Quentin was cocky when it came to his art, he wasn't going to lie about that. He happened to know that he was a good artist and that it was something he loved to do in his life, the only thing he could imagine himself doing. Unbeknownst to him, it was his fae gift, so of course he'd be badass at it. He wasn't so good at the whole marketing/meeting people part, but it was the only way he was ever going to get his name out there and he had to try. At least here he didn't have the fact that he was a James hanging over his head, like it was a tragedy that the fuckup son was working on his art instead of following Daddy Dearest out at the marina.
Seeing the guy approaching, Quentin smiled, snatching his keys out of the air and trying to stuff them in his pocket. It didn't really work, and so he held onto them instead, so he had his keys in one hand and his portfolio in the other. He was quick to pass the portfolio over, so the keys wouldn't be as noticeable. It was just habit from years of managing his telekinesis in ways so it would be harder to spot. "It's amazing what this guy's done with the negative space, it says so much," Quentin said, chuckling. "You almost get overwhelmed by it."
He grinned, "And yes, I'm enjoying the place. It's my first time in, I've been meaning to stop by for a while now. I'm Quentin James."