ArchivedLogs:Art Critic

Art Critic
Dramatis Personae B, Jax, Lucien, Micah, Peter, Shane
In Absentia	2014-05-22 '
Location Art Gallery
It's eveningtime. A chic gallery in Chelsea known for showcasing innovative and provocative emerging artists. The crowd in here is swank -- though /eclectically/ so, an odd mishmash of designer suits and hipster art-student swag, critics and press elegantly dressed rubbing elbows with Jax's Cooper Union friends in jeans and brightly coloured blazers. There are refreshments scattered around tables around the room. Juice and soda and water and wine and beer. Dip and cheese and crackers and fruit and veggies. And kind of a lot of meat. The twins are here, after all. There is, quietly, also somewhat an unusual complement of /security/ circling the room, on loan from the Mendel Clinic for the night, more than would be expected for an upstart artist at an upstart gallery opening. Jax himself is well-dressed, tailored elegantly in a new Blomgren suit for the occasion, cream and bold purple; with his bright skull tattoo and eyepatch and piercings he'd stand out even if /not/ for the small crowd that has tended to congregate around him this evening. For once the questions revolve mostly around his /art/ though -- admittedly /sometimes/ other things (terrorisms! /activisms/! scandal!) slip in. On the walls hang his paintings -- the product of the better part of a year of his work, a series of portraits, mutants all of them. "Humanity", is the simple title of the exhibit, even if not all of the portraits seem to display much of that. Some of the paintings are plain enough. Daiki in mid-lunge with a fencing foil, Flicker and a woman with a large poof of Afro engaged in an apparently intense game of Magic, Ryan (/his/ picture has garnered a lot of attention) with his violin. Some -- draw more comments. Dusk perched on the Lofts roof with his huge wings draped to the side of the wall for balance. Taylor and Hope snuggled up on a couch watching television, his tentacles twined in between her sharp shards of bone spikes. Horus grooming Clarice's quills into place. The twins puppy-wrestling on the pier, one's sharp claws dug into the other's side, the other's sharp /teeth/ sunk into the first's neck. /Grinning/ but bloody. Unlike his portrait, Shane is not very bloody, tonight. He does have a sharp red vest on, over a black button-down, black slacks, neat bow-tie. His /grin/ is just as toothy as his painting as he chomps his way through a small plate of tiny-tiny sausages that he has collected, standing near a picture -- Ian, skinny and spectacled with his guitar in hand though his legs have dissipated into shadow. He's talking with his twin in rapid Vietnamese, blithely ignoring the rest of the shindig, just at the moment. "{How many people here do you think are into art and how many are just --}" "{-- gawking?}" B is dressed in a long ao dai; ze matches hir twin in colour scheme, deep red tunic, black embroidery, black pants beneath. "{I think there's a /lot/ of --}" Ze has a cup of sparkling apple cider that ze gestures with towards a pair of men who are rather openly staring at Jax and whispering. None too kindly, either. "{Assholes.}" "{But are they assholes into art?}" Shane's dark eyes fix on the pair of men before moving off. His grin doesn't fade. "{Assholes into /freaks/.}" B doesn't sound overly concerned. "{This /is/ a show all about freaks,}" Shane points out cheerfully, spearing a sausage on the end of a toothpick and waving it towards the painting behind him. Then towards /B/. Lucien has been here -- quietly, conversing with this critic here and that member of the press there, until he finally makes his way back over to the star of the moment. He's understated tonight in grey slacks and a green button-down, and he cuts his way through the small crowd around Jax with the ease of someone well /used/ to New York gatherings. Not /pushy/, just -- /here/. His hand moves to rest lightly at the small of Jax's back, his smile quick and warm as he leans in to press a small kiss first to one cheek and then to the other. "I think congratulations are in order. This is -- beyond impressive. If the reviews tomorrow are not raving I will be quite surprised. You have certainly made an impression, though, I should think." Micah has been spending a fair amount of time hovering near Jax, though he does wander off regularly to look at the paintings and clump in alongside people he knows. The people wanting to talk seriously about art or politics earn a shorter conversation and a bit of a wider-eyed look before he finds an excuse to bolt. Fancy parties, not exactly his forte. Though he is at least dressed for this one in a fine cream linen suit that looks like...probably he did not pick it out himself. His hair is also /neat/ to the point that he must have actually gotten it cut not long before. He extricates himself from a small