Belief is a Beautiful Armor (Nicoleta/Ludwig)

[Nicoleta]

Church.

Church—the temple of salvation, where the damned and the sinners crawl on their knees to seek a quarter for their delicate souls. Within all the sermons and hymns, there is optimism and hope. An image of heaven is painted by the resplendent octaves and pitches from the lungs of the choir. The harmony of voices created sweetness in the air, a sense of tranquility and bliss to restore faith to those with a laden heart. They praised Jesus Christ, the Savior, the King through their passion-heated lyrics. And when they finished the hymn, the sagely priest gestured for everyone to rise.

All at once, those within the cathedral obediently rose by his command. Thus, Mass continued on. The priest’s sermon was ah, one that was filled with gusto. His energy, strength, and unwavering faith possessed a sort of vigor that bellied his age, as exemplified in the wrinkles of his complexion. But he was a man who spoke of God’s unparalleled power of Divinity, from his heart to the heart’s of the burdened who sat on the wooden pews. His message was clear, his message was uplifting, full of clarity and a sense of buoyancy. Through him, heaven spoke to the people.
How dull.

And then it was her turn. Dressed in a conservative long-length dress, a short-haired woman walked up to the podium. A woman, she was, with florid cheeks, plump maroon lips, and daunting dark eyes. When she reached the podium, she placed a hand on the parchment with the lyrics before her, her long ruby nails scratching its surface ever so slightly. To the audience, she feigned a smile, a crooked smile, as she took a second to gander at her audience with a sharp eye.

There he was.

The corners of her lips curled upward to form a coy smile as she lifted up her arms to signal her start. And so she sang those songs about God and Love in a form of an a capella. Her voice was chilling and beautiful as the high octaves reverberated against every crook and nanny of the cathedral. When the pitch went down a few notes, it slid down, glided down so smoothly, so softly, gentle as the fluff of a feather. The sinner was singing, praising the Lord with an empty heart, standing there and pretending to be pure as her voice. But she knew, from the blacks of her soul that she did not belong.

It was the last song before the closing too, fortunately. Nicoleta waltzed to the pew where she was sitting, around four rows in front of a certain German man. Neatly, she sat down to listen to the rest of the evening mass. She exhaled, muttering a bit of rueful words in Romanian underneath her breath as she glanced at her watch. Jesus, one session was much too long. She had only been this Sunday’s cantor because the usual one was busy. The woman took a note to avoid taking up this task were the opportunity to ever arise.

Tick. Tock. Tick.

They were told to stand up again. Again.

Simultaneously everyone rose. Again.

It was systematic. That's what theology was all about.

Nicoleta closed her eyes as the vexation crept up her veins. She gripped the wooden handle as she turned to the side to quietly exit down the aisle. She was done here. God did not want her any longer.

When she pushed the wooden twin-doors, out into the evening of the setting sun, she drew in a deep breath of cold and brisk air. Something about being in a church for too long was like being in a room full of an intoxicating poison. The Romanian rubbed her neck and cleared her throat before reaching into her bag to produce a cell phone.

Well, she didn’t want to lure him out this way, but perhaps this worked too. In a couple of taps, she gave Ludwig Beilschmidt an unknown call. A busy man of the government should answer his calls, wherever he may be. Outside might just be the best place to speak to him instead of that damned hellhole that disguised itself as a sanctum.

[Deleted]

Religion gave many people comfort, and for many different reasons. Some took solace in knowing that if they attended regularly and followed the advice of the scriptures, they'd spend an eternity in heaven following death. Some liked the sense of community a shared belief created. Still others took joy from spreading the words of God through speech or song. Ludwig could understand those reasons, but he wasn't seated in a pew at Saint Paul's for any of them. He could feel his reason spot him every so often, when a random pair of bored eyes went searching around the church and settled on him in recognition. Drawing a long, slow breath, Ludwig kept his eyes focused on the priest at the front.

