Aha, he had been correct in his assumptions; Miss Clark hailed from wealth, breeding, and class. Not that he was often wrong but a thrill was a thrill, nonetheless. With a smile, Zio moved to stand closer to the piece which had so captured his guest's attention. Alert to her view, he kept to one side and offered her his profile, neatly splitting his gaze between art and woman. "I have to admit," he chuckled, "I'm not generally one for modern art either. You'll notice this is the only abstract piece in the whole apartment. I just don't understand it as well as the grand old masters, you know. I like my heart's anguish to be a tidy little story and not a smear of color."
He shrugged and motioned towards the scribbled signature towards the bottom right corner. "But what can you say when the artist insists you take it as a thank you." His words were dry and mild but she could see some humor in his sparkling black eyes. "I tell you right away that I didn't deserve it. I just told my boss this artist was the only one in the batch who had talent."
Turning back to her, Zio tilted his head slightly. "Chinese pieces?" he repeated. "That must be an interesting specialty to have. Did you have any leaning towards that or have you always preferred the living beauty of flowers?"