Lion's Flowers


rebecca_icon.gif tamara_icon.gif

Scene Title Lion's Flowers
Synopsis Rebecca isn't a mouse at all. Tamara says so. She also completely doesn't pay attention to any of the art in the gallery.
Date July 12, 2009

An Art Gallery in SoHo

What does one do in New York City on a sunny summer Sunday afternoon? Apparently, find an art gallery to hide from the heat in. This particular alcove is home to a series of abstract acrylic paintings; swirls of red, green, blue, and violet; splotches of gold, orange, navy. There's one that looks like a multicolored snowflake caught beneath rippling water; another that could be a forest of bent plastic straws; a third that could've been an enameled design on a sheet of hammered copper. In actuality, they're all paint on canvas, of course, and nothing more.

Perhaps unlike the girl seated on a black-upholstered bench in the middle of the niche; dressed in a teal shirt and black jeans, hair mussed from disregard, she seems to be taking more interest in the white orchids and their square blue-glass vase perched on a table beside the bench. It's almost the same color as her shirt, the vase — which may or may not mean anything to Tamara. The spray of blossoms ends just above her head, and she's giving it the kind of cross-eyed study that frequently spurs people to say your face might freeze that way.

Spending most of her time around crime and death, moreso death these days, Rebecca Nakano takes any moment she can to find something that isn't about death or crime. Her time spent away from the office is as important to her as her time at the office. Today was the day she decided to go to see an art gallery she's been hearing about. She's been there already for about half an hour.

She moves from exhibit to exhibit looking at each. There are some that she finds fascinating, something she finds, well, not so much. Those that don't impress her get only a few seconds of a glance, while those she likes get a longer gaze. As she turns to move to the next wing, she notices Tamara sitting and staring at the vase. Of course, she doesn't notice it is Tamara until she gets up next to the girl and then she addresses her. "Tamara?" It's really the only way she knows to address the girl, as she doesn't recall ever knowing what her last name is. She glances at the flowers, then back at Tamara. "They are rather pretty."

The teen's blue eyes uncross to focus on Rebecca instead of the flowers, and she smiles brightly. "There's crawlies," she informs the woman. "Bitty little black bugs. At least — I think they're black." Tamara hops up to her feet. "They walk around…" Grabs Rebecca's hand, walking around her in a circle, so that Becca turns with her. "…and around…" Back where she started, Tamara lets go of her hand, flops back down into her seat. "People get dizzy when they do that, but I guess bugs don't."

Rebecca doesn't fight the grasp of her hand, nor the spinning around. "Well, I guess people only have two feet to steady them, while bugs have six. I probably would never get dizzy if I had six legs." She smiles at Tamara. "Where do you see the black bugs at?"

Rebecca sits down next to her after Tamara sits. "Have you been to this place before? It's my first time." For Rebecca, Tamara is like a puzzle to be figured out. If she can figure out how to read the girl, then she could understand what she's saying.

Where? Tamara plucks the spray of orchids from the vase, probably to the horror of any gallery staff looking on. If they're there, however, they're not commenting on her behavior. Yet. She brandishes the white flowers before Rebecca's face so the woman can look at them up close and in detail. "Right there," the girl proclaims, pointing to the center of an appropriate blossom. "See?" There are always bugs on flowers.

The girl wrinkles her nose at Rebecca's question, and shrugs her shoulders — which may make it a little more difficult for Becca to focus on the orchids, as they move with the motion. "There's lots of white in the shadows. Maybe some of it's here. Had enough color to be okay."

Arching an eyebrow, Rebecca peers closely at the flower to where Tamara is pointing. If Rebecca is shocked at the girl's behavior, she doesn't say anything about it. "I like bugs to be shiny. I like to see them sparkle. I'm not a big fan of white or black bugs, or furry bugs. I definitely do not like spiders, but I do like shiny beetles."

Rebecca takes a look around, then smiles to the girl. "They probably do not wanting you touching that, so you might put it back where it was before someone gets upset and asks us to leave," She comments. "Are there any pictures here that you really like, or just the flowers?"

"It was okay," Tamara reassures the woman, head bobbing briefly. But after long enough a moment to prove this (or perhaps that she isn't just going to do whatever Becca says), she sets the orchids back in their vase. "There's no beetles, but did you see the flowers over there?" She grabs Becca's hand again, this time dragging her across the gallery to another alcove, this one accented by a vase of red and gold lilies.

Rebecca lets herself be led around by the girl as she leads her over to the other set of flowers. "I see. You really like flowers, do you? Do you know what kind of flowers these are?" she asks as she glances at the display. Interesting that Tamara would come to an art museum and only look at the floral displays that really aren't part of the art exhibit.

Releasing the woman's hand at her query, Tamara tilts her head, regarding the handful of lilies curiously — as if expecting them to answer Rebecca's prompt for her. Or perhaps, from the angle of her head, she's listening for such a thing. For a moment, close study of the girl's expression might give the impression that her eyes darken; but then she shakes her head.

"No." She plucks one of the red-gold lilies from the small bouquet, turning and deftly sliding it behind the nearer of Rebecca's ears in a single fluid motion. The teenager grins cheerfully at the resulting sight. "They're lion's colors. It fits."

As the flower gets tucked behind her ear, she glances curiously at Tamara. "Am I like a lion to you, Tamara? In what way?" The flower is placed back into the vase, to keep them from getting escorted from the place. A lion is definitely not the word that Rebecca would use to describe herself. In fact, she's not entirely certain what sort of animal she might compare herself to. "Are there any more flowers around here?"

Tamara blinks at Rebecca, brows drawing together. "…I don't… it's just what is. The mirror says." She glances down, back to her companion, smiles crookedly. The girl shifts, gaze going to the alcove around them, wandering over walls and signs and artwork with equal regard (or lack thereof). "There were. Did you want to see them?"

"The things I see in the mirror have already occurred, I'm afraid. I don't see the mirror the same way you do." Fact is, Becca has had to learn to deal with every day life without a mirror, unless she's intending to have a backward glance at things. "If you want to show them to me, I would not mind seeing them." The flowers, of course. Rebecca watches Tamara as she studies (or not studies) the exhibits.

Now Rebecca is given a sidelong glance. "Couldn't," the teen counters. "You'll say so yourself." Not the flowers? Tamara lets go of the woman's hand, tilts her head to one side. "Probably the ghosts are better, if you can keep them; shadows fall away all the time." She smiles up at Rebecca. "Go finish the pictures; they were waiting."

"I suppose what has occurred is far better than finding out what's going to occur, if that's what you mean." The paintings are waiting. "Come visit me again soon, Tamara. Perhaps you have ghosts of your own that you may need me to see." Rebecca smiles towards the girl tries to reach over to use her fingers to comb the girl's hair, if she lets her. "Take care, Tamara. I'll go see the pictures now."

The teen closes her eyes, tolerates the touch. When Rebecca's done playing with her hair, Tamara smiles briefly at the woman, then starts for the door, leaving the gallery and its visitors behind.

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