no rules in breakable heaven. [tag; brennan]

There was only one thing for it; she had to bring out the sequins.

Usually, she wasn't so bold but usually, she didn't go six months without going on a date. As a result, she was going great guns. Why? Because once men got to know her, they didn't really stick around. While Perdita didn't think she was desperate, she was dying to get out of the house.

A Londoner by choice, the city came alive after dark. The place was filled with bustling people, restaurants and a bouncing pub culture that would make Americans cry. More than anything else, she was excited. Excited to have someone to meet, excited to have something to do and excited because he was gorgeous. Brennan's good looks weren't obvious. They were that charming blend of elegance, the type that usually came with money, with a little sprinkling of intelligence and a hint of nerdiness. He was smart. She hoped that one day, she'd maybe be able to have a private viewing of his family's gallery.

Checking her reflection in the mirror, she sighed as she tugged on a lock of her short hair that refused to curl as she frowned at herself in the mirror. She'd been interested in Brennan from the first time she'd made him a cup of tea in Mayfair. The stolen art case had since been solved (thanks to her, not the lazy aurors) so really, she didn't have a reason to see him again. It had been weeks since they were now almost into spring and she couldn't help but feel a bit miffed. Why hadn't he asked her out? She thought they'd hit it off. So naturally, Perdita had asked him out instead.

The meeting point was central London in one of the bars she usually frequented - Merlin's. Skipping down the steps of her townhouse, she apparated and appeared not far from the front door, squeezing in past security and handing in her coat as she scanned the crowd. The nerves began to set in. If he'd stood her up, she would absolutely die right on the spot.

Meeting for coffee was too distant and dinner was too intimate so drinks were a nice go-between. It didn't really occur to her that they'd have to strain to hear the conversation but she wasn't averse to going somewhere else instead. It was also very warm in here, so the choice to wear an embellished gown might not have been the best. Looking around, she spotted a familiar head of dark hair and she gave a sigh of relief. She hadn't wanted to go home by herself because the only thing waiting for her there was Pongo, her Dalmatian, and he would certainly judge her.

With care, Perdita slipped through the crowd, using gentle pushes in the small of people's backs to get some room and she eventually popped out again, cheeks pink and eyes sparkling. "Brennan!" She called with a smile as she drew closer to the bar, leaning in to drop a kiss on both of his cheeks as a waft of expensive oriental perfume caught on the breeze generated. "How are you? Have you been waiting long?" She asked, brightly, genuinely interested as she sat on the stool and crossed her long legs at the knee, tilting her head. If she didn't end this night with at least a kiss, she was letting down the entire female species.



@Brennan Reinhardt

 
He had not been expecting Perdita’s invitation when it reached him but by no means had it been unwelcomed. In fact, Brennan had been so keen on the invitation that he had been moved to a half-smirk, one which his assistant inquired about with much interest. But not the type to divulge his secrets, only tease around them, Brennan simply shrugged it off and returned to work, the rest of his day consumed with questions as he considered what might have been the reason for her sudden interest. The circumstances under which they had met, the stolen art case that had thankfully been resolved, had occurred and passed, several newspaper articles along with one press conference had not been enough to cool his grandfather’s anger but it would have to do.

Life had, more or less, returned back to normal and apart from some snide remarks from his family members at dinner over his work ethic and sense of responsibility, the drudgery of routine had taken over. In a way, Brennan had hoped for more excitement at the gallery, hopefully not in the form of stolen art, but settled into working on the next exhibition instead and had become consumed with his work as he at times tended to do when there was no one of the fairer sex to distract him.

Though he would be wrong to say that he had not been interested in Perdita when he laid eyes on her, he had been taken with the witch upon first meeting, there was something so curious about her appearance that made it difficult to stop looking at her, much in the same way that he often stood and stared at a piece of art when he was first attempting to figure it out. He had been taken aback by the way she spoke, but in a good way, and found the way she spoke honest and refreshing, a far cry from the ridiculously “proper” type with which no one could have an enjoyable conversation with.

