Partying around Town

[Asa]

"Sweet, innocent little Tracy?" Asa asked, giving Vaeltia a dubious look. He gave an 'I don't see it' shrug.

"I just know her from seeing her here, so you may know her better," he added, downplaying his relationship with the Gangrel while being completely honest. Of course, 'here', also included downstairs.

"So, she's modeled for you? Are you a photographer?"

Asa leaned forward slightly, interest animating his features.

I hope she hasn't been that careless.

[Vae]

Vaeltia returned his ( Asa ) shrug with one of her own. “Sure, innocent, right.” She said flicking her gaze up at him.

“As for me being a photographer, sometimes, but she won’t let me take pictures. I wish, it would be so much easier to capture the emotion, the movement, the underlying everything that comes out when she dances. It’s beautiful and perfect, but she won’t let me take pictures.” She fully gestured through her speech.

“No, I’m mostly a painter, I currently have a few sketches of her on my wall of inspiration that will eventually become a portrait. Unfortunately our schedules clash for time, and I can only get her weekend nights.” She let out a sigh, she did like the attention, even if the conversation was on another woman.

[Tracy Burns]

Tracy couldn't resist the urge to laugh at Max's addition to her order, shaking her head slightly. "If I actually end up finding any real sand in my drink," said the redheaded Gangrel, squinting her eyes slightly at the Mekhet. "It will totally be your fault!" Her expression returned to normal, as a grin formed on her soft lips.

However, his next words caught her by surprise, as her emerald green eyes widened. "Huh? Wait, did you just..." the petite Deputy let her words trail off, tilting her head slightly to one side. "And who may this someone be?" Her eyes fixated on his as she awaited for his answer.

Well, that was certainly unexpected...

[Max Heinz]

*Max returns the grin, shrugging his shoulders slightly.* Oh, come on now, everyone needs a little more silicon in their diet. It's good for the bones...

*He waits for Tracy's reaction to the statement, thankful when all of his limbs remained attached as she thinks over what he had just said.* ... Volunteer you? *He says, half asking as he finishes her sentence.* Not quite. I assume you remember Ms Keyes, from the unfortunate incident at Avalon a few months ago?

Well, I had a rather interesting discussion with her, Ms Donovan, and Mr Wooding at Asylum some time ago. She mentioned she would like to learn more about the whole... methodology of what went on there... *The thin Mekhet makes a circular motion with his free hand, as if trying to encompass the whole of what went on at the club.*

I mentioned that you had been helping my understand the academic side of it all; and that you were the one person I would trust to perform any educational activities. She seemed receptive to the idea, and asked that I mention it to you...

*Another soft shrug from Max, and the thin Mekhet lifts the whiskey to his mouth and mimes taking a drink and swallowing. Perhaps he was trying to keep up the appearance of being mortal. Perhaps it was a nervous tick. Or perhaps he was desperately debating whether it would be worth it to down the whole glass right now...*

[Asa]

"A painter," Asa acknowledge, nodding. He tilted his glass again, finishing the Manhattan.

He was glad Tracy wasn't being careless; she wouldn't be the first neonate he'd seen who didn't know everything about photos. Curiosity satisfied, he was content to let the topic of Tracy pass, and downplay their connection.

"That seems to be dying art, with all the digital media, and the spread of information really encourages trends and group think over individuality -- at least, from what I've seen."

He had noticed how everything was beginning to look the same. Every few years, they would renovate the businesses, and designers would present the same colors and fixtures that every magazine and TV show were pushing.

Asa wasfairly sure he wasn't just 'getting old'.

[Vae]

“There’s something about paint, the texture of acrylic or oil as it smoothes over canvas or wood or metal. The feel of the weight of it on the brush or in your hands.” she said her hands turing upwards and her gaze calculating as she looked them over.

Vaeltia looked back at the man who was encouraging alcohol, “Each stroke has meaning, each pass of the brush, a movement that comes from a part of you. It’s not just art, it’s like the display of something bigger, if that even makes any sense. Sometimes it’s not even like I’m painting, just that I’m discovering the picture as it displays itself to me.”

She sighted, “Besides portraiture is an even further dying art, unless you decide to go into caricature. That’s probably one of the reasons I stick with landscapes more than half the time.” She lifted the next drink (White Russian), and sipped it carefully. “Hmmm, I like this one.”

[Asa]

"It sounds like you enjoy what you do," Asa replied.

A part of him pitied the girl. She would never see or feel what she spoke of the way Kindred could, nor be able to devote centuries to her craft rather than decades. He'd seen works of art that had taken longer in the making than her life would span, some driven by people like herself, some driven by the intensity of the Blood. Yet, she'd found something she enjoyed, and cared about -- which was saying more than most Kine or Kindred could.

"As for portraits and caricatures, not everyone enjoys seeing themselves through the lens of another. On a more practical note, hand-made art is becoming less and less affordable for most people. Please don't take that as an indictment of value, it's just one of the facets of the 'good enough' MP3 society that's evolving."

Asa glanced down at the drink she was holding.

"That was the White Russian."