now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy

[Isaac Lehrer]

“Well it looks brilliant, Tom, really, you've outdone yourself this time,” Isaac congratulated his fellow artist, the one who had been in charge of organising the group exhibition and had done quite a good job to say the least – nagging photographers, sculptors and painters for their final pieces enough to keep them to your deadline was an accomplishment indeed. Isaac himself had contributed one of the photographs he’d recently taken of a certain Helena Armitage, dressed in a draped, sheer dress, looking ethereally beautiful trapped amongst overhanging trees which had the appearance of twining about the bottom of her legs and hands. All in all he’d been quite happy with that shoot and Helena, also attending the exhibition that evening, seemed to quite enjoy the attention and praise the photograph had garnered.

It was a good friendship and partnership, his and Helena’s - he got a willing model who happened to have excellent contacts amongst the upper echelons of wizarding society and she got her face much more ‘out there’ as she wished for her modelling career. Thinking on this as gaze of the woman in question trailed over to him momentarily he smiled and held his hand up in a manner of greeting to her before he slipped away from the small group gathered around Tom and instead decided to look closer around the exhibition itself. Pausing to pick up a glass of white wine from the bar, he sipped on it slowly as he meandered through the small gatherings of people by the different exhibits, stopping by a sculpture in the middle of the room as he looked at it more thoughtfully, not even entirely aware of those people who surrounded it, and thereby him, as he gazed down at it.

((ooc: Anyone and everyone who’d have an excuse to attend the opening of a new group art exhibition is welcome. Free food and alcohol if that would also entice some of your characters! And probably quite middle-upper class people too, pretending to care about art, if that floats anyone’s boat.))

[Owen Walsh]

Owen wandered the gallery respectfully, stopping to stare intently at each of the paintings, sculptures and photographs for the requisite amount of time. He was interested in art in an intellectual, academic sort of way -- able to name cutting-edge artists, throw out the right vocabulary, identify which pieces were seen as particularly important and interesting -- but he couldn't say he was moved by the art in any way. Having an emotional reaction to a painting was about as foreign to him as weeping over an advertisement for dog food, so the enjoyment he got from dropping cash on art he liked was more akin to investing in a stock that was just about to explode. Only rather than a monetary reward, he gained yet another marker of upper-middle-class-approved 'good taste'.

He blinked at the portrait of Helena before turning away to focus on a large painting with a few people gathered around it. He silently sipped his wine, standing there just a smidge longer than he had with the other pieces. "Excuse me," Owen spoke quietly to the man standing closest to him, "Do you know the artist who painted this?"

[Isaac Lehrer]

Isaac, mid-sip and gazing thoughtfully at the sculpture, took a moment to realise someone was actually speaking to him and then he came to, meeting Owen's gaze. "Oh hullo, sorry I was rather distracted," he quickly explained in apology with a faintly embarrassed smile before he turned his attention to the painting the other man was standing in front of. Barely looking at it for a moment - he didn't need to study it, he knew its distinctive style - he nodded, "Yes actually, that has to be one of Simone's, Simone Mathis, you know?" he answered.

"So are you a fan of this kind of art?" he asked conversationally, inclining his head to Simone's painting. Then, he paused as he regarded the man, he seemed strangely familiar yet he could not place him. "I feel as though I know you from somewh-... aah! You're a relative of Helena's aren't you, Helena Armitage?" he prompted, adding in explanation, "I'm a friend, Isaac Lehrer," Isaac introduced himself politely with a soft smile.

[Owen Walsh]

"Of course. I didn't mean to bother you," Owen spoke quickly, taking a step back out of reflex. "Ah. I know the name, not the woman. I'm sure she'll be back soon. You don't happen to know if she has an agent or a dealer here?" Owen carefully looked the man up and down, decided 'artist' and nodded once to himself.

"Well... generally no, actually. That's the thing. I've always found peace in minimalism, but this... this is something different for me. This... I was drawn to. It's exquisite." Perhaps the explanation was a lie, but Owen was so committed to his role that he almost believed it. He put his hand to his chin and stood silently for a moment before Isaac started speaking again. "Oh. Yes. Distant relative. Owen Walsh. I rather hope you don't recognize the surname, it's never anything good," he laughed stiffly before taking a sip of wine. "Isaac, of course. You photographed Helena. I've seen your work; she speaks about you often. I wish I'd known, I would have paid you a compliment earlier. Helena... likes things done right, I assure you that when she likes someone it's high praise," he said while forcing a smile, looking more like he was hitting on the man than anything else.

