Stella Shaw; Bela Talbot (a_great_thief) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2010-10-08 11:23:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | bela talbot, sam winchester |
WHO: Stella and Kyle
WHAT: “We meet again” (Des does a lot of these kind of logs apparently)
WHERE: Stella’s currently empty art gallery
WHEN: Um, sometime before the Joker plot
WARNINGS: None
Stella’s heels walked across the floor of her currently empty, but not silent, gallery. The paint had dried but the scent still lingered so she left the front door open, letting the smell out and the sounds of the busy city in. Although she had to admit, even with the door closed, some of the noise would have seeped through the large glass display window in the front anyway.
The sign outside said it was a gallery (Shaw Fine Arts) but there wasn’t anything that was on display. Not yet. The paintings and statues that would soon be displayed were still locked away, not yet ready for public viewing and consumption. The gallery opening was still a ways away. At the moment, the only thing on display was Stella herself, a long and lean figure in red in a series of white rooms with white lights to match. Beyond that was the light brown of the hardwood floor, the black of her heels, and the bright orange of the post-its she was marking and leaving on the walls. The movers had to know where to put everything somehow.
The sound of occasional footsteps up and down the sidewalk caught her attention but they were dismissed quickly. It was only when a set found its way through her doorway that she turned to see who was there.
Kyle was intrigued now that Stella was in town, or rather now that he knew she was in town. Running into her at the charity ball had definitely piqued her interest and he was honestly curious what she was up to, if anything.
He’d done some leg work, it hadn’t taken long to find out where her gallery was, or when it would be opening. He thought he’d pay her a little visit, just to shoot the shit, and to see if any of the pieces she was displaying were actually acquired legally. He’d been knee deep in homicide, tortured teenagers, graffiti artists, vigilantes and all manner of serious troubles. Stella would be a good distraction.
He stood in the doorway watching her, his hands in his jacket pockets, holding a wide stance and smirked when she turned around, he didn’t bother with pleasantries, “I find out you’re in town opening an art gallery...Try to keep me away,” he said not threateningly, it was just fact.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Stella’s smile was wide and bright, her usual response to the smirk that Kyle was giving her. She had known he’d show eventually after she let it slip that she was setting roots in the city. She was expecting him closer to the gallery opening itself. Maybe she shouldn’t have had the painters put up her name outside so soon.
“Is it time for the usual question and answer song and dance routine? It’s a good thing I’m wearing the right shoes.” Her left heel daintily shifted, drawing the eye to the long lines of her legs, even if her dress stopped a little above her the knees. Intentionally, of course. Flirting was also part of the routine.
That smile that was wide and bright was also the smile of someone ruthless and deceptive and as calm as Kyle was he was wary. He stepped further into the space and looked around, “Buying or selling or both, Stella?” he asked taking note of just about every single detail. “Or stealing?” he said only half serious.
The truth was he didn’t have a warrant, he didn’t have probable cause to get a warrant, but he knew Stella. And she knew him. They’d either both leave this conversation scared or satisfied. Probably a bit of both.
“‘Stealing’ he says.” Stella’s lips curved into a pout right as her nose turned up. “In case you haven’t noticed Kyle, there’s nothing here to steal.” She took slow and careful steps toward him as she gestured to the bare walls and the empty gallery, the echo of her heels announcing that there was nothing here at all. “Everything here is mine. Bought and paid for. Right down to the last post-it.” She tapped the pad in her hand against his arm playfully, although there was a steely edge in her gaze that spoke of a serious streak.
Assumptions were one thing, she could deal with that. But he was early in making his rounds. She was currently completely legit, but he’d be watching, and much harder than she expected. “So what are you here for? Interrogation or catch up? Or both?”
He looked at her like he wasn’t buying it for a minute, “What about what will be here?” he asked chuckling a bit. “Or is this some kind of new gallery with no art?” though with the way art seemed to define itself in ways no one understood, he was pretty sure someone had opened an empty art gallery somewhere and gotten tons of money for it.
“Both,” he said shrugging, “I mean, I can’t interrogate you too hard, there will be nothing to talk about once you do break a law, but coming by for catch up with the one that got away, now that’s not too desperate or anything.” And by one that got away he certainly wasn’t talking about romance. At all.
She wasn’t thinking about romance either, but still there was that delicious satisfaction to know that he still thought of her. She did like to make an impression. “Art will be here eventually. I need to decide on where to put it first.” Hence the post-its, which she waved again before casting a glance to the ones currently stuck on the wall. A thought struck her and she moved away from him, making a bee line toward an empty space on the wall.
“Still a cop then,” she asked although she didn’t turn her head or change direction. She called him a detective and acted like he was one because that’s how she knew him to be. She wasn’t surprised that he was though. She just wanted to be absolutely certain.
“Just waiting to win some ebay auctions then?” he asked keeping his eyes trained on her as she crossed the room. He had no idea what she was doing, and he certainly didn’t have any sense of where to put things. His apartment was efficient, and that was the long and short of it. He would leave designing art galleries, that may or may not be housing stolen art, to Stella.
He nodded, “Still a cop,” he answered. “Leopards can’t change their spots,” he said giving her a pointed look.
“Mmhmm,” she hummed in assent, a quick and elegantly scribbled name on her note before sticking it to the wall. “My vintage pez dispenser collection will be here any day now. I can feel it.” She wheeled around to catch that pointed look and she gave him one of her own.
“Good thing I’m not a leopard then.” She folded her hands over her chest although she kept her expression soft, casual, or as much as she could manage. “This is an awful lot of trouble if it wasn’t all legit.”
“I bet you overpaid on shipping,” he countered. And completely ignored her look, mostly because he was sure no matter how legit her art gallery was, she was up to something. Just like he couldn’t not be a cop, there was no way she could stop being a criminal.
Unfortunately he was also out of feline metaphors and he shrugged a bit, “I’ve seen you go to more trouble for less,” he said smirking, “Better be careful no one else catches wind of how soft you’ve gone.”
“I wanted it here quickly,” she quipped easily, mock defensively, as if this was an actual scenario.
He had a point and it was her turn to shrug, but she had a smirk of her own on her lips. “People change, West. Maybe you should too.” Maybe he should stop snooping around hoping for a clue. Maybe she should stop dreaming.
“It’s ebay, there’s no such thing as fast shipping,” he replied.
He shook his head, “Too much effort,” he said easily. And it was, the closest he was willing to come to change was stepping through the portal.
“Isn’t that the truth,” she said with a slight shrug, her only concession that she hadn’t changed at all. “Well, if you’re looking to find something, you’re not going to find it here.” Steady steps lead her away from him to the desk in the next room, the only piece of furniture in the gallery. It too was sparse except for a small stack of papers - her inventory list - and a smaller stack atop of it. Business cards, and she picked up one before moving back and handing it to him.
“Come by next month. After my opening. Then I’ll actually have something for you to glare at and pretend you’re interested in, before you try to accuse me of being up to something.” Stella knew the drill all too well.
He looked at the business card and slipped into his jacket pocket and nodded, “I love having things to glare at,” he said nodding at her. “And I love accusing you of being up to things, this is the beginning of something beautiful Stella,” he started to walk toward the door, “Take care, be good, and get something on these damn walls,” he smirked a bit before he walked out of the gallery. Somehow none of that made him feel better at all, it was definitely time for a drink.