moritat | there is always another au

The wonderful and terrible part of exhibitions and grand openings is that a packed elbows-to-nutsacks situation is seen as a negative. They don't lack for open space and comfortable breathing room. It is a double-edged sword when Paloma knows a misstep on her part could get noticed by the wrong people and destroy her career before it begins.

Paloma pales imperceptibly, then flushes. Stupidly, stupidly, she tucks her chin to check that he's not emphasizing 'look' because her tits have escaped the clasp. She looks up again, albeit dully horrified at herself.

"Thank- thank you? I am lovely. I mean, I feel lovely. I mean, I wanted to thank you on behalf of Veronica," her boss and the curator in charge.

"You are, and should certainly feel it." Always, but especially looking as she does now!

"You're very welcome, although I don't know that I've done terribly much, you've all done the hard work after all. And I do think it seems to have paid off well." There's that pretty smile!

The blinding relief at having earned the patron's approval twitches her mouth into something which almost turns into a smile. That's when his persistent compliments sink in, and her cheeks burn.

"I... we couldn't have made it this far so quickly if not for your investment." She manages not to trip over the prepared words. He's a bit dazzling! "Sorry if it's seemed like we avoided you all this time. The volume of orders..."

"No, not at all! I completely understand, you've more important things to worry about. For my own part I've been too busy to check in, so you have my apologies as well!" At least he's graceful and not scrambling to make apologies this time... A little older, a little more put together. Not mentally ill, probably.

His calm, in turn, soothes a piece of the panic that's been welling in her throat for hours. If the investor's approval has been won, well, that speaks well for their future. Veronica might take her to dinner.

Paloma fiddles with the modest silver chain around her throat, out of place simplicity in a sea of bejeweled ladies. Her eyes stray but soon dart back to him. "No apologies needed. I guess we're at a stand-still? Ha. Hahh."

"It does seem so! May I bring you a drink, or something to eat?" He doesn't recall seeing her with anything in hand, and it's been a long day no doubt! She's earned more than her fair share for sure.

She just keeps from literally hand-flapping, or from blurting 'both!' He already thinks she's uncouth and awkward if he has two brain cells to rub together.

Her eyes slip shut for a moment of gathering. "If you're already getting something for yourself, then... yes. I might head to the balcony for fresh air." Shit, "Not that I'm not having an incredible time!"

He gives a small laugh, nodding. "No, of course. I understand. It can become a bit overwhelming in these situations." And with a small nod that could almost be a bow, he goes to scout it out.

Assuming Paloma does head to the balcony, no sooner has she found that peace and quiet than he reappears, leaning backward over the rail. Except that isn't Henry. And rather than a pretty smile, he flashes a grin.

So polite, so courteous, it could only be the bare minimum a lord of his disposition offers any business partner. Her grateful smile fades once his back is turned. With him gone, she's again an outsider. A lucky intern, and it is absurd that she should miss his company for more than a half-second.

Her respite is short enough that she doesn't even have a moment to twist her hands together. Leaping out of her skin yet perfectly immobile, Paloma looks up at the Other Brother with enormous eyes. Damn. Damn damn damn.

"Are you enjoying the party?" she inquires faintly.

He straightens a bit, only to shrug in his leather jacket. "Sure. The private party is a little more exciting, though." He won't even try to hide it, the way she looks at him tells him that she's heard about him. "Have you had the tour?"

The tour. Pardon Paloma for thinking it, but she'd like to avoid taking private tours from young men mixed up in accusations of murder. Her mouth is dry.

"Yes, Veronica-- the curator showed me," she lies outright. The balcony rail has suddenly become fascinating. In her peripheral she sees the leather and judges, just a bit. "But thank you very much."

"Too bad... Well, any time you want to get away, I'll be here..." What a reaction! He loves it, he revels in people being afraid of him, especially without ever having met him. He turns around to lean the other way, draping his arms over the rail.

"...He wants to fuck you, you know."

She forgets to breathe. Fortunate, else she would have choked on nothing but air.

Then her hands do find each other, latching on at the knuckle to twist her index and middle finger. The humiliation she's been afraid of has found Paloma and it's as terrible as she feared. Her cheeks burn white hot.