While Brennan had briefly considered asking her out, he was quick to assume that surely someone that beautiful must have a plethora of men knocking her door down for a date and if her family owned one of those paintings, well, it was only safe to say that on this occasion mentions of wealth or the good standing of his family were probably not going to win him any brownie points. Uncharacteristically, Brennan had given up before trying but in a way, it had been done to save face. How embarrassing it would have been to lose both a precious painting and a precious opportunity. And what would his grandfather had said had he known that his grandson was more busy chasing skirts than recovering lost property. Before he could talk himself into saying anything, their time together had been unfortunately been cut short and that had been it.

But whether he would have done it given another opportunity didn’t matter because here he was, his leg shaking nervously against the barstool as he watched the crowd in search of his date, one hand on a half-empty glass of scotch the other periodically running through his curly black hair. He had found a comfortable and slightly more secluded spot towards the edge of the bar, saving the stool closer to the wall for the girl he was waiting for and hoping that it didn’t give her the impression that he wanted to cage her up from the safety of the crowd. His eyes scanned the room once more before he spotted her finally, straightening his back as he waved her over, in awe of how the dress she wore surrounded her with a sort of glow that made her certainly standout. “Perdita, love, you’ve made it,” he said, his tone carrying a little more disbelief than he intended, “I was worried I’d be stuck talking to my shadow all night,” he added teasingly, a smirk on his face as he caught the scent of her perfume when she leaned forward to kiss his cheeks. He didn’t remember her wearing that last time they met, surely it was a good sign.

“Not at all, just got here myself a little bit ago, I don’t spend much time in central London for leisure, it’s certainly a nice change of pace,” he confessed, willing her to sit down as he turned towards the bartender to wave him over. “But if I get to spend time with such a gorgeous lady as yourself, I might find myself coming back to these parts more often,” he said jokingly, though he was certainly being honest. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, “I must admit I was a bit surprised to hear from you so I must ask are we here on business or pleasure?” he asked. He reckoned it might have been a bit bold but it was best to get the pleasantries out of the way before he got the wrong idea and embarrassed himself. Though he figured he’d already done plenty of that.

"Hello," Perdita responded cheerfully as she grinned, amused at his apparent surprise. As she greeted him, she made a mental note about the material of his jacket; understated but expensive. Lovely. "Lucky shadow," she joked as she took the invitation to sit quickly. "And it's Perdy, please," she told Brennan swiftly. The only person who called her by her full name was her mother and it both unnerved and alarmed her.

"Really?" Perdy asked, surprised at Brennan's revelation about not coming into town often. "Oh you're missing out," she said with a smile as she looked around the busy bar. Perdita didn't have the decency to blush at his compliment but she did bob her head in thanks. She'd take a compliment because she knew she looked good, she'd put the work in tonight especially and she'd always found it tiresome when people because embarrassed or batted the nice words back at the giver.

"That's very kind, thank you," the tall brunette replied demurely as she smoothed her hands down her skirt, flashing him a lopsided grin. "You should definitely stop by more often," she added in a breezy tone, thinking it was a travesty that he was missing out on the wonderful city. "It's a big place. Lots to do and I make a wonderful tour guide. My rates are very reasonable. A gin and tonic, please," she ordered from the barman with a polite smile.

She gave a genuine laugh at Brennan's comment. It was so wonderfully...twee. It was direct, in an indirect sort of way. Charming, really. "Oh always pleasure," she joked as her drink was mixed, pulling it towards her by the stem and taking a small sip. "I find you handsome and wanted to get to know you, outside of the art theft and the mild panic." It was an uncharacteristically bold and honest move but she didn't want to play games. "I had a dream about your cheekbones." Her big blue eyes flicked up to his face as she watched him, looking out for any signs of alarm before she grinned at him to break the ice.

"And I'm a little curious," she admitted as she absently poked at the slice of lemon in her drink with her straw. "My superiors didn't tell me what happened with your painting but I'm glad it was returned to you. They didn't say how they found it. Merlin forbid it was found in a dumpster or something." Pausing, she visibly winced. The idea of finding a priceless painting launched in between some binbags was enough to cause her physical harm. These things usually ended either two ways; a ransom was paid or it was anonymously "handed in".

