Christopher Warrington (![]() ![]() @ 2008-03-16 03:12:00 |
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Current music: | "I'm Like A Lawyer..." - Fall Out Boy |
...last year's wishes are this year's apologies, every last time i come home...
Who: Christopher Warrington & Judith Cellditch (NPC)
What: Purchasing some artwork by a reclusive, oddball artist who's kind of retarded when it comes to blank cheques
When: February, 2008
Where: London
Rating: G
Status: Closed, complete.
True to form, the outside of the Cellditch Galleries was littered with teenagers, more than a few of them strewing cigarette butts by the sidewalk as they snapped gum. A couple of girls giggled behind their hands as they saw the man approach, a redhead leaning over to whisper something in her friend's ear before both of them flushed. A tattered sign in the window was the only sign of installation, reading "Medusa's Bane: Mirrors and the Contemporary Art Form, opening February 14th." Despite the notice, the doors were propped wide open, a few local residents milling through casually.
The atmosphere was hushed. Few pieces adorned the neutral walls and the splash of color that drew the eye most fervently was the shock of violet hair that marred the neutral landscape. The woman belonging to the hair stood in front of a mirror, her arms crossed as she looked up at a thin man, her eyes narrowed as she spoke, the tones of her voice clipped and brusque.
"I know that you want to buy it but he wouldn't sell it if he knew it was you."
"He doesn't have to know, Judith." The man withdrew a chequebook as he was speaking, his fingers searching for a pen in the front of his jacket, a ratty leather coat that had seen better days. "I like the art. I've always liked the art."
"And now you're not getting it for free? Is that it?" Her voice was a hiss. "I said, I'm not selling it to you until after the show's opened. And that's only if no one else offers. You're a collector - go collect yourself somewhere else. I've a show to get up." Judith pressed her hand against him, forcefully taking the check out of his hands, folding it and pressing it back in his pocket. "Have a good day."
The man took a long look at the mirror, then back at her. "He's an unknown. An amateur. You won't get a better offer."
"Well, I'll certainly try." She hissed to his back. With a sigh, the woman pushed her glasses up on her nose and stood in front of the art that was hanging on the wall. Reaching out, she adjusted it slightly but the act was taken simply to touch it one final time. Then she sighed, the sound of it echoing through the halls.
Chris listened to the conversation carefully, then glanced at the piece as the woman reached out to touch it again. It was extraordinary, truly, but it was the face that caught his attention more than the handle, than the rest of it. She moved away, briefly, and he walked toward it, eyes skirting to the side to make sure no one was watching him before he brushed his fingertips over his wand where it rested in his pocket. The charm he cast was simple, harmless - an inquiry, more than anything, to see what it was made of.
And then the face started talking to him.
"I never was really good at maths or the things that she wants me to do. I can't believe I started this. I mean, ringing people out all day? Me. I can't even do bloody addition half the time. Look at that man. He's got all his bills crumpled up in his pocket, I bet. They always do all wadded up. I hate it, it's worse than old women who come up and want to write a check." The voice was young, mouth whispering quickly, the volume dropping slightly as it began to murmur numbers and figures before saying, "I don't know if she ever wonders why I left. I'm just too afraid to call her. And I was never really good at numbers..." Whispers became equations again.
His face remained perfectly composed as the words dissolved into numbers that sounded suspiciously like Arithmancy but weren't quite right and Chris tilted his head to the side, watching the mirror carefully. There were several things about it aside from its innate beauty that made him wonder what in Merlin's name it was doing in a Muggle art gallery - there was no other reflection, just the young man's face while there was no overt movement, he thought he could detect the slightest shift of the eyes to the side.
Turning, he located the proprietor's head of bright purple hair moved toward her. "I beg your pardon, Madam," he began, his expression polite and interested. "I realise the show hasn't started, precisely, but I was wondering if I might enquire as to the price of the mirror over there..." He gestured toward it, letting a smile quirk up the corners of his lips.
"Judith," she said, forcefully taking his hand and wrenching it into a handshake. "Judith Cellditch. Madam's down the street and she's got an entirely different clientele, I promise." Her eyes danced as she noted the mirror he was mentioning, dropping his hand as she said, "Well, I have had an offer for it already but I was planning to bring it to auction. But it won't be deinstalled till Leap Year at the earliest - I want it for our opening."
"Cellditch," Chris murmured, the information suddenly clicking into place. Muggleborn. That might explain the whispering mirror, then, but he wanted to make sure that it was out of sight of Muggles nonetheless - and he wanted to investigate the causes behind the whispering, anyway. He gave her another smile, then nodded and said, "I'm afraid I don't remember you specifically from school, I believe I was probably a few years ahead of you, but you likely had to toil through the same Binns lectures as I did, am I right?"
At least he hoped he was thinking of the right family. At least he hadn't said anything specific, necessarily. "I swear, he could make anyone fall asleep in History..."
