after withdrawing his touch, Calvin's hand lingered at his side, fingers brushing, lightly, against the wool of his jacket, as if to anchor himself. it was unlike anything he had ever experienced, a quiet static caught in his fingertips that was near impossible to ignore. her voice, a welcome distraction. “we expect it to go for ten.”
he swallowed, brows drawing together, “hmph.” an honest laugh slipped out, quiet, directed inward. the number wasn’t out of reach, of course, not for a Montgomery, but it wasn’t what he made a habit of spending on a given night, either. not without reason. “good thing I skipped the cab fare on the way over here,” Calvin remarked, cheeky grin dimpling his cheeks, as it landed somewhere between dry and self-aware.
at her inquiry, his gaze happily returned to the painting, in question. “I don’t know,” he admitted, after a moment. “It’s just… looking at it, I feel like I’m there.” He gave a small nod, as if in confirmation, keeping the rest of what had come to mind much closer to his chest. “I can’t imagine that’s an easy thing to do.” after another second, he shifted his attention to the piece she had intended to show him, next. It was a chaos of paint, color splattered across canvas in a way felt accidental. “now, this… this looks like something even I could throw together.”
his eyes scanned the placard. Jackson Pollock — $150,000.
“right.” Calvin shook his head, more at himself, than anything. “you know, it’s a good thing I’m not here… trying to impress you, or anything.” his smile grew, then, the contradiction obvious.
before he knew it, the room around them had begun to shift. conversations tapered, bodies turned, patrons began to congregate, toward where, one could presume, the live auction would be held. “well,” he said, "looks like the party's about to start."