A long skirt with a few gypsy ruffles lightly swishes as she walks in through the gallery main doors. Her long boots keep her calves warm, with the length of the skirt; a dark green colour, brushing around her ankles. The knitted top is creamy coloured, belted around her waist with a simple but thick affair, its long sleeves drawing down to her hands and the large neck threatened to droop off a shoulder. It wasn't too big for her but styled that way. Dangled earrings of green and amber gems clink softly whenever she turns her head, drawing the eye to the angles of her face. Curly copper hair is tied back in a loose bun, a messy thing that is practical more than stylish.

She carries a bottle of red in a paper bag, tucked in her left hand as she wanders through the hall to find Edward. Having been here a few times now she knows his general location, or at least his favourite haunts, but takes her time navigating through the gallery so she can quietly admire the current works.

Ed is a portly older man with white hair but he works with the vigor of a man easily 20 years younger. Rachel will find him shoving furniture around to accomidate the new hung paintings by himself in the west wing that is just beginning to become sun filled as the afternoon gets on.

Ed always dresses professional, even when hes all by himself doing manual labor. His black slacks show smudges of dust and his white shirts sleeves are rolled up and collar unbuttoned. When he hears the click of her boots and swishing of her skirts he will look up, wipe his brow and smile.

'Ah, Rachel my dear, is it one already?'

He glances at his wrist, even though he either took off or lost his watch already.

'Oh well. How are you?'

"It is.." She says, smiling warmly and a touch bemused at the way he glances at the non-existent watch.

Without missing a step she had walked over and placed her wine somewhere convenient and offered to help him with the piece of furniture he was moving. "Don't they have young chaps around here? You shouldn't be left doing this yourself." Its lightly spoken, her Louisiana accent is genuinely warmed.

After helping him out, she stands back and places a hand on a softly cocked hip. Her honey eyes twinkle. "Though I suppose they do have clumsy hands."

'Clumsy hands, sticky fingers, and no respect for the beauty they handle.'

Ed returns with a conspiratorial grin. He straightens up again, slightly red in the face from the exertion of moving the furniture and showing his age for just a second as he thanks her quietly for her help.

He surveys the room one last time. Snyders paintings are an odd modern surrealism. Interesting but ultimately forgettable, at least for Ed. A few prominent places are left empty with cards to represent the artist who will be hanging a piece there. By quick survey Rachel would see Ed has left her three slots, one more than any other local artist.

'Come, now i truly owe you lunch.'

Ed will say, picking up the bottle of wine gently and motioning down the hall towards his offices.

She dusts her hands on the back of her skirt and had moved to pick up the bottle but Ed got to it before she had. Smiling, she followed him along the halls, saying nothing of the priority of three slots allocated for her. It was kind of him. She would say so, later, when her attention was drawn to it properly.

"Are you expecting some new talents in up and coming exhibitions?" She's asking of him quietly, moving but a step behind along the hall. "I know that there are a few names roaming around in some particular circles." Her boots are quiet on the floor, she takes care with the way she walks through the halls of the gallery. Places like this and public libraries are reserved for a quietness of voice and movement. Its a subconscious thing; a natural respect with a pensive conscience. Even the most loudest and obnoxious persons are touched by the lull of such places, as if the prose of paints projected their thoughtfulness on that around them.  

Ed has Offices. Plural. He is the sole administator and one permanant employee of this gallery and he inhabits all three of the offices. He seems to pick and choose which one he uses or allows people to enter depending on his mood or the exhibit he is hosting.

Today Ed leads Rachel into his office that goes loosely by 'the red room'. Its walls are a deep crimson and it has a large desk that serves more as a table with four chairs evenly spaced around it. The red room provides a view of the outside and has a few paintings from Eds personal collection on the walls.

'I am hoping to show that our locals are just as good if not better than some of the bigger names of our time. You, my dear, already have Snyder on the ropes. Have you selected any pieces to grace my walls in a week?'

On the desk are an array of sandwiches and soups. When Ed isnt sure what to order he usually covers the entire menu and will treat the lesser staff with whatever is leftover. He will set down the bottle of wine and dig through the desk to produce two glasses.

Heading into the rooms she glanced across the various contrasts of hues and textures. It was a warm room, but more than that, it was a slightly evocative office, bringing to mind what scarlet is usually associated with.

She found herself a seat, and with a sweep of her skirt to one side, she eased down and crossed over her legs. Relaxing back in the chair, she draped an arm across her slender belly and watched him fuss for glasses.

"There's a few options, but I'm really in no mind to be choosing what should be here. Is there any sort of theme that you're looking to showcase or is this just an all out affair?"

"I've started on some portraits, I've a few completed, on the essence of children and the innocence or lack thereof. Associated with the Nations that they are raised or, at least, the environments they are forced to live in and how it seems to effect them."

"Mind you, it's not all third world country and starving children."

"And I have been cautious of the facts that children in art has been quite the rave lately. You know that whole naked children affair that some people called art and others claim that it encouraged and creates a further market place for pedophilia."

"Think of it .. like the snap shots of family photography. I really should have taken some photographs of the finished portraits. But you know me, Edward, I'm quite forgetful at the best of times."