While his family had not been especially religious, Ludwig had still been brought to church regularly as a child. He remembered disliking it, for the most part: he had to wear uncomfortably fancy clothes, and the sermons always lasted far too long -- although as far as he could tell, the latter still held true. It had been at least fifteen minutes since any part of today's service had registered in his mind. The temptation to let his eyes wander, to examine more closely the beautiful decorations and sculptures and paintings surrounding him was absolutely terrible. Ludwig, however, had a certain public image to uphold, and that image involved attending church regularly and not looking bored to tears.

Always unwilling to simply sit still and not do anything, the politician had found a solution. Even during services, churches could be some of the quietest and most peaceful buildings on Earth, and offered Ludwig a unique opportunity for him to shut out everyone else and simply think. He had too much on his mind most days, and never enough time to parse through his thoughts the way he wanted to. There was an education measure someone had asked him to reword, for one. Ludwig didn't want the measure passed, so he'd need to rewrite it, but in a less obsequious way that didn't hide how terrible it actually was. And a recent nasty traffic accident had a lot of people angry about the lenient punishments for law-breakers. That would have to be brought to discussion.

The only downside to using a church service as time for reflection was that it tended to make Ludwig look rather dazed. Only God could read his thoughts, though, and God would understand how busy Ludwig could be.

A rustle through the attending patrons drew Ludwig out of his own mind: a woman had stood up to sing. The words meant little to him, but the singer had a lovely voice, and Ludwig let himself enjoy the music while it lasted. Once she had finished, the woman returned to her seat and Ludwig returned to the inside of his own head, rising and murmuring responses with the rest of the congregation without a second thought. When at last it was over, Ludwig straightened his suit jacket and let out a quiet sigh of relief.

As he made his way to the doors, he got waylaid by people here and there, men and women wanting to praise him for his work or lecture him about what he was doing wrong or complain about the state of the economy or the minimum wage or kids these days. Ludwig did his best to reply and answer and console; this part of political life was never something he'd been especially proficient at. But miraculously, just as he was wishing he could make his way outside for some fresh air, the inside pocket of his jacket started buzzing loudly. With a half-smile, he excused himself from the crowd of people and pulled out his phone as he was waving his goodbyes.

Ludwig immediately frowned: the phone's screen displayed 'Unknown Caller' as opposed to the name of a coworker or a friend. Still, it was an excuse not to shake hands and be chummy, so he answered the call and held the phone to his ear, "Hello, Beilschmidt speaking."

[Nicoleta]

Target sighted.

Nicoleta turned away, ending the call and subtly putting it away in her purse. It only took a single phone call to rip the government official away from the safety of the church. That was a nice thought. She walked towards him and gave him a smile. Ludwig was his name if she could recall the basic details. All she knew was that he was German and so she wasn’t surprised at his appearance. He was good looking, tall, sturdy and burly. Those blue eyes looked so cold and calculating, but she was confident that she could find the rift.

"Hello there,” She greeted in a pseudo-friendly tone. “I think I recognize you from somewhere before. The television, isn’t it—or the telly, however the people around here call it.”

A short laugh. Well it wasn’t the best way to get their attention but it was perhaps the only way on these hallowed grounds. Her particular finesse was working in the nighttime, shrouded in the safety and mystery of an alleyway or a private room. Here, out in the daylight, she’d have to play her game to be a bit more chaste for this to be a clear cut.

[Deleted]

"…hallo?" A click, and then a dial tone from his phone. Confused, Ludwig lowered the phone from his ear: the screen had gone blank. With a frown, he put the phone back in the front pocket of his suit jacket. Perhaps it had been a wrong number, or an attempted prank call. In that case, it was for the best the caller had hung up: Ludwig would have been irritated to have something so meaningless sap up his time. While he couldn't exactly get away with lecturing people over the phone, perhaps they wouldn't have recognized him.

Heading down the church steps to walk to his car, Ludwig suddenly found his path blocked by an attractive young woman. A second of examination revealed her to be the same woman who'd sang the song during the service not a few minutes ago. She obviously had some natural talent; the song had been lovely. Ludwig quickly put on his public face and prepared to be asked for a donation. He already gave a portion of his money to the church each year… and that would be his excuse. But the woman didn't actually ask anything like that.

