Participants:
| Scene Title | Tradition and Decorum |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | D'sarthe and a Linderman employee find themselves under the same room. Ina pulls a Kain however, but unlike him, is save by location, and by his daughter. |
| Date | August 25, 2010 |
Christie's Auction House, New York
Silent auctions can be tedious, boring, time consuming, but can net eager individuals with money some thing of value. Whether to ad to a collection, donate to a museum, personal enjoyment. Who knows, they're countless. But before all auctions, there are viewings and open to individuals at certain hours, small groups of people who can peruse the objects and take a look closer than some glossy page in a catalogue.
Christies in New York, on the 31st there's to be an art auction filled with various goods of days gone past. Some more within the supposed price range of Ina's, she's there in tailored black along with the fifteen or so others who have turned up for this viewing opportunity. Wealthy and obscenely wealthy alike are drawn here. Some with assistants, some with just cellphones and such glue'd to their ears so they can let their proxy's know what they'll want the people to call upon when the 31st rolls around.
Ina's not one of the phone yellers or in posession of any assistants. If they knew where Linderman had shunted her for the time being, they might not even have let her in the door. But in the oak paneled room with it's various painting hanging proudly on the walls and cases lined with littles trinkets and such behind glass and brightly lit. There's only herself and a handful of others, conversation low and kept private, she's glancing at some lalique that's up, the white vase with it's floral motif all in white seeming to catch her attention for the moment.
Though not in the realms of an assistant, Marie d'Sarthe is hooked around her father's arm, the slip of a girl a great contrast to the decorated, broad man clean cut in a suit and vest. Not the first man of action to have come through the auction, Gideon garners at least a few glances recognizable as realization; in the spirit of things, however, none of them make an approach, nor make a reason for him to approach them. A large man is intimidating enough, even with a sweet-faced, willowy companion on his arm.
Marie moves off on her own, within short time, to examine an Impressionist piece; this leaves Gideon, as someone much easier to notice, to peruse elsewhere. Incidentally, he finds himself at the same Lalique as Ina, sharp eyes behind nearly unnecessary glasses honing in on the vase.
"Charmant…" His mouth does not move, yet his voice mutters in that grating rasp enough to make his presence known. "I have several Lalique pieces. Une merveille- he had such taste."
"There's a few pieces that have surfaced in this auction, I'm not hoping for them though." She doesn't register at first, who it is that's stopped beside her to admire the Lalique vase. But when she does look, it's not hard to mistake who the person is. Not when he's the rival of your boss. Well, your boss's, boss's, boss.
Does he know who she is? "There's a small musical box with a bird on it. Few other pieces. Lalique though, never quite been my style. Good afternoon Mr. D'Sarthe." A glance to who was on his arm, before she's squaring her attention on the other man. "I hear you have a restaurant opening soon"
He may know. Or, he may not. It is extremely difficult to tell, even when he settles his scanning gaze onto her, expression screened by light brown hair.
"I can appreciate his work." Gideon's voice has that somewhat heavy inflection, and as portent it comes as unsettling. "Do you, now?" When he smiles, it is with only his mouth.
"Marie has taken it upon herself to decorate it. Il sera un défi." His smile fades at the corners, breath leaving the broad chest under pendant and shirt with an exasperated, if very paternal, rattle of air. Gideon's hand, calloused and marked, drifts up to trace at his jaw. Thought, perhaps, or feigned deliberation. "I am planning a party this coming week. If you should so wish to come to it, miss Anderson."
"Wouldn't that be like a Kia car employee, driving a Ford?" Ina politely points out, turning her attention away from her bosses rival and back the lalique at hand.
"No, no." Gideon laughs. The noise is abrupt within the quiet, a low cough of sound that seems to echo in her ears. "Mademoiselle, I only seek the company." His hand moves down to his chest, fingers bared to fabric in a show of earnest.
"I promise you that I mean no funny business." His accent makes the term endearingly chopped, yet she will likely know better than to trust whatever endearing nature is is infusing into his words. "Seulement- if you wish to drive me-"
"Papa…" A faint voice comes from his other side. It is as bare as sun-baked earth, almost tired- but a solid word, unwavering. Marie, in all of her female intuition, has just possibly wrested Ina Anderson from Gideon d'Sarthe's headlights. For the time being.
"You're not the D'Sarthe I'd choose to get behind the wheel of" A glance by the woman to his daughter, if perhaps a touch appreciative of the young woman's form. Take from that what you will Gideon but Marie need not be worried for her father if the look really does have anything behind it.
"I'll have to check my datebook. You know how things are in this city, one day it's clear sailing and then the next, there's a curfew at four in the afternoon and you have to cancel everything" She flashes him a smile, one side up further than the other, lips scarlet red in contrast to her suit and her hair.
Marie, on one hand, can feel her cheeks turning the same shade of pale pink as her dress. Her reaction time is on par with her father's, and as soon as she realizes what is going on, she slips her arm under his again, hands on his forearm. She appears somewhat distressed, eyes casting down and lips tightening.
Gideon should have reacted by now; if this were anywhere else, he might make an actual effort to possibly force Ina aside- get in her face-
Let it be said that Gideon d'Sarthe is a man of tradition and decorum. Harming a woman egregiously is beyond him, though not completely unheard of. In this particular …situation, it quickly turns out to her having derailed him. His smile is gone, replaced with a dark line; the look that he gives Ina is venomous- the type of look that many men, after spitting out teeth, wished they had never seen. She knows he is good for it. The only thing saving her from something is simple- location.
"Papa, we will come back another time. Oublier sa." Marie diffuses his line of sight and his boiling affront, simply by shifting around his arm to put her other hand onto his breast, over his heart. The young woman looks to Ina, with something of a cursory warning, before she moves to take her father's hand. "Elle n'est rien, oublier son."
Whatever it is that she says, it works to take the venom from his eyes… if only because it is she that says it.
Touchy. Protective. A flare of jealousy coming to the fore of Ina's face at the protectiveness that he displays for his daughter from something so little as a look and a few words in reply to his barb. Recognition too and a respectful dip of her head to Marie then to D'Sarthe. Years ago, on a far different social scale, she did the same. It was how she came to be part of the Linderman family.
"She's too young for me D'Sarthe. I know what's off limits. Cherish her." It's murmured quietly, shared. And Ina leaves then, what she really wants to see is in a different room on display. A sway of hips that's as much a part of her as the color of her hair, Ina's walking away, showing her back. Not as a dare or a challenge, just walking away with her hands on her clutch.
Does the invitation still stand?