[Isaac Lehrer]

Isaac chuckled softly and shook his head, "You're not, I just sometimes forget I'm surrounded by people, that's a problem on my end, not anything you have done," he added light-heartedly to brush away the other male's apology. "Simone's a good friend, she'll be flattered by the attention, and I have just seen her, she's around somewhere," Isaac assured him as he glanced around the room in search of her familiar blonde hair or trying to pick out an Australian accent amongst the chatter. "Anyway, I'm sure she'd be more than thrilled to introduce herself, and her agent," he concluded as he paused to take a sip of wine.

Raising an eyebrow he regarded Owen thoughtfully as he spoke of the painting, looking between him and the artwork itself while he did so. "How odd, in a good sense of the word, believe me. Do you have many pieces yourself then?" he asked curiously as he tried to remember whether he'd ever seen the man around at similar openings previously. "Ah, 'Owen', of course," Isaac nodded with a smile, offering his hand to shake the other man's out of natural politeness, "Oh, no, uh- it's not the surname, Helena often speaks of your mum, and you, obviously. And your brother, who I gather made some indelicate comments about Hel's modelling shoots, though she found it quite a laugh apparently," he smiled in amusement himself at this.

Mid-sip his lips twitched into a smile and he swallowed, lowering his glass once more before answering, "Yes, guilty as charged," Isaac replied with a laugh, "She is a beautiful woman, her look is quite... classic, almost ethereal at times and it lends itself to my work very easily hence our frequent... collaborations, shall we call them?" Gaze flickering back to the sculpture he seemed surprised as Owen started to talk of paying him a compliment. Turning back to face him properly, Isaac appeared genuinely humbled and grateful, "Oh well now, I'm flattered, thank you, that is extraordinarily kind of you to say so. And yes, Helena knows her own mind, that much is certain... though I have to say I quite like that about her," he admitted quietly with a meaningful, knowing look at Owen as they spoke of Helena's personality.

[Helena Armitage]

((ooc: Apologies, couldn't resist bringing Helena in on the scene.))

"How are my two men?" Helena asked cheerfully, smoothly sidling up beside Owen and softly placing a hand on his shoulder initially to catch his attention before she looked between him and Isaac curiously. "I trust I'm not interrupting anything?" she asked, perfectly arched eyebrow raising in wonder as there was something a little suggestive and knowing about her manner. But that probably had more to do with the glasses of wine she'd consumed than observing the pair's conversation from afar as she'd crossed the room to them.

Idly swirling the dregs of wine left in her glass, she asked, "Not being too harsh on your own photograph I hope Isaac dear? Because I rather think it's one of your best and, yes, I am rather biased as I am part of it but I care not if I appear egotistical, it is still wonderful!" she assured him as she paused to step towards him to kiss him on either cheek in a manner of greeting, resting a hand momentarily on his chest as she inched away again. "You're looking charming tonight, new shirt?" she asked lightly, retreating then to stand beside Owen. "Owen, how are you finding tonight? I did not know you were an art fan," she replied, taken aback somewhat, but not unpleasantly so, as she smiled warmly at him.

[Owen Walsh]

"I've acquired a few pieces, yes. Just for my flat, for myself. I'm the only one who ever sees them, really. I'm a fan of Thomas Colbert, who... organized this event, I suppose," Owen explained while gesturing with his glass. He looked momentarily relieved when Isaac didn't mention Aaron -- he despised meeting people when it meant immediately launching into the same exact conversation. 'Yes, those Walshes' and 'No, we had no idea'. The other man had to know; everyone did. Owen just didn't want to talk about it. "Well, my brother is nineteen. He still has time to grow into a proper human being. I actually... know of your brother as well. Michael Lehrer, yes? Though I must admit we are not what you would call friends."

Owen looked at Isaac suspiciously, not entirely sure what that look was supposed to signify. "As do I," he answered stiffly before whipping his head around as Helena suddenly appeared, apparently magically summoned by mentions of her beauty. "Oh. No! Just... having a chat, nice chat," he managed to spit out while looking down at the floor and coughing slightly. "Well, I am," he spoke with a strange certainty, as if trying to convince everyone that he wasn't merely stalking Helena. "I recently bought one of Thomas's pieces. I'm hoping to speak to Simone Mathis. I think her work is stunning, frankly."

[Isaac Lehrer]

Isaac nodded in understanding as Owen's explained his collecting habits, "Of course, it's great that you're able to have your favourite pieces for your own personal collection. Have you talked to Tom tonight? Don't mention you're a 'fan' though or the word might just go to his head just a little bit," he commented jokingly with a smile at the other man. "Yes, if he is nineteen then he definitely has time to grow, or perhaps stop making inappropriate jokes at the very least," he agreed, taking a sip of wine to cover up the slight grimace which changed his expression as Owen mentioned Michael. "Just as I imagine you think 'oh, brilliant' when someone connects your surname to your father, I too feel that way when someone connects 'Lehrer' to Michael. Seven Lehrer children and yet Michael outshines us all in every aspect... not that I've held onto this since childhood, can you tell?" Isaac turned it into a dry joke with a convincing enough laugh that would suggest he was being light-hearted about the whole matter, pretending to be a younger brother shrinking in the limelight of his much more outwardly successful older brother. It wasn't an act. "He was friends with your father though, wasn't he?" he questioned curiously, "I assume that's how you know of him?"