'You have peaked my interest. Select from your finished portraits. Snyders work makes a good backdrop for anything.'

Ed again takes a swing at the artist he is hosting. She must not have made a good impression on him at all. Ed will pop the cork from the bottle and fill both glasses from it.

'I recieved a strange letter about you my dear.'

Ed begins, as if unsure he should even be mentioning it.

'It seems someone has taken a liking to your work and wishes a private viewing for him and a few of his associates.'

She chuckles quietly at his constant criticism of another artists work and imagines that there's quite a few of them around that would get such lip service; herself included, even if not from Ed himself.

"Oh well. That can't be all that bad, can it?" Raising her brows, her own interest perked, she sits a little forward on the chair, leaning an elbow onto the arm of it.

'No. Actually it could be quite good. This particular patron has lots of friends in influential places and plenty of cash to convince the rest. I only say its odd because hes an architect and generally a bit strange...'

Ed gives a small shrug and pushes one of the glasses across the table to Rachel.

"Architects understand the concepts of foundations, structure and also the importance of what pleases the eye. It's not a far fetch that they would be interested in arts." Was the opinion she gives, quite thoughtful in the process, as she plucked the glass from the table. "And it's a he, is it?" Of course there's a little sparkle in her eyes and a smile, smirk, to her mouth as she sips the wine. Pleased.

'Indeed, He is none other than Mister T. Arturo. He seems to have been competing with himself for most obnoxious addition to our skyline for the past twenty years...'

If nothing else, Ed is very opinionated. It seems there no middle ground, noone is ever just okay. His passionate assessments of everything from paint to people mean he either loves you or hates you. Theres no in beetween.

Ed will take a sip and set his glass down, digging out the letter with Arturos offer to hand over to Rachel since she seems very interested and he would be the last to try and keep her from an opportunity, even if he thinks the man is an industrious swine.

'It seems he wont take no for an answer either my dear, hes already reserved you an entire wing at the Museum.'

"Even those with a bad reputation is still a step into the lime light, isn't it? Or your advice is to stay clear from this one?"

After a quick sip of her wine, she leaned forward and set the glass on the table before taking the letter from Ed. Relaxing back in her chair she began to unfold the letter, pausing at such an impacting statement.

"A wing at the museum? I'm good but not that good." A little startled by such a prospect she set her gaze to the letter to read.

'Oh no, dont let my feelings for the man discourage you. He presents a good opportunity, just dont start acting like him or we cant have lunch dates anymore.'

Ed smiles broadly and lets her read the letter. He will busy himself fetching the platter of sandwiches.

The letter is exactly as Edward had said, filled with praise for Rachels work. Arturos compliments border on obsessive and he names almost every piece she has ever sold. He tells that he reserved the 4th floor modern art gallery and wishes a private display of her work for him and a 'select group of his friends and colleauges'. He also offers to compensate her whatever she wishes for the viewing.

Her gaze shifts as she reads line after line on the paper, lips pursed at first before she gets quite the perplexed expression on her features. A little frown fights with the twitching curl at the side of her mouth, until she finally settles on a helpless gesture to Ed. "I really don't know what to think of this!" In truth her heart was racing with such prospects. It could be a break. "I don't want to be too greedy. That I'll have my work casing in the museum is more than enough... and it's very tempting to charge quote an amount for it since.. well you know, he seems quite enthusiastic."

The woman is quite blown away by this and takes a moment to drink some wine and steal one of those small sandwiches from a platter. She nibbles at it thoughtfully with the letter in her lap.

"Have you met him, personally?"

'Just once or twice. He donates large sums of money and the occassional sculpture to the Cullen Garden.'

Ed helps himself to one of the sandwiches but leaves it on the napkin in front of him.

'I suppose i may be being a bit harsh. He is quite generous and seems well liked. They have a small ceremony everytime something gets added to the sculpture garden and since he ususally donates the piece, hes a big part of the event yet he always shows up hours late and offers no explanation.'

Ed sips at his wine again, reining in his feelings and thoughts before he suggests, simply:

'You should do it. Let him pay for your rent for a year and throw a big show for his friends. You really come out on top no matter how this goes. Its not like he doesnt have the money...'

"Pay my rent for a year?" She's laughing, delightfully. "Oh really! I couldn't do that!" But it's tempting and she's considering the option. If she didn't have to work as hard just to pay her way, in a year she could devote quite a bit of time to studies and plenty of new works. Oh it's tempting. Her eyes glitter with it.

"Either way, I'll be sure to keep out lunch dates." Rachel tells him, trying to humble the situation. "Without you, dear Edward, I wouldn't have had such an opportunity."

"Shall I go with my current collection then?" Returning the conversation to why she was here, even if the letter in her lap set her thighs smoldering with the temptations of greed.

'Im just the middle man who hangs paintings.'

Ed tells her with a dismissive wave. He finally picks up his sandwich for a bite, halting their conversation for a moment while he chews.

'The portraits sound great. If you have three or four with darker palattes i think we can set up some nice contrast with what will be hung around you.'