"How is the gallery?" She asked as she folded her hands on the bar, her long fingers interlocked casually. "I'd overheard a couple of the Aurors in passing chatting about the case a few weeks back," she began gently. "They mentioned they'd been invited to the Reinhardt gallery after hours for a private viewing as a thank you for solving the case. I'm assuming my invite was lost in the post." Here, she paused suggestively before she smiled. There was every chance she'd misheard and there wasn't a secret exhibition but she couldn't help but feel a little nettled by it. After all, out of everyone who had worked the case, she would have been the one to appreciate it the most.

“Perdy,” he repeated, enjoying the way the shortened form of her name rolled off of his tongue, two syllables he hoped to be putting together in the months to come. It must mean something, did it not? He did not go around giving others shortened forms of his name if he intended to never see them again; it assumed a sort of familiarity he did not share with the many people he met daily, always-on business and rarely for pleasure. “Then you must call me Bren, I insist,” he replied with a light smile. It was a pet name he had acquired as a young kid and much more in tune with his personality than the longer form of it.

“Are they? Well if they’re reasonable I must say I am much more inclined to take you up on your offer, I’ve always been a sucker for a good discount, especially at the bidding of such a pretty lady, too,” he replied slyly, hoping that the harmless flirting they were engaging in would not be taken the wrong way. He liked her energy, a much-welcomed difference to the arrogant women he often found himself in the company of whether at work or when he paid for their time. Maybe it was the fact that he did not go out much or maybe it was because he was no good at small talk but he always found pretty faces a little lackluster when it came to their personality. The gem before him, however, well she was someone he was intent on getting to know a little more. “You heard the lady,” he added as he turned to the bartender, sliding some money in his direction, much more than necessary as it was Brennan’s second nature to show off his wealth, with a grin. “Keep the change,” he added.

“Pleasure it is then, well I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” he added, taking another measured sip from his drink, unable to contain a chuckle at her compliment, it didn’t make any sense to him. Brennan had never considered himself particularly handsome, not that he had some sort of self-esteem issue but rather had always felt much more successful winning others, particularly those of the opposite sex, with charisma and of course the incredible wealth that came with anyone associated with the Reinhardt family name. He liked to think that his cousin @Wolfgang Reinhardt had inherited the good looks but in turn, he had inherited the capability of intellect and the charm to convince anyone to do his bidding. “My cheekbones, you say?” he chuckled a little lasciviously, “Maybe tonight you’ll have a little more than just cheekbones appearing in your dreams,” he added with a wink.

“Ah-ha, so you’ve come to get the tale out of me,” he replied though there was no ill will in his voice. The case had been an interesting one even if it had almost cost him his position at the gallery. He had been grateful for her input then, thankful that he had not so easily been relayed to a long list of suspects and that his insistence that he had nothing to do with it had actually been proven true. Brennan ran the gallery, for Merlin’s sake, why on Earth would he want to tarnish its reputations with talk of a stolen painting? It was not as if the gallery was desperate for guests or for artwork for that matter. In the end, as did most things in life, everything was resolved with a little persuasion and a lot of cash. “We had to pay a sum for it, though it was not nearly as much as what it was worth, I figure either the criminals got scared or better yet, they’d stolen the piece and did not understand it’s value. That’s what you get when petty criminals try to get involved in the fine arts,” he joked. It was easy to laugh about now that it had been found. “They got in after-hours with the help of one of the cleaning crew, obviously he’s been severely reprimanded and fired.”

“Yes, my grandfather wanted to thank the team of what he called hard working lads doing the good work and whatnot. Unfortunately, I’m not allowed anywhere near the invitation lists after I...invited a few questionable guests to my cousin’s last birthday party,” he chuckled at the thought. It had been a joke that his grandfather had not taken kindly to. “But he hasn’t a clue how I’ve set up the storage system or the gallery and I haven’t the intention to tell him. I’ve taken to keeping some of the work at home as well, considering my security has never presented any issues. If you’d like a--private viewing of the art or my apartment, all you need do is say the word and you’re more than welcome, I can always appreciate another perspective on some of my favorite pieces,” he added, his voice lowering just slightly as he leaned forward a little. “How is it that you’ve so much interest in art, love?”