He had to hide a laugh as Helena appeared suddenly beside Owen, very much as if she'd heard her name being discussed from across the room and had hastened to investigate. "You are interrupting nothing, Hel, just a chat as Owen here said," he assured her soberly before smiling in greetng as she leaned forward to kiss him on both cheeks. "It is, thank you, your approval on my fashion choices is always nice to hear," he agreed as she turned to speak to Owen then about art. "Don't mind Hel, she's just trying to create amusement for herself," he murmured in a stage-whisper to Owen over the rim of his glass, shooting a perfectly innocent smile at the woman as she turned to mock-glare at him for that comment. "How about I track down Simone for you? She can't be too far and I know she would love to speak to someone who's shown such a keen interest in her work," Isaac suggested, looking between Owen and Helena before smiling softly, "If you'll excuse me, I'll be back, hopefully accompanied by a lovely blonde Australian artist."

[Helena Armitage]

Her hand slipping down from his shoulder, "Oh, darling I was just joking," Helena waved her hand as though brushing it off in a blasé manner when Owen seemed to stumble over his words and Isaac hastened to add that she was interrupting nothing. She hadn't seriously thought they'd been deep in intellectual discussion or else hitting it off in an entirely different manner... Owen was incredibly too straight-laced for that and, though she wasn't quite sure on Isaac's sexual preference (and, yes, they had slept together once, initiated by her), she knew Owen would not quite be his type somehow.

"Mmm well, this one I like, not quite so sure about that blue floral number you seem to be fond of," she pointed out but smiled in amusement, "Darling I'm kidding, my approval or otherwise will not alter your choices in the slightest." Draining the last of the wine in her glass then, her head whipped back round to send a mock-glare Isaac's way as he joked about her 'creating amusement for herself' by seemingly interrogating Owen about his love for art which she'd considered rather sudden. Helena shook her head slightly, "You know this is just my way, Owen, I didn't mean offence or to insinuate anything," she assured him softly with a coy smile before nodding, "Oh Tom is a darling, have you met him?" Breaking away slightly as Isaac excused himself to go hunt down Simone she smiled simperingly at him, "You will make sure to get the artist for Owen's purposes and not yourself and your own, hmm?" she shot at him teasingly as he turned away with a laugh. Then she turned her full attention back to Owen, "You like Simone's artwork then? I'm curious, what is it in particular that you like about it?"

[Steven Cheng-Mariano]

(ooc: I'll bring Hannah in once I have an idea for her, promise!)

"Ballsaac! Where's Simona Lisa?" Steve greeted Isaac Lehrer jovially, waving an arm as he stuffed his face with cheese. While Isaac the Writer filled him with barely suppressed jealous rage, he found Isaac the Photographer perfectly acceptable. Plus, he was looking forward to meeting the woman who'd become the subject of so many of his portraits. She sounded both filthy rich and mean, which appealed to him deeply -- like hanging with a Real Housewife. (Also, Steve was endlessly fascinated by Isaac's ambiguous-if-existent sexuality. He'd been reading a lot of Foucault, okay.)

"That guy's a real d-bag," Steve noted as they passed a tall bearded man, not even bothering to lower his voice. "And that's coming from me. I'm not sure this is my scene, come to think of it. It's not in an abandoned meat packing plant, none of my exes are sticking themselves in bear traps as a form of performance art, no one's on drugs but me... I hate to say it, but this is no way to throw an art opening."

[Isaac Lehrer]

((ooc: Sounds great, I’m gonna bring in Michael later, doubt that helps out on the Hannah front but yeah… ))

“Steve! Charming as ever, mate,” Isaac greeted the other guy who seemed to insist on using that oh-so-lovely nickname whenever he saw him, “No idea, I’m actually trying to locate her for an interested party, interested in her painting that is,” he smiled, lifting his glass to take a sip of wine, a sip which he duly choked on as Steve called someone a ‘real d-bag’. Discreetly glancing back at the bearded man they’d just passed he groaned slightly and said in an undertone, “That’s Richard Douglas-Howe… he’s bought my art before. Thanks, I suppose he won’t be doing that anymore,” he shot a faux-glare at Steve at this as they stopped beside another painting.

