Paint The Scenery I See Before Me. l.s

i- dostoyevsky

With a glass of champagne in his hand, Louis let his eyes roam across the hall.

It was another auction, this time in honour of a CEO who had passed away, and the proceeds will be going to different start-up companies. Louis rolled his eyes, at least this time they weren't pretending to be philanthropists.

Unconsciously, his eyes landed on another man dressed to the nines in a black suit, as they had throughout the entire evening. Louis had first gotten a glimpse of the man towards the start, as he was making rounds and giving his condolences. Louis hadn't been able to stop staring at him since.

He was beautiful, is the thing. He was beautiful in the way he walked, in the way he smiled, all innocence and charm, his voice, from what Louis had heard in the passing, was slow and sweet. He couldn't help but imagine how the other would look beneath him, taken apart and breathless from pleasure. But first, Louis had to know his name.

Had to know if he was a potential lover or a potential target.

Aside from the angel, Louis had his eye on some other patrons at this auction. They looked like they would spend their money on art pieces without really checking if they were authentic.

After a while, when the auction went on a break and people started getting up, Louis made his way to the two potential targets. He was a known personality, his specialization in selling fine art. Or fake fine art, to be more specific.

"Mr. Cushing, a pleasure to see you again," Louis said when he was near the CEO.

"Mr. Tomlinson, I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight," Cushing replied.

"I wasn't sure if I was going to come either," he admitted, "but I thought it would be rude not to show up, considering that Mr. Harrington was a dear friend of the family."

"Of course, understandable," he drank from his glass before continuing, "is it safe to assume that you have new pieces in need of a new owner?"

Straight to the point then, how nice.

"Not as of yet, but I am getting a few new pieces delivered by the end of the week if you're interested."

"I might be, do you have another buyer as of yet?"

"You're the first person I've talked to about this," Louis reassured him. People like him wanted exclusive things to show off, but a competition always made them buy faster, "I do have some other potential buyers, Mr. MacMillan was particularly interested in knowing if I have new pieces arriving soon."

If he took the bait, great if not, Louis was walking out.

"I didn't know Mr. MacMillan had the money for another piece," he commented, "regardless, would give me some time to consider it. My wife isn't very pleased with my collection of art."

Well, this was a waste of time it seemed.

"Take your time, Mr. Cushing, and do give your wife my regards," Louis quickly made his exit. This wasn't very productive and looking at his other target, James Du Pont, made of old money, he had a feeling it would go down similarly.

The ones made of old money were particularly stringy about where and how to spend it. That's not to say that they didn't have their eccentricities, but they made smart choices. They weren't as prone to spend their money on a new obsession as compared to someone of new money.

Louis placed his empty champagne glass on a counter, grabbed two new ones, and went towards the terrace, partly because he wanted fresh air, and mainly because he saw the beauty from before going outside as well.