"Oh," Ludwig replied, a bit caught off guard. "Oh… yes, I've been on the 'telly' a few times." He gave a rather humorless laugh, still waiting for the woman to say what ever she wanted to say. Something about the encounter made him feel nervous, and he found himself glancing out of the corners of his eyes, looking for paparazzi or dark unmarked cars. Was this some kind of set-up? Should he be concerned for his safety?

"Is there something you wanted to talk to me about, miss?" he asked after a moment, no longer content with waiting silently. "Sorry to be so direct, but I just have other appointments to keep," he explained. It was a half-truth; on a Sunday like this, the only appointments Ludwig had were with himself. But that free time was incredibly precious, because he got so little of it as is.

[Nicoleta]

To that response, Nicoleta gave him a muted smile, one that was empty, hollow but was formed out of courtesy. The eyes were wide open though, keen and deadly alert. Were it a true smile, her eyes would've reflected with the same genuine intensity. But was a smile that had often been practiced; she was confident in what she was doing. "Ah, where are my manners? My name is Rosa, secretary directly under Earl A. Powell the third, Director of the National Gallery. It is a pleasure to meet you." She extended her hand for a handshake and shook it firmly once he took it. Afterward, she nicely placed a hand over the other in front of her, looking as prim as a nun. "Sorry--I suppose what I said earlier was a terrible phrase to get your attention." Nicoleta chuckled nervously, feigning a blush as she diverted her eyes away from him. Then her smile returned as she returned her attention to him with eager and honest eyes. "The life of a politician is never easy. Always on, around the clock," Nicoleta nodded once as if she empathized him. "The community knew about your attendance - at least, the ones in the Cathedral's lobby did before mass started. With that in mind, Director Powell had suggested me to give out invitations a few weeks prior--yet one of the important members had decided not to go for reasons I do not know. Therefore, I am wondering if you'd like to take an opportunity to attend an art gala to raise awareness for charity?" She then promptly took out an official-looking envelope with the silver imperial stamp on the upper left hand corner and gave it to him. Nicoleta rubbed the back of her neck weakly. "I-I'm really sorry for pushing this all in. I will be honest and say that we really need an even amount of people. Seeing you was simply pure luck!" Ugh, how annoying. She hated being this... expressive. For now, she was just hoping that this response was at the right enough pace to compel him to stay.

made by FLOU of OTE.

[Deleted]

Somewhat relieved that his urgency had been met with a smile, Ludwig took the offered hand and shook it solidly. Of course he could tell that this Rosa's smile wasn't genuine, but politics had immunized him to such practices. "Pleased to meet you, Rosa," he responded, and when the subject of the national gallery came up, he looked just a bit more alert. Ludwig genuinely enjoyed museums, and while history and science were his preferred subjects, the National Gallery in London had an excellent art collection. Each year he visited it at least twice, not including the occasional functions he was invited to attend there.

"Don't apologize; it's quite all right," he reassured Rosa quickly. "People are usually so much more direct. Maybe I've just lost my sense for common courtesy." But the woman didn't seem bothered any longer by his initial curt reply, so Ludwig supposed his apology had done the trick. He'd have to be a little more forgiving towards strangers in the future. The sympathy he got on top of the kindness just made his Sunday a little better. This lady obviously wanted something from him, but just the extra emotional generosity -- something he usually never got -- was quite sweet.

As Rosa continued to speak, Ludwig rested his hands inside the pocket of his jacket and listened. He wasn't surprised the church knew about his attendance; he sometimes called in advance to make sure he wouldn't be interrupting a wedding ceremony or a christening. An art gala to raise awareness for charity… Ludwig thought about it for a moment. It would be for a good cause, of course, and it would hopefully be an enjoyable event. It would also put him in a place where he could speak to potential campaign donors… maybe get some powerful people on his side to back the legislation he wanted to pass. Taking the envelope from the woman, he slid it open with a thumb and examined the invitation inside. Everything seemed to be in order.