Her eyes widened slightly and her head swiveled quickly, then she murmured, "I sort of liked Binns, actually. It's where the interest in art came from. Ravenclaw and all." She smiled back slowly, pulling off her glasses and wiping them with the edge of her shirt, squinting up at him as she continued to talk. "That..." Judith shook her head. "You didn't give me your name."
"Christopher Warrington," he said, then allowed his smile to become just a little rueful. "Slytherin, I'm afraid. It does come with something of a stigma, doesn't it?" Glancing back toward the mirror, he continued, "I am interested in that piece, though. I don't mind waiting for the piece, truly, but I would like to pay for it now, just to ensure that it doesn't get shuffled about. Not that I think it would, per se, but I'm a naturally cautious person..."
He shrugged, eyes turning back toward her as he reached into his pocket, expression earnest. "Whatever the other offer, I'm more than happy to give you however much over it you'd like. In fact..." He paused, frowning down at his pocket, "I've got a note here - you could just... if I could... find it. You can fill in whatever amount you think is fair or reasonable..." Finally finding the Gringotts note, he quirked his head a bit and asked, "Does that sound agreeable?"
It took her a moment to find her voice.
"You do know that... the artist isn't- well, he's barely known. I mean, he doesn't sell many pieces and he's a bit- well, odd." Her mouth twisted slightly as brows furrowed behind her lenses. "If you're absolutely sure... do you mind if I ring him for the price? I hadn't expected two bids, you see, not in one day."
"That's the trick, though, isn't it?" Chris murmured, handing her the Gringotts note and letting his smile widen a bit. "Finding artists who show potential. I'm sure he'll be quite well known some day and then my investment will likely seem inconsequential. But please - ring him. I should very much like to seal the deal, as it were..." In truth, he knew his bank account could handle whatever price the artist happened to name, and he really just wanted to fast-forward a bit so he could figure out what it was that made the mirror do what it did. "I'm more than content to wait, of course. I'm completely at my leisure."
"Step into my office then," she said, a pixie grin on her lips. Taking two steps to the left, she led him past a wall into an empty gallery and tugged a mobile from her pocket. "Excuse me- this will just take a moment, I promise."
Fingers dialing, Judith waited a moment, then said, "It's me. Yes. No, I'm at the gallery. Really... Look, mate, I've got a buyer. Mmm hmm." Cupping her hand over the receiver, she whispered, "He gave me a blank check. Said to name your price." By this point, the woman was hunched over quite far. In response to an obvious question, she glanced over her shoulder and gave Chris an appraising look, then whispered back into the phone. "Yes, yes, he's dressed nice. Mmm hmm. Definitely money.... Wait, what?"
Her face had gone white. "You have got to be kidding me. No, seriously." A pause. "I don't get you. I have a much higher offer. What? Oh, fine. Fine then." Her hands slapped the phone shut and she inhaled slowly. It was obvious that she was grinding her teeth for a moment before she handed the check back to Warrington, with a pen.
"Ten quid," she said abruptly. "He says he won't sell it to you for more."
"Ah..." Chris said, not entirely sure what quids translated into so far as Galleons were concerned. "Well, ten seems a reasonable price. Are... you sure he won't accept more than that?" He wrote it out on the bank note, though, eyeing it for a long moment before handing it back. Ten quid, ten Galleons - did it really make that much of a difference? He didn't really think it would.
"I've a favour to ask, if you don't mind... if the artists puts anything else up for sale or auction, could you notify me? Please?" Perhaps this was a fluke, an accident - or, again, a prank. It was entirely possible. But he couldn't afford to take that chance.
"I could," she paused, then said, "Look. You know what? He's really broke. But he's stubborn about it- if this is about- about what that art does, then there could be a lot of pieces like that floating around the city."
"What it does?" Chris asked, expression bland. "Judith, I'm honestly only interested in the quality of the work - if it happens to have something else, then brilliant... would you mind letting me know where the other pieces are if they turn up? I'd quite appreciate it."
She bit her lip, then said, "Fine. I'll do that. But what I was trying to say is that he's just as bloody likely to hock a piece for a lemon as he is to actually sell the lot. If you're looking, you might try walking around near the Thames. I bet some fat housewife's got a bunch of vases in her window."
If Chris had been the cursing sort, he would have chosen that moment to let a few choice words loose. Luckily, he wasn't, so he just gave the woman a smile and nodded. "I'll keep that in mind, certainly. And the advice is most appreciated." He paused, then arched a sly brow and murmured, "And if that man comes through again, the one you were hoping you wouldn't have to sell the piece to, feel free to tell him any and all pieces by this artist have already been bid upon." His look turned serious as he finished, "I'm behind quite frank when I say I'm interested in the rest of his artwork."
Judith simply shook her head in amazement, touching her glasses lightly. "I'll do that then, Mr. Warrington. Come by on the 29th and I'll have it boxed up. Should I ask him if he's got anything else?"
"If you think he'd be willing to sell it to me, then yes, please do. Otherwise, I suppose I'll take my chances down near the Thames." Chris actually grinned, extending his hand to her one last time for another shake before nodding and walking back into the gallery so he could look at the mirror once more. Fascinating.