Teritus "Wesley Drakon" Venizelos (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} tattooed_skin) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} halcyon_halls, |
ooc: Excuses, excuses :-p. Kidding, I love you!
His lips smushed together, his brow arched, and he gave a little shrug, "I didn't think you would, but you never know." He was teasing her, of course he hoped, and expected her to show up. He would have been disappointed if she hadn't. After all, there were only a handful of people he could tolerate holding a conversation with. His kids, she, and a few students were it. Most of the others... well, they left him wanting to shoot himself in the head. Or with a desire to say something so offensive, that they would walk away, and never return. You had to do whatever would work. "Yeah? Well, I hope so. I'd hate for the first ever Halcyon art show to be a complete flop, because I didn't pick the right wine, or some shit like that."
"I do. Then again, I like you in all states of dress, and undress. So, I might be a bit bias." No, he wasn't the only one who appreciated her outfit. The occasional stares she was getting from the male population of those gathered was proof enough of that. "Well thank you, I actually attempted a look a few throws from my normal scum bag get up. Who knew I owned clothing that wasn't patched?" His nerves were showing, in the way he pretty much insulted himself. Weird, this was his event, and he felt a bit out of place. That was the down side of the art world. The artist were cool as hell, but the buyers made him uncomfortable.
Swishing his drink around, he once more lifted it to his lips. "Thanks, doll." He was glad that she could see all the work he put into everything. Her words were reassuring him, which he did need at the moment, whether he let it be known or not. "Come here, I want to show you what my kid did." He took her free hand in his own, before leading her over to the section where he knew Kat's work to be displayed. He had wanted to keep them together, that way he could stay on top of the bidding. "If the personality wasn't proof enough of our genealogy, her work is." His hand lifted, as he pointed out each of the four paintings his eldest daughter had entered. "The Day of the Dead girl, and skull are going home with me for sure. I'll punch someone if I have to."
His lips smushed together, his brow arched, and he gave a little shrug, "I didn't think you would, but you never know." He was teasing her, of course he hoped, and expected her to show up. He would have been disappointed if she hadn't. After all, there were only a handful of people he could tolerate holding a conversation with. His kids, she, and a few students were it. Most of the others... well, they left him wanting to shoot himself in the head. Or with a desire to say something so offensive, that they would walk away, and never return. You had to do whatever would work. "Yeah? Well, I hope so. I'd hate for the first ever Halcyon art show to be a complete flop, because I didn't pick the right wine, or some shit like that."
"I do. Then again, I like you in all states of dress, and undress. So, I might be a bit bias." No, he wasn't the only one who appreciated her outfit. The occasional stares she was getting from the male population of those gathered was proof enough of that. "Well thank you, I actually attempted a look a few throws from my normal scum bag get up. Who knew I owned clothing that wasn't patched?" His nerves were showing, in the way he pretty much insulted himself. Weird, this was his event, and he felt a bit out of place. That was the down side of the art world. The artist were cool as hell, but the buyers made him uncomfortable.
Swishing his drink around, he once more lifted it to his lips. "Thanks, doll." He was glad that she could see all the work he put into everything. Her words were reassuring him, which he did need at the moment, whether he let it be known or not. "Come here, I want to show you what my kid did." He took her free hand in his own, before leading her over to the section where he knew Kat's work to be displayed. He had wanted to keep them together, that way he could stay on top of the bidding. "If the personality wasn't proof enough of our genealogy, her work is." His hand lifted, as he pointed out each of the four paintings his eldest daughter had entered. "The Day of the Dead girl, and skull are going home with me for sure. I'll punch someone if I have to."