Re: Tony & Pepper
The sensation that this was in fact a terrible idea that had bubbled down to a background simmer with a kiss and a clean shirt and in the penthouse, soared to a full boil the minute the flashes bounced off the outside of the buildings and lit up the evening sky like being stood at the side of the road at the Oscars. From the moment Pepper stepped out into the hushed quiet of the main entrance, the disquiet teeming at the back of her mind stilled, and then slipped cleanly away with the accompanying drop in the background magnetic energy of the lobby. The Museum had the heavy emptiness of a church without congregation, its stillness and solemnity.
Pepper's face lit like a candle put behind glass. The effect was transformative; her eyes glowed and her mouth softened and the look was one of wonder. She took one careful step past him, and then another, the anchor of her hand in his slipping as she tried to contemplate the art without audience, the ability to see without being jostled. The MOMA was countless visits stood in the back of rooms, the serenity of her favorite place in the world.
She had spent years buying art in his name. Years amassing a collection that was envied and desired and referenced longingly any time there was a benefit held in a museum or gallery that could afford to borrow pieces. Years, and she knew Tony didn't appreciate it the way a collector might, didn't see intention and reference and history in a canvas painted perhaps with as little as white paint over linen. But she didn't know he knew how much she loved it.
"Tony," she said, and the word was hushed, full without her saying anything else. It was perfect. It was perfect for all the reasons she'd expected things to go wrong, because he'd doubtless done it with his name and the way he could push things through with that name. Now she turned her head to look at him instead of the promise of the half-dark entrance-way and when she spoke, it was with the pin-prick burn of tears in her nose, disbelief doubling up with fondness and carefully holding back that emotion, said with the uptick of her mouth that was teasing, "What, you couldn't find a restaurant on a Friday night? It's perfect." Her fingertips brushed his chest, her lips touched his cheek.