So Ludwig made up his mind.

"An even amount of people," he mused aloud, double-checking the date. "I'm ninety-nine percent sure I can come… I don't expect to be busy this particular evening." Sliding the invitation back in the envelope, he tucked it securely in his pocket and offered a small and similarly courteous smile to Rosa, "Let me double-check today, and I'll send my official reply in tomorrow. Thank you very much for the invitation. I suppose I'll see you there?" He offered a hand to shake on the arrangement, simply another courtesy in a conversation already full of them.

[Nicoleta]

Of course, she didn't need to apologize. Still she forced a weak smile just to feign relief from the reassurance. "Ah. That's how the people of London can be sometimes. So terse at times with business. Other times, excessively polite. Don't worry, you're not the only one." At least with this, it came from the heart. The English were still a strange bunch to her, despite the fact that she had been living in London for a while. Something about their mannerism--it could be seen as pompous or endearing. "Really? That's wonderful." She perked up, pleased that he had fallen for it. Good thing she didn't come up with a more grandiose ploy, otherwise she'd use up more effort than needed. Then again, the substance of this mission was very lax. Nicoleta had already deemed this as the most menial task she had ever taken up. "I really hope that one percent won't get the best of us. But yes, you will see me there. Maybe we can share a drink or two." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and curled her finger delicately against the side of her neck. Goodness gracious, she was just pulling off moves from a B-rated American Romantic comedy. Sick. "If you have any questions... ah." The woman quickly pulled out a small notepad and then scribbled on it with a pen. When she finished, she tore around the neat numbers and then handed it to him. Dammit, she should've made some faux business cards for this occasion. "I would have my business card, but I had forgotten." One last smile. "I shouldn't keep you up. Mr. Beilschmidt."

made by FLOU of OTE.

[Deleted]

"Thank goodness I'm not alone in that, then," Ludwig replied, relieved that Rosa appeared to be so easy-going. True, he occupied the higher status, and in the traditional roles of social hierarchy, she should have been the one bending over backwards to convince him. But he'd never been especially fond of such constraints. Talking to someone on a more equal level just came a bit easier. Turning his attention back to the conversation at hand, Ludwig nodded quickly to the young woman, and added, "I'll let you know as soon as I can." He knew it was a bit of a bland promise; charity events didn't outrank work in priority. Rosa, however, probably knew that. Ludwig took the paper she offered and, after carefully folding it, stowed it in his jacket pocket next to the invitation.

"As long as I've got a way to call you, right? That's what counts," he returned lightly. "But just in case, here." He kept a ready supply of his business cards in his wallet, and passed her one in exchange. As spontaneous as the meeting had been, Ludwig felt optimistic. The woman had been friendly and to the point, and now he had an entertaining dinner in his future. If only more people could be as politely succinct, his own life would be much easier.

"Oh-" The polite smile returned to Ludwig's face as Rosa said her goodbyes, and he answered. "Don't worry. And thank you for the invitation. Have a good day." He waited a cursory few seconds before taking the initiative and, with a wave to the young woman, continued the beeline he'd been making for his car. He had a few precious free hours left yet, and wasn't about to let those go to waste.

Once Ludwig arrived home, the invitation went right on his desk, to be dealt with as soon as Sunday ended and Monday officially began. And once he did rediscover the message, Ludwig felt perfectly satisfied that he'd been right about his schedule: the night of the art gala remained blank in his day planner. He'd called Rosa back to let her know he'd be attending, scratched a reminder down in his calendar, and had let the matter drop completely out of mind. No matter what events arose in his life, Ludwig considered his job his highest priority. The art gala and the young woman completely slipped from his mind until the day of the actual event. Thankfully, Ludwig didn't have to do much to get ready after returning home from work. After a nice hot shower and a careful reaffixing of his hairdo, Ludwig put on a nice shirt and suit and made his way to the nearest bus stop, catching a ride into the heart of the city to the address listed on the invitation.