Then, he shrugged at Steve’s idea of an art opening, “Well… your ‘scene’ is a lot more… experimental and theatrical than Tom’s organisational style,” he noted diplomatically, choosing his words carefully before holding a hand up in defence, “Hey, I mean, if you want to try to persuade him otherwise, be my guest, but please don’t expect much success,” Isaac chuckled, shaking his head slightly at the idea of Thomas Colbert being associated with anything to do with performance art. “If it’s not your scene then, and yes I probably should dread your response to this question, why did you come? Not that I don’t appreciate your support and company, naturally,” he assured him light heartedly.

[Steven Cheng-Mariano]

"I didn't actually think you were pimping Simone out. Just FYI," Steve said while chewing on a toothpick. "Though really, who knows with that girl? This 'interested party' is probably old as balls, but loaded, so..." he made a 'weighing' motion with his hands as he considered it. He then glanced behind them as the bearded man shot him a look. And... it wasn't even the guy he was thinking of. Whoops. "Relaaaax, princess. He knows it was me. I have a very distinctive voice. Anyway, two surnames are only acceptable when your mother marries an Italian man but still wants you to remember your cultural heritage. Not when you're trying to be... doubly posh. Makes me hate him all the more, really."

Steve stopped in front of the next painting before looking over at Isaac. "If there's anything I enjoy more than enjoying things, it's not enjoying them. I am fueled by bitterness. Hatred is my life blood," he deadpanned. All things considered, it was slightly less painful than silently mocking people at a poetry reading, as he was wont to do. "Anyway, these are still artists. I'm sure there's a weird, volatile one in the bunch and I intend to figure out exactly who that is."

[Isaac Lehrer]

“Hmmm, I probably didn’t actually need to clarify, did I?” he supposed aloud, momentarily chewing his bottom lip in a show of faux worry at this before he shrugged it off, “I hate to rain on your parade but he wasn’t ‘old as balls’ or old at all for that matter. He was young, probably around her age. He is, however, distantly related to Helena so the chances are that he not only comes from money but also has money. So, right with one guess at least.” Turning to face Steven he frowned, “I resent that term of address,” Isaac replied before shaking his head, not being able to help but chuckle at the other guy’s disapproval of double barrelled surnames, “Not at all acceptable if you’re upper-middle class? I feel you should allow some other people two surnames… Hispanic naming customs for one, mean that people officially have the paternal followed by the maternal surname,” he pointed out lightly. “And yes, the boring points go to yours truly once again for knowing that,” he added self-deprecatingly.

Shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have needed to ask, I should have known about your penchant for suffering through things so you can remain bitter,” Isaac agreed with a smile at Steve’s deadpan expression. “Yes, we are still artists. Good luck with your most noble of quests, do let me know who you decide on, won’t you? I think I can quite safely assume you've ruled me out already.”

[Steven Cheng-Mariano]

"Well, then, fuck," Steve said while shrugging and throwing his hands up. "Someone should hit that, then. At least teach him how to blow his money on coke and hookers. What's your read on this guy? Straight?" He wasn't really all that concerned, but was desperate for entertainment after standing around silently all evening. He tilted his head to the side to concede to Isaac's point. "Fair enough. I guess my name would be the wrong way round, then. Is that why I've been kicked out of so many quinceañeras?"

"I figure I've got alienation, loss, misery and drinking, so all that's left to being a great writer is, you know, a book." Steve had been steadily developing his hard outer shell and ironic detachment since early childhood. If there was a better way to deal with life, Steve was fairly certain no one had discovered it yet. "Frankly, I need to finish reading Foucault before I can delve into your business. Also, if you were volatile you would have tried to punch me in the face a long time ago. Which I would not object to, by the way. A good bar fight has long been missing from my list of authorly experiences."

[Isaac Lehrer]

Isaac shook his head, "I'm not so sure, he didn't exactly seem the type to buy coke and/or hookers," he remarked before shrugging, "I'd say he was extremely straight but then again I'm also fairly certain I'm a terrible judge of sexuality, full-stop," he admitted quietly. "Of course, that will be precisely why you'd be kicked out, nothing else you'd do I'm sure," he agreed sarcastically.

"You forgot bouts of self-loathing," he pointed out solemnly, downing the last of the wine from his glass before adding, gesturing to him with the now-empty glass, "You did have a book. I mean, technically, you could probably do with writing another. I know, how absurd the idea of a writer actually writing a book," he joked with him good naturedly.

Turning away to deposit his empty wine glass on a nearby table, when he faced Steve once more he wore a small, curious smile, "Oh is that so? Well, what has Foucault been saying about me so far? Nothing too terrible or alarming I hope. But, 'volatility', no, I can say that without a shadow of a doubt. I grew up with boisterous older brothers and bullying at school, dealing with it the only way I knew how... hide and cower until you a) graduated and b) watched your brothers move out to their own places. That tends to make for introverted, quiet adults, sadly, not Tyler Durden-esque 'punch me, I want to know what it's like to be in a fight' individuals. Sorry to disappoint, mate."