collection of people by one painting, checking in with Jax again serving as a convenient excuse to slide away. "Everythin' goin' okay? Can I bring you anythin'?" he asks, a hand resting at the small of Jax's back as he returns. "Hi, Lucien," is added with a smile when he realises the other man is there. "Luci!" Jax curls an arm around Lucien, squeezing close, his smile bright and warm when Lucien draws near. "M'so glad y'made it, honey-honey, thank y'for -- oh, gosh, folks is ravin', alright." Though his sudden blush and wrinkle of nose doesn't /entirely/ mean this in the most complimentary of ways. He rocks back a step, leaning into Micah's touch. "Oh I sure wouldn't say no t'a juice'a some kind I'm -- I'm feelin' crazy-crashy some reason." His brows furrow, at this. "An' everythin's goin' --" His smile widens, and he leans in just a little bit closer to Micah. "Pretty excellent actually. Better'n I'd hoped." "Half the paintings are sold already. That's good, right?" Shane is wandering over closer to his dads, nibbling his sausage off of the toothpick, his arm hooked through B's. "Evening's only half through," B adds brightly. "-- but then won't the show just be. Kind of. Boring?" Shane frowns, now. "Oh, no." B shakes hir head quickly. "You don't get to take the things /home/ yet even if you buy them. You buy them but the gallery keeps them till the show is over. /Then/ you take them." "Ohhh." Shane relaxes, slightly. "That. Makes more sense, then." He grins over at Jax, a little sheepishly. "... we bought Ian's," he admits. "For Dusk." Lucien's lips curl upward slightly. He leans in to peck Micah lightly on the cheek as well, stepping back afterward. "Good evening. Of course I made it. I make it rather a point to be well-versed, culturally, and this is certainly what the art world is talking about this week. Were you /really/ in any doubt that it would be a success? Micah, is your husband perhaps delusional? -- Shane. B." His head tilts in a nod towards the twins. A very faint tightness pinches at the corners of his eyes. "That was -- rather generous of you." Micah's smile broadens at the small kiss, twin blooms of light pink appearing in his cheeks. "S'good t'have you, honey. He ain't delusional, just never gives 'imself enough credit for /anythin'/ ever." His arm curls around Jax's waist and squeezes. "You been eatin' okay? Took your meds on time?" His eyebrows climb just a touch at Shane's sales figures. "Wow, that's good. That's good, right? I been to a couple of these things before for Sam, but I never even pretended t'really know how they work." Releasing his hold on Jax, he moves to kiss each of the twins on the forehead. "That was sweet of you two. I'm off for juice, anybody want anythin' else?" He asks before moving toward a table of refreshments. "I've eaten an' stabbed m'self an' all on time," Jax assures Micah, cheeks still a little flushed. "I jus' still feel kinda horrible." He gives the pups a quick smile, reaching an arm out to squeeze each of them in turn around the waist. "Oh, gosh, that's -- that /is/ sweet of you, m'sure he'll -- be. Proper touched. An' -- yeah, it's. That's good, I -- I don't know what I expected, actually," he admits to Lucien. "I mean, s'been a lotta buzz but that don't necessarily mean -- I mean what draws people here ain't /always/ m'art, y'know?" Peter is hovering near the twins, though somewhat in the background, quietly paying attention to the groups of people he doesn't recognize -- though every so often his eyes drift to one of the paintings, his attention focusing -- he lingers for more than a little while on the portrait of Ian. For someone trying to not stand out, his clothes are poorly selected -- a dark green blazer over a buttoned up gray vest and slacks, with an even darker green tie -- the clothes look uncommonly sharp for something Peter would wear. Every so often, he nervously adjusts the tie. "How much did it cost?" Peter asks Shane, slightly distracted -- his eyes focus on Lucien for a moment, pursing in thought -- then, with a slight flush, searching the room to see if anyone else is with him. His gaze keeps returning to the people who stare at Jax, though. "Cost a bit, generous would've been buying someone /Ryan's/ goddamn painting have you seen what bullshit he's asking for that thing you'd think he painted it with motherfucking diamonds." Shane's grin widens as he returns Jax's hug, tipping his face up to add a small kiss pressed to Jax's cheek along with it. B, meanwhile, is just frowning, leaning back after hir hug to examine Jax /critically/. "Are you dying?" Ze presses hir fingertips to Jax's chin, tipping it down so ze can look into hir pa's eyes steadily. SEARCHINGLY. "/Tss/." Shane hisses sharp. "No fuck you he's just thirsty what is wrong in your brain. Can I have a wine?" he asks Micah. B blushes, looking away towards the door and dropping hir hand to hir side. "... I