The room was abuzz as judges, artists, and viewers alike wandered about. Judges talked amongst themselves as they viewed each display. Some of the displays were singular pieces, others were composed of multiple mediums. Like many of the other artists, Kylo wandered nervously, holding back the urge to thrash from his anxiety. As always he pushed it back, causing his jaw to clench along with his fists. He wasn’t the most patient man, so watching as the judges took their time going over each and every detail of mediocre work was quite exhausting. 

Phasma, if she wasn’t one to also put up a facade of maturity, almost laughed out loud. She was smarter than that though, she knew that any indication of Kylo’s irritation would have resulted in an outburst, which no one wanted. She didn’t understand why he put so much stake into the showcase. The winner won $2,000 in grant money, but Kylo didn’t need it. Was it just to stroke his own ego? Phasma settled on that answer. 

“You didn’t have to come, Phasma,” Kylo stated evenly, catching her attention. He didn’t look at her, he looked forward, scanning the collection that was displayed by his. 

“And miss the opportunity to watch you strangle a smile for the camera?” She scoffed. “I wouldn’t miss it.”