"Bren," Perdita replied with a smile. It suited him better, a more youthful edge. She usually gave her name was such because she was downright bored of people mispronouncing her name. She bounced from per-dee-tah to purr-ditt-tah and she sometimes came across everything in between (such as Penelope, Persephone and her all time favourite, Pandora) but frankly, she was bored. If she wanted anyone screaming her name, she preferred they got it right.

"Marvellous," the brunette smiled, her feline eyes sparkling in the dim light. It was just flirting and it wasn't going to cause any harm. "I'll give you my card," she joked lightly. She did have a card but it didn't showcase her Ministry talents. As Bren made a move of giving the bartender extra money, she playfully rolled her eyes. Perdita would love to say that boys splashing their cash didn't impress her but unfortunately, they did.

She crossed her legs casually, grinning decidedly irreligiously. "Your cheekbones," Perdy told Brennan again as she tilted her head. Poor guy, it wasn't his fault. Some women were attracted to kind eyes, smiles, large hands but not her. She liked strong jaw lines, the type that looked as though they could be carved from marble by Renaissance masters; sharp, cold, strong. She bit softly on her lower lip before she laughed - not to impress him but because he was genuinely hilarious - before she nodded. "Is that a threat or a promise?" She asked coyly as she chewed on the slice of lemon absently. She knew she was laying it on thick but time was of the essence.

"Guilty as charged," she laughed as she held her hands up, palms outwards, in the international symbol of surrender. She listened with rapt attention, resting her chin in an upturned palm as Brennan spoke and she found herself frowning. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "It really shouldn't have come to the point of you paying ransom. That's the whole point of the Ministry," she added darkly, feeling bristled as though this was a personal attack. "I'm really glad it's back in your safe hands." Large, safe hands, she noticed. The right size to cup one of her bum cheeks in.

"Christ, really?" Perdita asked, her big blue eyes wide in mild shock. The cleaners, who knew? She felt comfortable in Bren's presence. He was warm and friendly and easy-going. She was relaxed and willing to share details, funnily enough.

Again, her eyes widened but for very different reasons. "You didn't?" Perdita hooted. He'd invited what sounded like strippers to a party where his grandfather would be attending. Glorious. Perdy was nursing a crush but now she thought she might be in love. She laughed again. "I would have loved to have seen that," she added wistfully. She swiftly offered him a knowing smile as she nodded. She knew exactly what it was like not to be taken seriously by her family concerning business matters. It must have been a rich kid problem.

"A private viewing would be great," Perdita gushed, thanking her lucky stars that he'd taken the bait and invited her over. "How about both?" She asked lightly with a smile. "I'd love to see some of the pieces you have stored." She wondered what his apartment would be like. Would it be vast and clinical, a modern apartment looking out to Tower Bridge? Or something cosier in the suburbs?

As Brennan leaned in, she followed suit, the noise of the bar softening as though they were in a  bubble. She flashed him a smile. "Well," she began. "I love my parents but they weren't very hands on." Again, rich kid problems. "So I had a lot of free time. My grandfather used to take me to galleries a lot when I was a child." With her eyes downcast, Perdita ran her finger around the rim of her glass.

"I learned all about colour theory and brush strokes and placement but I can't paint for shit," she admitted, meeting his eyes with a rueful grin. "But I've always loved art galleries. I love the velvety silence when you walk in and everyone's engrossed, trying to find their own meanings in the canvases. It's fascinating." What she'd said was very true. "My grandfather also told me how to bet," she laughed with a shake of her head, her glossy dark hair bouncing. "So I know how to take a chance; which artists to invest in, what makes a collectible item, which paintings to buy to guarantee a decent return, what pieces will age well. I like the idea that it could all fail, It's exhilarating." Here, she paused. "I'm still trying to figure out if you're a calculated risk," she told Brennan quietly as she smiled at him.

