"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."
"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."
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?
"Hmm, expenses sounds formal and important, right? Wheelchair accessibility?" He shrugs and gives a small laugh, since he's just throwing things out there. "Although I'm not sure where you would go from there, on details."
Paloma is so relieved he didn't pick up on the sly undercurrent that she feels a tad light-headed. Or it could be the champagne. Best watch her tongue.
"I could say you're considering funding future exhibitions, acquisitions, or, oh, oh my God, I'm so sorry! I wasn't--!" Fishing in his pockets. Her cheeks are scorching.
"Oh- no not at all, it's true, I would be interested! I think the arts are very important, and too often the overhead costs are too much to make the ticket price accessible, when it should practically be a human right to engage in arts and culture!" So they need people with money to write cheques to keep the prices down. It's a very lordly thing to do.
Without the context of what modern English bluebloods are expected to contribute, the sheer magnitude of his olive branch renders her mute. Her eyes go huge, luminous in the lamplight.
"Yes," she starts, once her head catches up, "yes, exactly! We have a right to understand where and how the art of now comes from art of then, or what's the point of sharing anything!?" Excitement puts a quiver into her voice.
"Ah, I can see you feel very passionately about it!" He beams, because he doesn't want to laugh or blush, but it's endearing. "Besides which art is inherently entwined with history, the events of the time shape it and appear within it, it's incredibly educational."
Too engrossed to care about how it looks, Paloma grabs two of the little appetizers at once and shoves them into her mouth as he speaks, nodding vigorously. They've vanished by the time he's at 'appear within'.
"The history is why I'm here in the first place! Galleries aren't meant to just flaunt the same classics over and over again when we have so many neglected works and stories!"
It hits her that her volume has risen enough to stop the conversation nearest the balcony archway. She blushes, quiets, clutches her empty glass. "... I'll tell the curator you're thinking about it, if you want."
"Please do, you can tell her you spent all night working on me." He smiles, like a dummy, because he doesn't notice his double entendre. And because she's cute.
She might not have gotten intimate with anyone for oh, most of her adult life, but prolonged celibacy isn't the same thing as naivete. Even the tips of her ears burn up. Dark skin shows it less-- but nothing hides the color completely.
"Yeah, um, all night," she chokes out. Her eyes dart everywhere but directly at Jekyll. God, did he even realize? "Does that mean we get to stay here?"
"Yes, away from the crowd and forced interactions, if you like. If my company is more favourable than that, that is." Because if it's still forced interactions and uncomfortable then he can leave her alone!
She rubs her arm, helpless against the urge to smile at his bizarre lack of confidence. Some arrogance is to be expected of nobility, but to not even trust his company?
"I think I do," she admits shyly. "Do you want to sit?" A couple of chairs beckon.
The tray needs to rest eventually, and why not the fancy table made from... marble? Jesus, she thinks. Must be nice.
After she's sat, at a loss for what to say or any cleverness, she peers through her lashes. Edward has to be wrong about his motivations. But what if he isn't and she's treading dangerously new waters?
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"I... I know what you're doing! I-I don't want to be a part of whatever problems you two have! Thank you!"
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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?
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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.
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"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."
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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.
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"You're talking with me, surely that's important to business."
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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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Paloma is so relieved he didn't pick up on the sly undercurrent that she feels a tad light-headed. Or it could be the champagne. Best watch her tongue.
"I could say you're considering funding future exhibitions, acquisitions, or, oh, oh my God, I'm so sorry! I wasn't--!" Fishing in his pockets. Her cheeks are scorching.
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Without the context of what modern English bluebloods are expected to contribute, the sheer magnitude of his olive branch renders her mute. Her eyes go huge, luminous in the lamplight.
"Yes," she starts, once her head catches up, "yes, exactly! We have a right to understand where and how the art of now comes from art of then, or what's the point of sharing anything!?" Excitement puts a quiver into her voice.
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"The history is why I'm here in the first place! Galleries aren't meant to just flaunt the same classics over and over again when we have so many neglected works and stories!"
It hits her that her volume has risen enough to stop the conversation nearest the balcony archway. She blushes, quiets, clutches her empty glass. "... I'll tell the curator you're thinking about it, if you want."
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She might not have gotten intimate with anyone for oh, most of her adult life, but prolonged celibacy isn't the same thing as naivete. Even the tips of her ears burn up. Dark skin shows it less-- but nothing hides the color completely.
"Yeah, um, all night," she chokes out. Her eyes dart everywhere but directly at Jekyll. God, did he even realize? "Does that mean we get to stay here?"
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But gee what's she blushing for??
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"I think I do," she admits shyly. "Do you want to sit?" A couple of chairs beckon.
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Hyde, in the background, screaming GET TO THE FUCKING ALREADY
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After she's sat, at a loss for what to say or any cleverness, she peers through her lashes. Edward has to be wrong about his motivations. But what if he isn't and she's treading dangerously new waters?
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"...Will you be staying in London long? At least through to the end of the run?" Just out of curiosity! Not for any reason!
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