To his surprise, Ludwig realized he'd been to this gallery before for a photography exhibit, some years ago. The building had obviously been dressed up a bit for the event, and there were men and women in evening wear gathered outside on the sidewalk chatting. Here goes, Ludwig steeled himself and, putting on his best public face, carefully worked his way into the crowd, shaking hands and greeting people. He liked this part of politics the least, mainly because it got so dull. Hardly anyone had anything new to say: the conversations on their lips always revolved around the latest problems or announcements in the news, and Ludwig couldn't honestly linger to find out whether or not the discussion would lead to something more substantial. He was obligated to make the rounds first, and at least this time, he had a mission: his narrowed blue eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for the face of the woman who'd stopped him outside the church. She should be here, shouldn't she?

[Nicoleta]

The evening called for dark, regal colors. Navy blue, dark maroon, royal purple--whatever colors the wealthy ladies thought were flattering on them. There was the occasional white, cream, and lighter spring gowns, but the colors were usually lost in the monochromatic sea of black suits and dark dresses. Nicoleta blended right in like a shadow, but had the poise of a duchess. Her dark auburn hair was combed into a prim up-do. A set of diamond earrings and a precious diamond-bejeweled necklace were her accessories of choice. Perhaps the only part of her true personality was in the smokey make-up she had on. The black, Christian Dior gown hugged to the curves of her body before it elegantly flared outward from knee down. It was a good chemistry of sexy and sophisticated--at least, that's what her 'co-worker' said. To be frank, she was probably one of the more humbly dressed that night. Nothing too fancy. Nicoleta just wanted to get the job done. She didn't belong in here, where the wealthy basked in their extravagance recklessly. In reality, she was the dirt under their feet. With a wine cup held in her black gloved hands and a seek black leather clutch in the other, Nicoleta looked up over the crowd expectantly. And there, she caught two blue eyes that were doing the same. The Lynx cut through the chattering crowd and casually approached the man. With a raise of a brow and a simper, she greeted as she pressed her , "You look particularly dashing tonight, Mr. Beilschmidt. I am glad you could make it."

made by FLOU of OTE.

[Deleted]

All of the women at the event seemed to be wearing the same dark colors, and it took Ludwig a full minute of searching before he chanced to lock eyes with the one who had invited him. Shouldering his way gently through the crowd as Rosa did the same, the politician met her in the middle and waited for her to free one of her gloved hands before shaking it gently. While the other women seemed almost dowdy in their dark clothes and at least one of them appeared to have dressed for a funeral by accident, Rosa put Ludwig more in mind of a panther. Something slightly predatory emanated from her body language - at least until she opened her mouth.

"You look particularly dashing tonight, Mr. Beilschmidt. I am glad you could make it."

Ludwig felt his ears redden just slightly. He'd never been fond of compliments, mostly because he had no idea how to deal with them. He'd showered and changed before he came to the gallery, of course, but he showed up in the same state of dress to work every morning and got called far less kind things. Still, protocol was protocol, and he faked a small laugh, before answering in good humour, "Save your compliments for someone more deserving of them, I think. You look lovely, Ms. Rosa, thank you again for your kind invitation." He couldn't recall her last name… she'd given it to him earlier, hadn't she? The last thing Ludwig wanted to do was offend someone.

"So I take it you've been busy arranging all of this, then?" Ludwig went on, gesturing to the paintings on the walls, of which only the tops of the frames were visible over the heads of the people crowding the gallery. "How has the turn-out been, if you don't mind my asking?" The art gala was for charity, after all; that had been the better part of Ludwig's reason for attending. If the gala failed to make back in donations what had been spent on the festivities, it would be a genuine shame. Ludwig snatched a glass of wine from the tray of a passing waiter and half-smiled to the woman standing across from him.

[Nicoleta]

"No need to be so modest. I usually mean what I say." Nicoleta replied warmly with a smile, one that was partially fueled by the inward amusement at her own words. The rest of that smile was honestly a natural reaction to Ludwig's flush. The rosen color on his pale skin was a charming thing to see. She would think that men of his composure and constitution would boast about their appearance with gusto. Yet here he was, this anomalous man known as Ludwig Beilschmidt, standing here with such good manners and decorum--so far, at least. "Thank you, I tried to look my best. You're also very welcome."