“I am more than happy to accommodate a pretty lady, I haven’t mastered the whole appearing in your dreams trick but I’m a quick study, I’m sure I can figure it out,” he teased playfully, wondering just what exactly he had been doing in her dreams and if he had been any good at it. He found her behavior absolutely enchanting, it felt nice being flirted with for a change, it often felt as if he had to do most of the convincing to end up with a vague promise for another date and a ridiculously long list of drinks and other adventures to pay for. His friends always did say that it was very easy to take advantage of him but he secretly enjoyed it. Money had never really been an imposition for him either because he had never had to earn it himself, it was one of the very few highlights of being a Reinhardt and one he made sure to touch upon whenever the opportunity arose.

“No, no need to apologize,” he reassured her with a half-smile, waving a hand as if to demonstrate that he really had not been bothered by such things at all, it had been a cumbersome process but in the end, it meant the return of their paintings so, in Brennan’s eyes, the entire operation had been a success. “I don’t mean to be a braggart but it really would take much more than a little ransom to drive us into destitution,” he continued. “To be quite honest, I don’t think that half of the blokes on the team even knew what decent art looked like until they stepped into the gallery, good think you were there, gave me a little peace of mind, that it did,” he added, his expression softening just slightly.

Brennan had always been serious about his art, it was the only passion that had kept him afloat at the table full of vultures he affectionately called his family. Most people would have reacted with a simple why don’t you buy another? whereas Perdita had actually empathized with him. It was a curious thought in the present situation but the small act of kindness had indeed drawn him in.

He managed a chuckle at her expression, it was a funny thing now but the look of displeasure on his grandfather's face had given him nightmares for a couple of days. The man hardly reacted to much and in general, was a pleasant man for his age and background. Brennan had done it on a whim and only because he had never expected his grandfather to show up but when he had, Brennan had simply laughed nervously and played it off as a practical joke. The man had not been pleased by the sorts of people he had invited to the family estate and had been banned from bringing any guests without prior explicit permission from the house. Surely if it ever came down to inviting Perdy over, his grandfather would have to consent. She was a respectable lady, well put together and absolutely gorgeous; Brennan was still having trouble believing that she was sitting here talking to him.

“It’s a date then,” he agreed, hoping that the phrasing had not been too forward. It was too late to take it back now anyway and if what she had initially said at the beginning of the night rang true, it was not on Ministry business that she had come, it was on personal pleasure. Brennan had since then made it his duty to make sure that she left with enough material for a few new dreams over the next couple of nights.

“Fascinating,” he said as he listened to her intently, taking a sip from his drink, his eyes trained on her beautiful face and the way her expression changed as she spoke. “Art has always been a sort of side hobby for the Reinhardt family, we started collecting art in maybe the 15th century or so, I haven’t really the exact dates down but it does come up often at work. Anyway, when the opportunity to take over the art gallery came up, I couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity. It is really fun; the auctions, the selection process, the way the seasonal exhibitions are prepared. Of course, my cousin preferred to take over the company but to be honest, I am too much of a gambling man to care about numbers and have overpaid for a piece of art one too many times, just to get my hands on it,” he continued, setting his drink down on the table again as he looked at her directly.

Leaning forward just slightly, his expression serious, he smiled just a little. “So, Perdy, it really depends on how much you actually want me, in that case, the risk doesn’t matter, the instant gratification is all that matters,” he added, “But I should be the least of your worries, tell me how is it that someone as beautiful as you isn’t always being followed around by a big lad threatening to break my neck if I so much as look at you?” he teased. At least he wanted to think she was unattached but in all honesty, he had not really tried to figure that out before.

Was it is hot in here or was it just her? Brennan wasn't stupid. She was distracted by their parallel conversation and Perdita was interested. She grinned quickly. "Noted." A quick study, he said. It was definitely warm in here and she brushed her hair behind her left ear casually, fanning herself with a hand like she was in a black and white movie. "You're in safe hands. I'm a great teacher." Sipping at her gin, she fell silent because he might spook easily.