worry." Ze follows Peter's gaze, brows rumpling as ze watches the people moving through the room. Shane is watching the people in the room, too, eyes drifting towards the door. Then away from it, back to Peter. "See something you like?" His brows lift, at Peter's flush. "It doesn't matter what draws people here. What /keeps/ them here is your talent." Lucien tips a hand outward, towards the nearest painting on the wall. "I suppose," he murmurs to Micah absently, "we shall just have to give the credit /for/ him." A brief hint of amusement crosses his expression at Shane's mention of Ryan's painting, though it is fleeting. He looks instead to Peter, the corner of his mouth hooking slightly upward. "Why, are you interested in art?" Alright, his tone has /more/ than a hint of amusement, here. "Good," Micah declares with an approving nod at Jax's assurances. "Hopefully it's just...nerves. Gettin' all keyed up can make y'feel off sometimes." His hand lifts in a small wave as Peter drifts over to their little group. "Evenin', Peter. Glad y'could make it." There is an almost-snort of laughter at the running commentary about Ryan's painting. "S'got celebrity on it. Makes everythin' more expensive. An' y'know there's gonna be a higher demand, so... Business classes should've covered this for you already." His head shakes in answer to the request for wine. "Not in public with press an' people knowin' you're underage. S'invitin' trouble. Y'can have some after...all of that isn't so much of a concern. I'll bring you juice, too." He finally makes it to the table, returning with a pair of juice glasses to distribute to Jax and Shane. "Always have t'remind 'im how amazin' he is," he replies to Lucien's comment, though his eyes are on Jax as he speaks. "Peter /loves/ art!" Jax chirrups brightly. "S'got nothin' but the deepest respect an' appreciation for what I do." His smile is sunny, here. He takes one of the juice glasses from Micah to lift it in a salute towards Peter. "An' oh, gosh, yeah, Ryan's paintin' -- is jus' in crazy demand so --" He blushes, deep. "Feel almos' dirty only but kinda everyone wants a bit'a that'n ever since --" He shrugs a shoulder, taking a thirsty gulp from the juice glass and /then/ pecking Micah on the cheek. "Thank you, love." There's a young man slipping in from outside -- dressed stylish with the rest of the art-appreciation crowd, slacks and blazer and button-down, he drifts along the perimeter. Nabs himself a glass of wine, lingers near the painting of Taylor and Hope before drifting slowly closer to the group. Like many others in the room his eyes dart over towards Jax at frequent intervals -- curious? Staring? Perhaps unlike many others in the room, these darts of eyes miiight maybe tingle at Peter's danger sense. Tingletingle. "Huh? Oh no I was just -- hi," Peter starts responding to Shane, but quickly takes the opportunity to reply to Micah, instead. His eyes keep flickering back and forth among the people in the room, briefly relaxing. He opens his mouth to respond to Lucien, but when he's cut off by Jax, he flushes instead, deciding not to add to this beyond a slight mutter of "these are okay" -- glancing at the painting of Ian, again. But then, Peter's eyes move to the stylish man near the Taylor and Hope painting, drifting closer. At once, he's reaching out -- very quietly, very gently -- to touch Shane's hip, followed by B's. Nudging their attention toward the man. "{Danger tingling,}" he whispers in calm, but sharp, Vietnamese. "Peter actually told me he was quitting Stark to focus on art instead," B tells the adults earnestly. "It's his new passion in life," Shane chips in with a quick smile. He takes the juice from Micah, stretching up onto his toes to peck his father on the cheek lightly. "Though," B adds, "he's just about as keen on just --" "-- attending events like this." Shane waves a hand around the gallery. "Highlight of his week. Pa, why don't you invite him to /more/ of your stuff?" "It'd really --" B stops short, though, at that nudge, that quiet whisper. Hir eyes shift towards the man, nostrils flaring. Shane glances over, too, head tipping slightly to one side. He looks back to Jax, then to Peter. He pokes another sausage on his plate, nibbling at it as he shifts his weight closer to his dads. "{Should tell Jane,}" B suggests, nostrils flaring again as ze scans the gallery for the security chief. "Desi is quite /enchanted/ with Ryan's painting. She was swooning over it nearly as soon as we arrived." Lucien lifts a hand, fingers curling loosely across his lips as they curl into an amused smirk at the banter between the twins. "It sounds like Jax has been quite an inspiration." There is laughter twinkling in his bright green eyes. His hand drops away from his mouth, arm curling loosely across his chest as his gaze follows the path of the teenagers' towards the -- other painting, and the man who