"Yes. I was a part of the committee. It was a lot of work since we didn't have a vast selection but it seems to have worked out." Nicoleta explained with an unwavering will to walk all over him with lies. She still looked at the paintings with some admiration, as if she was proud of what she had done. On another note, so far so good. Since the charity event was not staged, it was moving forward by itself. "It's been fantastic, actually. We've received a lot of donations already. The actual auction isn't until a little later tonight, after the opening ceremony. We're the early ones."

On the norm, she would never be this prompt to attend an event. She had only arrived way early solely on the tip that Ludwig was an early bird.

She took a sip of her own wine. A red stain was left on the rim of the glass cup. "Do you have a favorite style of art. A certain painter or artist, perhaps?"

[Deleted]

Ludwig raised an eyebrow at the second compliment, allowing half a smirk to cross his face before asking, "Usually? Should I assume the best, then?" He paused and raised his wine glass to her as she thanked him for his compliment in return, before taking a sip. Unfortunately, this wouldn't be the kind of gathering where he could just eat and drink as he pleased, and he genuinely didn't want to linger too long - perhaps just long enough to see the pictures and make the rounds but not long enough for the auction. He had no idea what he'd do with a new piece of art, anyways. Donate it right back to charity, most likely.

"It looks wonderful so far," he offered as the two of them wove their way through the crowds and into the gallery proper. The party seemed to have split neatly into two circles: the outermost circle walked in a ring along the gallery walls, examining and commenting on the paintings, while the inner one simply socialized. Ludwig set a course for the former. He wanted to see what had been put on display, at least, and upon hearing that the event had already started to turn a profit, he said, "That's great news. With gatherings like this, it's always hard to tell, but that's probably a good sign." The first few paintings on the walls weren't that impressive -- some incomprehensible post modern nonsense, a style Ludwig had never had patience for. Ignoring the random splashes of color and geometric shapes, he continued walking, taking another sip of wine.

"A favorite artist?" Ludwig had to think about that for a moment; he had quite a few, but wanted to give a simple answer. "Magritte, I suppose. I've always like surrealism, and the technique is nice there too. I like a lot of artists, though. It's difficult to pick just one. What about you?" He turned his gaze to the woman still walking right at his side. "Have you got a favorite style?" Ludwig narrowed his eyes a little bit, "If I had to guess, I'd say something like expressionism." He probably wasn't even close to being right, but it would keep the conversation going.

[Nicoleta]

Nicoleta chuckled at his question and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You can assume whatever you want, Mister Beilschmidt."

She noted that she enjoyed the sight of his half smirk before it disappeared to receive a kiss of wine. It was a hint of mischievous amusement she usually liked to see from other people. A shame she could not bed him. She would've loved to see how he smirked in private. If she was lucky, then perhaps she could score a hand past those fastened buttons to see the man underneath the proper and tailored suit of a politician.

With a sip of wine, she brushed off her thoughts to secure the focus at hand.

Nothing was said to his first remark and she hummed in approval on his second remark, a touch of a smile playing on her lips. No matter how well-versed she was with her lies and no matter how controlled she was of her persona, she could never quite condition herself to wipe away how amused she would get whenever the target said something ironic. Ironies and puns were her favorite sort of humor, the darker, the better. The smile was simply an indication that she knew something he didn't, and she loved it.

They walked side by side and Nicoleta matched her steps with his. She took a gander at each and every art piece that she passed by, hardly feeling the grace of its design. Art was never in her circle of interest. Rather,  her forte was being a part of art heists,  and it was definitely nothing she could gloat about out loud. However she tried her best to look interested, nodding at a few that looked slightly more impressive than the rest. Nicoleta began to act as if she was pensively studying each and every work of the gallery, her eyes belying the hidden feeling of boredom beneath her skin. To be blunt, none of these should even be work a pound. One artwork had the technique of a child barfing yellow and purple on a white canvas. The current bid on it was two thousand and eleven pounds.

