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A jock. Great. Amelia kept a smile on her face, eyes widened slightly, implying she was impressed by Jacob’s career which he obviously took pride in. Why would her parents set her up with some sports fanatic?! And he didn’t even work with the international matches? This news was such a let down, but Amy kept her composure and carried on as if she were at all interested in the subject of quidditch and what his job might entail. “That sounds interesting. I suspect you’ve met a player or two, then?” She could appreciate a celebrity sighting, if nothing else.

She could appreciate that Jacob was not as appreciative, or at least not as knowledgeable, of the museum’s offerings as she was. It had been her life’s passion, after all. She could hardly expect to find a partner with the exact level of enthusiasm for a Levêque or Vrubel masterpiece. Amelia had been momentarily excited about the prospect of this arrangement if it meant finding an art lover to match her expertise, but she knew she was being silly. She would settle for a willingness to listen to her blather on about whatever she loved, and more importantly whatever she loathed about a piece. Jacob seemed amicable enough, and he was fairly attractive. Perhaps her parents, in all their misguided, barbaric traditions, had not done such a bad job at picking a suitor for her. Amelia took his arm and headed with into the next room, deciding to focus their conversation less on the art and more on the man. “What is it that you do, Jake?” She hated that nickname, it sounded juvenile, but he had requested it of her – instead of the much more regal sounding ‘Jacob’ – so she would oblige him. For now. If this arrangement continued, his chosen nickname would be one of the first things she corrected.

Amelia studied the boy’s face, the colors so lovingly blended to get the slightly ashen look of his pale skin just right. She tried to suspend her own thoughts on the artwork as she listened to Jacob’s interpretation, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side as she opened herself to the idea of loss that he experienced. She nodded slowly, having something of a similar emotion as she looked upon the boy’s stoic expression. Jacob was apologizing now and Amy turned and gave a tender smile in his direction. “No need to apologize for your opinion,” she said gently, stepping closer to him, the back of her hand brushing against his. She had taken their first date to much a too deep level and the poor sod was just trying desperately to tread water and make it through. She liked that he was trying though. She appreciated the effort and it gave hope that an arranged relationship might not be horrendous if they could both try just a bit. Her green eyes turned back toward the boy. “Loss. Yes, I see that here.” She leaned over and spoke softly, “it wouldn’t have killed him to smile, would it?” She gave a cheeky smirk before straightening up and schooling her features once more. She could appreciate the work for what was there without having to share with Jacob all the more detailed aspects that she found interesting. At least not for every piece the passed.

A poet Triss was not. She painted imagery with her words like a drunk man trying to tap dance. Poorly. Cute and warm wasn't much to go on but Amy gave her best suggestions and input into the options her sister pulled out from the wardrobe. In the end, Beatrice was dressed in something fairly similar to what she'd started with, though admittedly the loss of the baseball cap was an improvement. If her sister was happy with her choice, Amelia wasn't going to complain. Triss did enough of that for the entire family. "I love that top."

As the girls traveled down the corridor, Amelia attempted to keep the pleasant atmosphere going, not wanting to scare off her sister with any intrusive conversations. "Did mum say what we were having for lunch?" she asked, hoping the mere mention of one of their parents wasn't enough to send Triss into a rage again. Honestly, the girl needed a mood stabilizing elixir on the regular.

Amelia was certain that Triss was going to explode on her again; the glare the younger witch was giving her was enough to melt the Triwizard cup, but Triss’ expression changes almost instantly to a look of joy. Amy wasn’t bothered by her sister’s manic mood swing and simply smiled as her sister wrapped her in a hug. Amy reciprocated, patting Triss lightly on the back before they separated. “Alright,” she said with an amused chuckle, never having thought of her little sister as a fashionista before. She wasn’t a wretch but if anyone in the family was going to claim the crown for the biggest wardrobe, it would have been Elena.

Amy allowed Beatrice to tug her up the stairs and the girls ducked into Triss’ room without much notice from their parents. “What sort of outfit were you thinking, then?” she asked casually as she flopped herself onto her sister’s mattress and rolled onto her stomach, head toward Triss’ wardrobe. Amy sneered and flicked a pair of dirty socks off the bed and onto the floor.

Amelia was feeling the pressure of the evening but she took it all in stride. Her first big showing was going exceptionally well, and several of the pieces had sold within the first hour of the night. At this rate, they’d sell out before the evening was through, and wouldn’t that just be a marvelous little addition to her resume.
A boisterous woman flounced into the room and began shouting about purchasing ‘an art’. Clearly uncultured, Amy wanted to throw the woman out but she was on the arm of Rodolphus Lestrange, at least for a brief moment, and therefore Amelia couldn’t risk losing the woman’s gold. Wand drawn, Amy followed the serious buyers and marked the purchases as sold, drawing up receipts for the patrons to submit at the end of the night in order to finalize their purchase and claim their masterpiece. The loud witch clambered on about another piece, and off Amelia went to find out which item she’d be wrapping up for the uncouth billionaire.

An admirer of art; that was nice. At least he hadn’t only shown up here because his mother had suggested it or some pathetic sodding thing like that. She wasn’t sure she could live with a man who didn’t at least minutely enjoy fine art. And travel. Amelia loved a good holiday, taking in the historic sights and visiting the great museums and libraries all around the world. Merlin, imagine her life if her parents had set her up with a dullard who thought quidditch and gambling were the height of entertainment. Amy nearly rolled her eyes at the thought but schooled her features into a content expression.

Jake called her a piece of art and she raised her brow in his direction. As a true art lover, she wasn’t sure exactly how to take such a remark. Surely he meant it in a complimentary way, comparing her to the Birth of Venus or perhaps Leighton’s God Speed. Though if he had a wicked sense of humor, perhaps he meant to compare her to Grünewald’s The Temptation of Saint Anthony; a horribly ugly piece in Amelia’s opinion, and one that brought about unpleasant thoughts whenever she came across it. Jake clarified that he had actually been complimenting her dress and Amelia smiled. “Almost as much as you do,” she remarked modestly. She had put some thought into her look today, but it was an older dress she had already owned. An arranged engagement didn’t seem the sort of thing one bought a new wardrobe for. At least not yet.

They came to a fork in the corridor; if they went left they would first encounter a display of Photorealism, to the right was a new exhibit on Modern Expressionism. “Do you have a preference?” she asked, looking up at the man, hoping he wanted to go right as she did.