"You're far more generous than I am, Miss Benson." Zio grinned, still boyish but now also horribly wicked and teasing. His dark eyes shone with mischief. "But then I get paid to be a horrible snob so no one blinks when I say it can't possibly be a masterpiece if it was done any time before 1850. When I'm in a generous mood." He gave a little wave of his hand, nearly laughing. "But I'm trying to be more open-minded. Not everyone is going to share my taste and, let me tell you, there have been more than a few buyers for those red smears across white canvas... At five to six figures, no less."
He better settled into his seat and gave her a friendly, little nod. "But I'm glad we're not going to have a fight about art," he added. "It would've been really uncomfortable."