The Post-Impression That I Get

The man next to her commented on the piece in front of them and Rhia glanced over, smiling cordially. “I can imagine,” she said of the skill required to create such a masterpiece. “Although, if the artist felt his work complete, then perhaps what we perceive as flaws is really just creative license, no?” Rhia was talking out of her arse. She liked looking at paintings and she owned a few more inexpensive pieces which she displayed in her home, but she didn’t really know much about the study of it. She liked the colors, the imagery, and the feeling it brought about as she looked at it. That was enough to consider it a great piece, as far as she was concerned. Not that she was judging this man for his opinion. He probably knew more about art than she did, he may have been a professional critic for all she knew.

His best mate was having himself a little rummage sale this evening, selling off his paintings and hoping to make a living off the profits. Rodolphus liked Quinn’s work but he couldn’t see ‘artist’ as being a very lucrative profession, though being a Blackwood, Quinn didn’t really need to worry about making much money tonight. He ought to have been more worried about his reputation and whether or not held a respectable position but Quinn’s family seemed nonchalant about their bohemian artist son and it made the chap happy. Roddy had assured his mate that his work would all be sold before the night was over and that, yes, Dorcas’ offer to purchase anything that didn’t sell with her newfound Lestrange fortune and somehow turn it into a Muggle charity in her husband’s name was exactly the sort of torment his wife would inflict upon him, so Quinn needn’t worry about his gallery night being a financial ruin. Of course, she couldn’t buy anything if they didn’t get there in the first place.

“Hurry the fuck along, Meadowes.” He pounded on the bathroom door to no reply. She had shut herself up in their en suite and was taking her sweet sodding time. Rodolphus had been dressed for more than an hour, a dashing vision in black. He only needed his wife on his arm and then he would be set, but the little trophy was being expectantly difficult. Dorcas claimed to be out soon but Rod knew better than to trust her, so he headed downstairs and fixed himself a drink in the parlor. He was sipping his scotch slowly in order to kill the time without ending up wasted and still one drink turned into two. He was just beginning to consider pouring himself a third glass when a blonde Dorcas appeared in the doorway, completely distracting him. He stared at her, empty glass in hand, a sly smile spreading. “Fuck, babe, you look fucking amazing.” There was no point in waiting a beat for her to pompously acknowledge his compliment, she thought the world of herself and in that moment Rodolphus would certainly agree that she was the hottest piece of tail this side of the Atlantic. He stooped to set the glass on an end table as he crossed the room to meet her. “Trying to seduce my best mate with this look?” he growled seductively, his fingers playing with a loose piece of blonde hair. Rodolphus scooped her up and threw her onto the leather sofa, concerns about their tardiness having gone completely out the window.

Red stickers marked several pieces that had already been sold off, and at first blush it appeared half the works were spoken for by the time the Lestranges arrived. Rodolphus had driven them in one of his sports cars, enjoying the breeze as the top was down while they whipped through the city streets faster than ought to be safe. Rod stroked Dorcas’ arse as they entered the gallery, instantly greeted by a waiter and a tray of champagne flutes.

“Something like that.” He was able to articulate her blathering in a much more eloquent manner than she could. Perhaps he really did know more about art than she did. It’s not as though that was a difficult challenge, especially given their current surroundings. He introduced himself and Rhia found herself repeating his name several times in her head for fear that she’d forget it while they were still talking. “Rhiannon,” Rhia replied, shaking his hand. They were rough but not uncomfortably so. Rhia couldn’t help but admire his features now that he had turned to face her. He was cute and she liked his smile, though that had gotten her into trouble in the past. “Nice to meet you, Julian. Are you a friend of the artist or…?” Or just some rando walking in off the street, as she was. It was an awfully posh party considering nearly anyone could have shown up, herself and Miss Leopard Printed Mini Skirt being the obvious outsiders.

Dorcas made a spectacle of herself, as was expected, and Roddy merely smirked, holding back a chuckle. His wife having swanned off into the gallery, Rod headed the opposite direction to peruse the paintings (some of which he’d already seen hanging around Quinn’s studio) and track down his mate to offer his congratulations. Rodolphus didn’t think much of his best friend’s career, but he was making a respectable name for himself and the man had obviously done something right in his life to have nabbed a fucking stunning celebrity like Lyra Burke. When he had first heard about Quinn’s bird, Rod joked that Quinn was hung like an abraxan – the only possible explanation for a starlet to be interested in a bloke like Quinn, and after this long, Rod was ready to believe it. He spotted the happy couple canoodling not far away and made his way to them. “Hey mate.” He clapped Quinn on the shoulder. “Nice little turn out you’ve got here.” Rod wasn’t generally impressed with much, and tonight wasn’t an exception, but the night was young and perhaps this stuffy little soiree could lead them somewhere fun later on.