They were all perfectly legit reasons for his request. He shifted his weight, kind of leaning away from her like he was ready to move along.

Why was he being like this? Kate was staring right back at him, frowning and peering closely. Even leaning forward a little. An uncertain half step taken forward and then he spoke, his voice so flat. "Well...yeah. Okay," nodding and she was a little distant, too, distracted by the sudden weirdness between them. Feeling uneasy, she lingered for another moment and then she pushed off, tossing back the rest of her champagne and intent on finding at least five more glasses. See if the bottle she brought was chilled yet.

Despite that she insisted he drink socially, he much preferred the privacy of his room, where the lights were not so bright and nobody might look twice at him if he wanted to drink hard. He slid a glance after her, then made an exit immediately after. Maybe he'd come back to the gallery another time. Some of the pieces looked nice. There was even one that reminded him of a plate of pasta.

Kate saw him leave, couldn't have missed it because she'd wandered nearer to the door. Her gaze followed him down the block until he disappeared from view; a deep frown marked her face, muttering to herself under her breath and then she sought more champagne. Though she mingled and wandered and gazed at the paintings, she never really saw any of it as she replayed that single scene over and over in her head.

Cianan would show up, dressed in rather normal, snappy attire. This was not an event that he would miss, nor be under dressed for. The smile would be the brightest thing on him, though, it would wane after a bit, social niceties could be incredibly draining, after all.

He'd chit and chat with Shae. Give Fox a few small things under the table when no one was looking. He would even smile, and be nice towards Ketch when he saw him. And anyone else that was around that he could mingle with for a bit.

He'd slide up next to Sabine, while she was in the process of her napkin tearing, and offer her a new one. Chatting with her a bit about the picture that had taken her. Cianan would try to see what it was that she saw, his head tilting from side to side, trying to find a view of it. Of course, a big flaw was that he just wasn't one to stare at the beauty of the ocean, which could eventually lead to the complaint of, "...I think I prefer the art that looks like things."

Lucy would get a kiss on the cheek, and well wishes, when it was time for him to roll out with other drinking people.

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"Feel trapped." Isaac groused, pausing at the corner of the side street and trying in vain to loosen the tie his sister had forced him to wear for the gallery opening.

"It's just a tie, Isaac." Josie chuckled and swatted her brother?s hand away from fussing with it before fixing it and smoothing it back into place. You could take the girl out of Paris, but there was still the soft cadence of French that was whipped into the flavor of her words like a whisper of Chantilly cream. "Not a noose."

"Same difference." The knife thrower muttered. A sip from his flask was taken and a cigarette removed from the back compartment before it was returned to his jacket. In Isaac's mind there were only four acceptable occasions for a suit: funerals, weddings, court and church. He was already kicking himself for agreeing to this whole thing, but Josie hadn't stopped talking about it since she'd heard about the opening. It had been weeks since the ballet and Isaac figured she'd been hanging around a bunch of ragtag carnies long enough. Boz's colorful language and stories alone at breakfast had her eyes nearly popping out of her head. A bit of culture might be just the thing she needed--hell she was probably starved for it.

"You look handsome. Besides, I can't bring you to a gallery opening looking like you just wandered out of the Dust Bowl." Her teasing smile lit up her gaze and the nebulae of colors within.

"Nah." Isaac lit up a Lucky Strike and took a long drag before blowing a stream of smoke away from his sister, that crooked smile full of amusement at her dust bowl remark. "All too kind." Isaac's dogwood drawl matched the slow pace in which he walked. Sometimes the pauses between sentences were as long and drawn out as an Indian summer. It took patience to have a conversation with Isaac and Josie was one of the few who had it in spades.

As Isaac was busy producing his cigarette, Josie slyly produced her phone from her purse in an attempt to snap a single picture of him--Proof that her brother could actually clean up nicely!

His sharp, grey gaze cut his sister's way with an amused glint until she produced the camera. "Jos---No!" Isaac held up a hand and turned his head just as she tried to snap the picture. "Really--bless your heart." The polite, southern way of telling his sister off.

Josette laughed and tucked her camera phone away back in her purse as they continued walking together along the cobblestone street in the marketplace towards the gallery. The simple black dress she wore hung off her a bit since the weight loss, but Josie didn't mind. She still relished the way the hemline twirled and the excitement of another evening in a new city left little room for feeling self-conscious. She had every intention of purchasing a few new dresses in a few boutiques in New Haven during her explorations, but soon became wrapped up in shopping for Isaac instead. Much to her brother's dismay!

"I have an idea for your act." Called out to Isaac as she twirled her way down the street. "We'll see if I can spin faster than you can throw your knives. What do you say?" A glance over her shoulder mid-spin to see if her brother would agree.