"Surrealism," she repeated, raising a brow and looking impressed. Nicoleta had no idea what the hell that was. Based off assumptions, she continued, "Good choice. Every once in a while, the mind needs to be intrigued by something 'surreal', for lack of a better word. But my favorite has to be, ah..."

She paused to sort her thoughts. Her actual knowledge of art was limited, and only extended to how much she knew since the first time she walked in an art museum at the age of twelve. There was a word in Romanian she could not think of a translation for.

"Macabru art, actually. Stefani Dumitru--art that represents death but in a beautiful way. It's interesting to see how different it is from pieces that embraces eternal life. Death is real, and eternal life is impossible." Her eyes darted to the side and then she raised her chin up to drink some more wine. "It's nice to see reality in art once in a while. Though I don't intend to darken the mood for tonight."

Those words were not a lie. With as much ease as possible, she took a couple of steps ahead of him and then gestured at the open entrance to the patio with a torchlit stone path. A twinkle returned in her eyes.

"There are some other galleries outside. Do you want to take a look?"

[Deleted]

"I'll take that as a compliment, then," Ludwig replied easily, "thank you." He busied himself with his wine glass for a moment, not drinking too much. He didn't plan on letting this escalate into a party: he'd have to make one or two glasses last for the entire evening, which could sometimes be difficult.

His companion seemed to have a bit more patience for the artistic offerings than he did; she occasionally stopped, leaning in to examine a piece more closely. Ludwig wondered if her background was in art. That would certainly explain the interest and all of the questions. A few times, he witnessed people entering bids for the works hanging on the walls, and that made him feel conflicted. The money would all go to a good cause, certainly, but he never would have bought any of this stuff -- at least not at the prices some of the pieces were currently commanding. It was somewhat reassuring, however, to realize that if his political career fell through, he might be able to take up modern art.

Turning when Rosa answered his question, Ludwig was somewhat surprised at her answer. Not that his guess had been wrong; he'd been fully expecting that. But macabru art… the word wasn't known to him, but it wasn't difficult to figure out exactly what it meant, especially after her explanation. Art that represents death, but in a beautiful way… Ludwig had no patience for that either. Death was rarely beautiful, he felt. But Rosa obviously disagreed, or perhaps she was stuck at that stage of life when horror painted with the brush of beauty was something entrancing, rather than something pointlessly over-dramatic.

"The mood hasn't been darkened," he reassured her, although that wasn't entirely the truth. Now he had death on his mind, and that wasn't entirely pleasant. But his face remained calm, never belying what he was thinking. Following Rosa towards the door, Ludwig gestured with a hand to the stone path laid out before them.

"By all means, let's take a look. Ladies first," he offered, waiting for her to step outside before following. The cool evening air was refreshing after the densely packed heat of the gallery, and Ludwig took a long, deep breath, clearing his head a little as he did.

[Nicoleta]

She pursed her lips and nodded before she stepped outside. The night was illuminated by patio lights that were meant to be for decoration. The air smelled of petrichor, damp and earthy from the light drizzle that had passed. There were a few people out in the marble patio, most of them lingering around the pavilion to admire a geometric artwork from some obscure artist. It was a bent metallic square with other squares on it. Nicoleta hated the fact that metal squares was worth enough to pay off her rent for years.

Heaven forbid if he decides to go check out that thing. There were too many people. She'd rather not venture out to far and risk one of the staff members recognizing her as a stranger. Nicoleta hummed to herself in amusement. Let's not do that.

Ludwig was as clueless as a maiden on the sheets. The night was still ripe and young, yet Nicoleta was in a hurry to spoil it. It would be nicer to enjoy the party without this extra baggage. Maybe if Ludwig was more adventurous, she'd devil up to have more fun. So far, she discerned that he was not the type.

"Are you tired of contemporary art already?" Nicoleta gave him a wry smile. "Art is not how it used to be. We have another gallery if you want to look. It's much different than the rest. You might find what you're looking for."

She almost dropped her persona at that point.