Re: Sam/Eames: art class
Sam laughed, yeah? It was a belly laugh, a bark, something loud and unpretty, and she smiled a gappy smile at him once her belly had stopped jiggling with the laughter. "Yeah, nah, that isn't how it works. I'm not gonna answer your questions, baby, so you're better off just talking than asking. I don't got answers." Sam hadn't ever really thought about what was most important about art or about anything else, huh? She probably had some understanding of it down in her gut, but she didn't have like words or thoughts built up to explain. Money, tho, that was something she knew. She understood rich people and wannabe rich people, but, nah, he wasn't gonna get any deep thoughts about the meaning of art from her. She could parrot some shit remembered from a book along the way, or about the paintings hanging in the gallery she worked in, but that wasn't her thoughts.
"Yeah? I'm glad you don't need beautiful shit or flattery, because you won't get either from me." She offered that truth with a youthful smile on lips smeared lacquer red over teeth that were defiantly white in the face of an upbringing that hadn't prized the toothbrush. "Just take it at face value, huh? Or go sit in a theory class." Someone, somewhere, would eventually attach all kinds of meaning to the shit she put on canvas. She knew that, because that's what people did, but Sam didn't think that actually had ANYTHING to do with the painting, huh? That was just people playing shrink or whatever.
She put her brush down. Murphy was done for now, and she looked over at F Eames, giving him full attention for the first time in this entire conversation. "Ok. I'll send you a card for my show at the cafe, yeah? Once it opens." She hadn't called the guy who Cris had worked out the wall space with yet, but she would do it this weekend sometime. "We'll see if Murphy makes the cut." She didn't have a theme or anything yet, but she'd figure it out soon. She wasn't hella worried about it, because Sam just wasn't the type of person to worry about shit happening in the future. Life was NOW, this moment, and whatever was gonna happen would happen.
"Thanks for the eyeball, Feames." She ran the initial and the surname all together: Feemes. And she tipped her chin up and gave him a smile that was all youthful smartass.