Perdy nodded demurely. "That's kind, thank you," she added gently as he spoke of his distaste with the Aurors assigned to handle his case. She rested her elbow on the bar, her chin in her upturned palm as she watched him carefully. "If art theft is on the rise, there really should be a separate department to deal with it," she ventured. The way Brennan mentioned his money so casually made her smile, like it was no big deal that his entire family were blue blooded. "Still," she added. "Bit of a pain in the arse, though," she smiled.

It's a date, then.

Perdita looked up sharply, half in shock, half to make sure she'd heard him correctly. She genuinely couldn't remember the last time a man had - seriously - asked her out on a date. A smile lit up her pretty face as she ignored the desire to play it cool as excitement bubbled up from the bit of stomach and made goosebumps rise on her skin. "Great," she told Brennan soon after, biting on her lower lip gently to reign the grin in. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she was free any time (literally) but settled for another smile. "Can't wait." She hoped she didn't have the words confirm it now stamped on her forehead.

But as he found her childhood tale fascinating, she blushed faintly. "Oh God, is it?" She laughed, covering her eyes briefly with a lithe hand in embarrassment. She'd overshared and she wasn't used to it but everything seemed so easy in his presence. The fifteenth century he'd said, so blase that she couldn't help but chuckle. She loved it. There were two types of money; new money and old money. Tacky and classy. It was honestly refreshing to see him so unabashed by his family's wealth. Perdy was so used to people talking down their wealth as to try and fit in with "regular folk", as her grandfather said. She and Brennan were cut from the same cloth.

She listened intently, nodding intermittently so show she was paying attention. She was smiling again. Absently, she played with the diamond solitaire in her left earlobe, like she always did when she was comfortable. He gambled. He took risks. He'd made mistakes. "Passionate," she replied with a slow smile, head tilted, dimly aware she must look ridiculous as she flirted aggressively. "I'd love to see you in the auction room," she added brightly. Perdita could see him with his paddle, tall and spare, overcome with the desire to win whatever object caught his attention. Imagine if he were so possessive over her. It really was warm in this bar now.

As Brennan leaned in, she followed suit, as though they were sharing a secret. Her grin widened, slow and irreligious as she arched a finely groomed eyebrow. "I think you're a solid eight out of ten on the risk scale," she joked lightly but feeling pretty certain she meant it. She laughed again. "I'm footloose and fancy free." Yikes. She sounded like she was a 1940s housewife. "I'm definitely single," she told Brennan unequivocally. It was suddenly imperative that he knew and understood that fact.

"You know what it's like," she began as she flicked her eyes up to Brennan's. "Dating is hard," she lamented. "And London is a shark tank. You made the right choice not venturing in too often," she added, remembering how he said he didn't bother with the capital too much. "I feel like you understand, though, with the name thing." She rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. The Blooms were synonymous with fashion and design and everyone thought they knew what path she was supposed to be on. She assumed Brennan struggled with the weight of his surname, also.

"I think people have a preconception of me," she went on to explain to him, the tips of her fingers brushing the back of his hand ever so slightly with a feather light touch. "Spoiled rich girl, silly, hasn't a care in the world," she frowned gently, realising she was oversharing as she cleared her throat, slamming on the brakes. People wanted her money and her connections, they very rarely wanted her. They wanted contacts, information, to get in touch with someone higher than her. As depressing as it sounded, she was getting a lot better and figuring out real emotions from fake ones. She knew it sounded very woe is me but people just didn't understand, which made it sound even more ridiculous.

"Long story short, I haven't found Mr. Right. I've found plenty of Mr. Right Nows," she grinned with a roll of her eyes, shifting her weight on her stool as her beaded dress caught the light, making her look like a disco ball. She tilted her head curiously, her catlike eyes flicking over his face as she smiled, amused. "Do you know any potential candidates?"

“You ought to see me in the auction room,” he retorted, possibly a little more cockily than he intended but he wanted to milk this moment for what it was worth, it was not often that he had the attention of such a beautiful woman for such an extended period of time. It was certainly refreshing to feel a little in control of the conversation, not the way he usually felt when he needed to overextend himself in order to keep a woman’s eyes on him. Usually, it was at this point in the conversation where money made an appearance, it was the talk of how much his family had that often made women’s eyes sparkle with the same sort of enthusiasm that he did when he saw a piece of art.