"There is no way you could know that!"

"Sure there is. I know him better than anyone. Don't people always say twins can basically read each other's minds?" He grins wider, leaning in close. "Besides, I know all the signs with him. But he's too chicken shit to say it, so you'll just have to watch for them yourself."

She can smell the cigarettes on his breath. Paloma cowers, turning her face away without taking steps to separate from him.

"I... I know what you're doing! I-I don't want to be a part of whatever problems you two have! Thank you!"

"What? I'm trying to help, he'll never get laid if I don't help, wouldn't you want that for your big brother?" He has to laugh though, because still, she isn't entirely wrong. "Give him a go, help the poor guy out, y'know?"

This is the most blatant reverse psychology anyone's ever tried on her. He either believes she's ignorant to the context of their relationship, or Edward (that was his name?) flat out thinks she's stupid.

Indignance is a lifeline tossed into her mire of anxiety. Shivering, she finally darts a step away. Her eyes look everywhere but at his. "Stop it, please. It's not going to work. But you- you should try the appetizers. Or get a drink."

"Hmm, maybe, but I had a different sort of appetizer in mind..." He stands upright to face her, fingers creeping to the hem of her skirt--

Until Henry returns, carrying a tray with selections for both of them. But the moment he sees what his brother's up to, he turns red with anger and only just manages to remember to set the tray down before he marches over to grab him by the wrist and pull him away. "Edward!" Once he succeeds in pulling the other toward the door, he hisses reprimands in harsh but quiet tones, like a parent scolding a child in front of company.

Not the worst line she's heard. Second or third, probably. She shies from his hand, inhaling for a hearty yell--

Jekyll saves her twice. Once from his brother and again from herself, from making a spectacle. She could cry from relief if it wasn't so jarring seeing them facing each other. The sole differences lie in how much tidier and well-groomed Henry is. Otherwise...

Paloma turns very quickly to stare out over the grounds. Trying not to eavesdrop is a doomed effort.

"What's wrong with you? You can't do things like this, anything you want whenever you want! Harassing someone like a goddamn cat in heat!"

All he gets in reply is an, "Oh, fuck off," and a a scoff before Edward turns on his heel to skulk away. And, still furious, leave Jekyll to turn to Paloma.

"I apologise - good God, I'm sorry..." Here's some champagne to calm the nerves?

Should've plugged her ears. Family drama of a kind she can't relate to, never having met her brother at an age it's possible to recall. Secondhand embarrassment makes her flinch.

When it's safe, she faces the sane(?) brother with a deliberately blank expression. "It's okay. Thank you. From me, this time."

Champagne? Champ-gone. She swigs it too fast.

Oh. Understandable after dealing with Edward.... He offers up the second glass too, because he can always get himself more if he wants it. "No, not at all. I'd hoped he wouldn't come, frankly."

"Anyway! Apart from him, escaping the crowd was a good idea. You can take your time and the weight off your feet, not to mention the quiet is better for talking."

A lightweight has no good reason to accept another glass, and she's already regretting the hasty chug with her chest and dignity in flames. Paloma demurs.

Despite what she'd told his brother, it's hard not to analyze Jekyll for signs of... not attraction, but hints that he's going above and beyond a host's courtesy. Nothing concrete shows. Obviously.

"If I stay out here too long, the boss will grill me for hiding," she jokes. Too much tightness around the eyes for it to not be true.

It might not be overt, but there's signs of attraction at least. The way he doesn't quite make eye contact, shy tendencies that would only be noticed by those who know his usual demeanor intimately.

"You're talking with me, surely that's important to business."

Yet Paloma, with whatever empathetic nuance-picking she's been praised for, is a stranger. The eye contact is written off as a responsible brother's guilt, given what he'd walked in on.

God. If he hadn't... better not imagine.

The snacks he's brought help bring her blood sugar up just by ogling them. His reply brings her glance straight back up to Jekyll's face. "Yeah? What should I tell her we talked about, d'you think?" Was that a, a, a flirtatious note? Um?

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