stands near it. "Is everything alright?" "'Welcome, hon," Micah replies to Jax as he hands the drink over. He smiles and runs a hand over Shane's hair-spikes at the kiss. "I'm gonna go out on a limb an' say Peter's not usually the art gallery type?" he half-jokes with one eyebrow ticked upward after all the back-and-forth on Peter's budding career in the arts. A look of concern crosses his features as the others converse in quick Vietnamese, only heightening to an anxious worry when he hears Jane's name mentioned. "What's goin' on?" His tone is hushed not to carry past the immediate group. "We need t'do somethin'?" "I think s'possible Dai an' the pups /may/ possibly have dragged 'im here. Forcibly," Jax answers Micah with a small giggle. It fades into a very faint frown at the whispers, and he curls his arm around Micah's waist, habitually scanning the room. "Hm? Somethin' up? I think Jane's jus' 'round the corner if y'need her. Flicker's here an' --" His brow creases, teeth dragging against his lip. "S'everything -- okay?" The man is drifting closer, no longer overtly watching Jax so much as the paintings on the wall. Staring at the picture of Rachel and Ines. Lingering in front of Liza. He stops a short distance away -- by which time that tingle is probably a /jangle/ as he reaches into the inside of his blazer. Finally now turning back towards Jax as he slips a pistol out from inside it. (There are a couple very undignified screams in the otherwise very dignified gallery.) Peter doesn't respond to B; he doesn't respond to Lucien, Micah, or even Jax. As the tingle intensifies, he moves -- trotting out toward its source, though not directly, as if he was interested in the exhibit next to the one the man was at. His expression, however, is gradually hardening -- focusing -- his eyes not leaving the man. When he reaches into his blazer, Peter is already moving -- breaking into a sprint, a soft THWP lancing out from his left wrist, for the rising gun -- to try and jerk it away. His charge doesn't slow down, regardless -- leaping past the man's left side, another THWP as he aims to web his wrist and yank it behind him, swiftly working to web it on his back in a swelling sheet of webbing -- working to twirl around to the man's opposite side and start rapidly COCOONING him. When Peter starts moving towards the man, Shane just -- facepalms. There's a loud report of gunshot in the moment before the gun is jerked away, though the bullet lodges itself into the ceiling with a shower of plaster. B growls, a low rumble deep in hir throat. Ze moves towards hir dads, abandoning the remainder of hir sparkling cider to Shane to instead grab for Micah and Jax's hands to drag them back-back-back, off towards the corner where Jax had said Jane was. Shane pulls out his phone, now. Almost casual about calling the police as very /abruptly/ the gun is sliced in half by one of Jane's very sharp shields. "-- You can go," the security chief tells Peter, together with a rather grudging, "Good work." B's grip on hir dads is loosening once it seems nobody is going to get shot after all. Hir face is pale, gills fluttery, but slowly ze draws in a breath. "... do you think," ze wonders quietly, "this will hurt sales?" Lucien is, too, considerably paler than he was before. There is a faint sprinkling of plaster dusted on his shoulders that he flicks away with a mild grimace, eyes narrowed off towards Peter and Jane; he's backed away from the scene along with B, lips pressed together in distinct /distaste/. "Help, certainly," is his only mild answer. "Gun," Micah reports softly, a little shocked, simply acknowledging the fact of its existence aloud and informing those near him if they somehow managed to miss the thing. "Jax, we gotta move." He steps in toward his husband, turning and wrapping an arm around him to encourage him /away/ from weapons. His head turns to call after the twins and Peter, not so much to determine what the gunman is up to. B's appearance in front of them is reassuring, though the boys staying back is /not/. "But Shane an' Peter..." Then the scene is abruptly under control, between Peter and Jane. "Oh. Oh, they've. Good." He falters in his steps, turning about more completely but not quite making a decision on where to be now. "You're right. Prob'ly...just make things seem more...interestin'." He shudders, his grip on Jax tightening even further. Jax just curls his arm around Micah, dropping his head forward to rest his forehead against his husband's for a moment. He reaches his other arm around B, squeezing briefly, and looks up, pulling in a deep breath as he ascertains that Shane and Peter are still /okay/. "Ohgosh. Peter --" His head falls in against Micah's shoulder, now, and he squeezes his husband tight again, exhaling a shaky breath. "S'alright now. S'alright." He breathes deep, his voice a little wry. "Shoulda knowed. Ain't /never/ borin'."