"No." Isaac's lips became a thin line after he blew out another steady stream of smoke into the night air. "Three shows a day s' too much for you." Isaac drawled, his gaze sweeping around frequently to keep as many of the shadows as he could in his eye line. Isaac didn?t know the city very well yet, the carnival was still relatively new in town and his time largely spent on stage or dealing with the day to days of eking out a living kept him busy. Consequently, he kept a close hold on his sister as they navigated the unfamiliar territory. He'd already seen some pretty strange things and he still wasn?t wild about her being out this late, but she had a stubborn streak a mile wide.

"Isaac--"

"We'll talk about it later, ok?" He might have known this was coming. Josie was starting to get antsy and she longed to be part of the show. He knew how much she missed dancing.

She knew better than to press him at the moment. She had already pushed him with the tie, so she decided to pick her battles and glanced down to the glossy postcard she held to check the address and changed gears. "I'm looking forward to seeing the artwork aren't you?" I figured you?d enjoy it since you?re always drawing all the time. Gallery openings are inspiring. Besides, it's important to support local artists."

?Those are just sketches.? Isaac deflecting any attention away from whatever artistic talent he might or might not possess. ?Nothing worth hanging on a wall somewhere, let alone chargin' money for. But yeah, s' nice to get away from the carnival for a bit," He conceded as the sounds of the gallery and those within greeted them before he flicked his cigarette away and they stepped through the door.

Isaac watched as his sister drifted away. The rockslide of slate in his gaze shifted from one wall to the other, the art hanging here and there and the people flowing about the place. Never one for crowds unless he was throwing knives, Isaac kept mostly to himself and examined the comings and goings of people even more so than the artwork. People watching was how Isaac got a feel for the city.

His attention was eventually pulled back towards one of Bryant Shaw's pieces, the abstract ocean casting its waves in the artists play of light. The soft blue of the water, the arc of the waves done with such deliberate strokes tugged at distant threads of memory.

He unwittingly recalled the way the bars rattled closed at night, the way the stone walls seemed to leer over him as he lay in a shared cell and did his best to ignore the shouts and yells of others similarly incarcerated. He?d thought of the ocean on those dark nights, the wide expanse of blue washing up against the grainy purity of white sands. It represented freedom. And so upon his release he?d managed to hitch a ride out to the closest strip of sand. It probably had a name though he?d never learned it, Isaac had just needed to sit upon the dunes with his shoes off; watch the way his toes curled into the sand and feel the liberating breeze upon his face.

A blink of slate as the brief memory faded as quickly as it had come, it had blown through his mind like a summer storm. The cap of the flask was pushed off with a thumb, a little sip to wash down the remnants of the memories before he was turning to put a watchful eye upon his sister once more. He moved to collect a flute of champagne and a few hors d'oeuvres that he thought might tempt her.

A slight smile was even pulled from the knife thrower as he spotted the fox and where he had conveniently and discreetly positioned himself. One or two hors d'oevres might have found their way into those vulpine jaws with a deft sleight of hand. "Not too much now-" He drawled quietly. "You'll get fat." He guessed that this was not his first handout of the evening. He thought of his dog, Boomer, who was quiet put out about being left behind.

Josette's gaze roamed with admiration over the space of the gallery. Like her brother, she was prone to people watching as well. She admired the various fashions and the men and women that brought them to life. She remained as unobtrusive as possible if she witnessed someone having a moment with one of the pieces and did well to give them their space to not infringe upon the moment. A few remarks overheard even drew some chuckles and a few thoughtful return glances to some things that she had not initially considered about the artwork.

Astrid's play with color and dimension drew her in and captivated her, so much so that she felt a bit light headed as she gazed for longer than she intended. That familiar rattle and hum in her cells coaxed her half in and out of herself, till both the artwork and her own body blurred those dimensional lines and she began to drift like Alice down the rabbit hole. It wasn't until Isaac's touch to her elbow grounded her and brought her round to herself again with a blink. She accepted the flute with a smile, as pink champagne was her favorite and the fresh berries were a favored summertime delight.

Josette's attention was soon drawn to the stunning redhead fielding interruptions and giving quiet instructions. She made it a point before leaving to congratulate Lucy and introduce herself and Isaac before inquiring about the possibility of transporting one of the pieces to Paris. Her Mother currently had a new design space with far too many white walls.

Before long, the two were making their way out of the gallery as the crowd thinned out. Isaac took up a lean against a streetlight to enjoy another cigarette while Josette paused to admire the book and flower shops on either side of the gallery that had remained open even in the late hour. The knife thrower purchased a small bouquet of violets for his sister before offering her his arm and the two made their way back to the carnival.

(Thank you to Isaac's writer for the collaboration and Lucy's writer for keeping the thread open for those of us that are late to the party!)