It was about high time Quentin did some actual leg work for his art. He'd gotten one commission since moving to Michigan, and that was great and all, but it wasn't exactly getting his name out there. His art was one of the few things he could actually convince himself to work on, and since his website was now up and running, it was time to see what was actually here. Lauren had mentioned that there was a gallery in town somewhere, so Quentin headed out, portfolio and sketchbooks in tow, and went to go looking for it.
Since this was Quentin, it took him almost an hour and a half of driving to finding the place, but finally he was there: Panorama. Art galleries always made his inner artist happy and bouncy, as evidenced by the fact that his car keys wouldn't go back into his pocket, spinning idly around his fingers instead. If by chance the owner of the gallery had a problem with him being a telekinetic, then that was one way to figure out they wouldn't be able to work together. If he even ran into the owner, anyway, because right now the place looked to be pretty quiet. And there was a lot of empty space. This could bode well for him, all things considered.
Still, he started to take a look around, trying to get a feel for what kind of art the place already had in place. Comparing it to his own work, of course. What artist wouldn't?