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Dr B. You have not responded to my letters in some time now and I grow worried for not only the wellbeing of my sister but you as well.I have nothing to say that I have not stated in previous lessons, I await your answer.Sincerely, G. Moon-------------“That's the artist's muse. Her name was Elizabeth.” The short man explained to Scar, who had been confused by the paintings in front of him. Portraiture had never been Scar's area of patronage so he was naturally curious about the nature of the artwork.“Was? Did she change her name or something?” Scar forced a laugh in an attempt to amuse the odd stranger.“She's dead.” The man didn't waste a moment responding to Scar in a way which did not invite him to respond again. Scar wasn't really sure what to say. Did he defend himself by assuring that he did actually assume the woman was dead so the man didn't think him a fool? Did he offer condolences? Did he interrogate the man on how he knows that?“What was her relation to the painter?” He settled on, hardly acknowledging the man's uncomfortable statement.His face brightened at that question, though. He finally turned to look at Scar and spoke with a smile, “She was his wife.”
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Joel's eye twitched with fury as the loud knock on the door behind him caused the glass of water in his hand to jerk, spilling its contents all over him. It took roughly every muscle in his body, and then some, to keep himself from screaming in frustration and punching through the canvas in front of him.“What are you painting?” Mr. Goodtimes peeked around the thick wooden door behind Joel, just as he craned his own neck around to see just who was knocking on the door.“It's your car. The thing you're paying me to paint.” Joel replied incredulously. Normally it'd be pretty unacceptable for Joel to talk in such a way to the man paying for him, but Mr. Goodtimes has been paying him for over a year now, and the two had become quite comfortable with each other. Joel was sure there was no issue.“I’m getting with the times, Scar.” Joel stood from his stool. “Plus it's nowhere near done yet, anyway. Of course it doesn't look right, you should know that by now.” He avoided Scars gaze as he wiped his paintbrush dry on his rag, before contemplating whether or not to attempt dabbing himself dry. Whatever, he thought, his waistcoat should cover it up anyway.“Where are you taking us today then?” He questioned as he buttoned up his waistcoat and tossed his jacket over his shoulders, holding back a curse at how close he came to knocking his pot of paint water once again.“Nowhere. Grian wants to talk to us.” That was odd, Joel thought. Mr. Grian Moon had been Scars neighbour since he'd first moved to London, and was, in Joel's humble opinion, a rather eccentric fellow.Most relevantly, though, very rarely did he bother to visit Scar in his own home, at least not while Joel was around. Most of the time, Scar would be called to Mr. Grian's home to talk, and Mr. Grian certainly rarely needed to speak to him.And yet, Joel followed Scar into the drawing room without question anyway, where he was greeted by Mr. Grian as well as another man he recognised but didn't know with a dark moustache and a posture shifting between almost too straight and diabolically hunched every few seconds.“Joel, you already know Grian, but this is Mr. Mumbo Jumbo. Mumbo, this is Mr. Joel Solidarity.” Scar introduced the two, with his hand placed on Joel's upper back as he guided him to sit on the settee opposite the pair.Joel held his hand across the table between them before quickly giving up when Mr Jumbo didn't reciprocate the act. Sometimes Joel regretted moving south. People here sure were peculiar.“I, Mr Solidarity,” Mr. Grian said with a serious frown, putting some really weird emphasis on his name. “Am greatly interested in your.. artist ventures.” Joel had before that moment had never wished more that he could raise a single eyebrow to portray the extent of his disapproval.“Are you interested in buying something, or are you just here to compliment me?” Joel could've said much worse, but if Mr. Grian wanted to buy something he'd best be somewhat polite.“I'd like to hold an exhibition for you at my townhouse.” Mr. Grian finally cut to the chase. It took him long enough, Joel thought. “In fact, I have a good friend who I'd like to introduce you to who I think would be very interested in your works.”It was a fair offer, Joel pausing a moment to consider it. “Which ones?” he finally asked. “My older paintings? My portraits or my landscapes? Or would he like my newer ones more? Because they're very different.”Mr. Grian seemed to draw a blank at that, not even having the mental capacity to stammer a half-response out, nothing coming out of his mouth at all.“Please.” The man next to Mr. Grian finally spoke. For a moment Joel thought he'd imagined it because of how, and forgive Joel for his judgement, utterly pathetic he sounded.He only sat there, mouth hung open for at least twenty seconds. “Excuse me?” he finally settled on, remaining utterly bewildered, letting his eyes drift sideways to Mr. Grian who looked almost purple. That was worrying. “Okay.”The tension in the room immediately settled, Mr. Grian finally breathing again, Scar letting out a deep exhale beside him, though Mr. Jumbo still looked like he was considering throwing himself off the roof at that very moment.“You'll really do it?” Mr. Grian smiled widely as if he couldn't believe it. “Thank you. We'll call on you through Scar when we have updates.” He stood up, dragging Mr. Jumbo with him and out the door, not bothering to let Scar walk them out.“Are they okay?” Joel whipped his head around to Scar, only to find him grinning at the door Mr. Grian had just left through.“What did you say?”