fandomtownies | The York Gallery; Wednesday [ 09/17 ] -- Exhibit Opening! 8pm onward.

The past few weeks of work were finally coming to a head, and Charlotte was both nervous and excited and getting herself worked up into a frenzy with making sure everything was perfect. She couldn't help feeling an overwhelming sense of satisfaction with the exhibit, though. The turnout wasn't huge, but nicely manageable and thankfully not small by any measure. Some of the work was a bit amateurish, but she had to admit to being pretty blown away by a few of the others.

By the time eight o'clock rolled around and the doors were open, the gallery was set up in a display of the pieces by artist, and the usual spread of treats and drinks were available in another area of the room. Charlotte, dressed in a vibrant red, milled around the gallery to make sure everything was in order and all the guests were enjoying the exhibit. She was also keeping an eye out for the artists of certain pieces, since she was very eager to potentially meet them.

The Community Showcase Exhibit was open!

[[ ~~or will be, once I get the very extensive OCD up!~~ It's up! Enjoy! ]]

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"Yep." Katchoo took a sip from her drink. "Didn't actually see her when I dropped this off, though."

"Yeah, me--" But Cal stopped the idle observation he was about to make, realizing that he almost made it pretty damn clear who the anonymous submission was from. "Well, I mean, I always come to these things, but I've never really paid much attention to the person who owns the place. Pretty neat idea, though, opening it up to local artists."

"From the look of the place right now, you'd think the island breeds 'em or something," Katchoo remarked. "Kinda nice, getting to display stuff without having to suck up or suck . . . somethin' for it."

And that would be Cal's eyes drifting toward the gallery owner again for a moment and then promptly giving his head and those thoughts a shake. There were other thoughts, but none that he was stupid enough to voice to Katina.

"I'll bet," was all he managed after sorting through his possible responses and deeming that one as the only appropriate one that would get him glared at.

He expected to still be glared at, just not as hard.

And indeed, relatively speaking it was a soft glare. Softish.

"Not that I've actually had to do that," she felt the need to clarify.

"Oh," Cal said, nodding slightly. "Of course not."

Who was he, of all people, to judge her if she had, anyway?

It wasn't so much the judging she'd worry about; she'd just brush that off, repress it, something or other if it meant she didn't have to think about it.

Well. It wasn't the judging of 99.6% of the world she was worried about. The 99.6% that wasn't Francine.

"Better remember that," she said gruffly.

"Oh," Cal held up his hands in a muted gesture of defense, "believe me. For how much I plan on spending my time thinking about you prostituting yourself for your art, believe me, I'll make sure not to forget. Because it's going to be that present in my thought process in the long future ahead."

Maybe -- likely -- the word choice wasn't intentional, but Katchoo's eyes sparked. "There's no prostituting," she growled through clenched teeth. "Don't even think about it."

Cal could recognize a line when he stepped across it, especially when he was dancing on that fine line of definition himself, and he felt a red rush of regret fill his face at Katina's expression. His hands were still held up, more genuinely now, but he tried to pass it off as still light. "I'm not," he said. "Don't worry, okay?"

He really, really wasn't. It was just sometimes he couldn't help himself, and, really, he knew that this was actually the last sort of thing he'd want to talk about anyway, all things considered.

Her shoulders didn't slump, exactly, but a little of the tension bled out of Katchoo's posture. She took a breath, but instead of saying anything just nodded, her gaze straying to the sketch again.

"I'll just...go look at some other things, now," Cal decided, lips pulled together a bit sheepishly, and, hands shoved in his pockets, he went to go do just that. And, despite his claims, he couldn't help thinking about it, just a little bit, and wondering if maybe there was a terrible, unfortunate common thread there. He got the firm impression that, even if there was, Katina had absolutely no interest in ever bothering with it.

The York Gallery; Wednesday [ 09/17 ] -- Exhibit Opening! 8pm onward.

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