But money, in this case, was a little different, Perdy knew about his world, he didn’t feel the need to convince her of how fascinating his work was or how much his collection meant to him. “I rarely leave the room undefeated, you know,” he added with a grin, “Money is a small price to pay for the perfect piece,” he continued as if to explain his reasoning, though he did not have to. Taking another sip from his drink he settled it down on the counter with a soft clink.

“Only an eight, huh? I’ll have to do better, figured I was about a twelve by now,” he teased after she spoke, but he had to admit that he felt rather proud of how things were going between the two of them so far. It might have been his own desire to believe it to be true but Brennan wanted to think that he could trust what she said, even if everything ought to be taken with a grain of salt. Surely Perdita had plenty of options, leading someone on for the sake of playing a game did not really seem like the sort of thing that she did.

Then again, it was difficult to truly say, he barely knew the pretty thing. Her wording made him chuckle a little, it certainly was not the sort of thing that he heard on a daily basis but she was certainly an unpredictable one. But it did not matter how she said it or in how many words, I’m definitely single, she admitted and that in itself was good enough. That was exactly what he had wanted to hear.

“I do understand,” he admitted, his expression becoming a little more serious as he considered how similarly they felt about relationships. Then again, his entire understanding of human relationships had been twisted by the ever-present desire to find approval in the eyes of others. It had been something that had plagued his own childhood, disinherited from the position of heir a lofty blow that Brennan was still coming to terms with. No matter how much he wished it to be untrue, it was exceedingly simple to take advantage of him and girls often did, exchanging vague words and promises in exchange for expensive gifts and invitations to every social happening in town.

As he became older, the idea of a long relationship disenchanted him, exchanging one thing for another a much easier transaction that putting forth the effort to convince someone else that he was just as worthy as his cousin or if not, much more. “But I suppose bachelorhood builds character,” he reasoned. At least in his life, the less focus he placed on finding a relationship the more meaningful his life had become. Then again, his friends often said that if he stopped looking, the right person would show up at his doorstep.

“No matter how hard you try to convince people that you aren’t what they think, once their mind is set well trying to change that is tough business, we’ve privilege but we ought to make the best of it, I s’pose,” he continued, though he wasn’t sure if he was making a whole lot of sense. There was much more to the story of course but he didn’t feel it appropriate to start talking about the woes of his life in such pleasant company. He was thankful when the conversation took another amusing turn. She kept him on his toes this one.

He smiled, shrugging as he slid his glass in the direction of the bartender, a silent request for a refill. “I’ve got some great cousins that’ll surely be interested, maybe my assistant at the gallery? He knows how to treat a gorgeous piece of art when he sees one,” he joked. “I don’t know if at eight I’m in a position to be so bold, but I’d love to take you out,” he said, as smoothly as he could. He had never particularly been good at this sort of thing but she was making him feel a little bold tonight. “Could I interest you in another drink?”

Perdita smiled politely but she was really thinking yes please. In a way, she wanted to call Brennan's bluff a little bit but she refrained. She loved an auction. The atmosphere was electric, tense and sparkling and she liked when she managed to bag what other people so badly wanted. It was easy to get hooked and she wondered if that was what had happened to him. "Which ones are coming up?" She asked casually because she might just happen to "stop by" and see him in action.

She laughed, genuine and tinkling as she rolled her eyes playfully, whilst being very much keen. "What kind of pieces do you bid on? Sorry, win," she corrected herself with an easy smile. "Just paintings? Or sculptures, Greek vases, properties?" Perdita asked lightly. It was probably a warning sign that Brennan could lose his head in the heat of the moment but for her, this was definitely a green light. In a way, she hoped that he might collect ancient antiquities like people collect baseball cards. It had been a long time since she'd been allowed to geek out over the Roman empire.

Absently, her slim fingers drew intricate patterns on the bar in the condensation from her glass, offering him another smile that soon turned sympathetic. Ridiculous, really, two young people from money, complaining. "The night is young," the brunette witch offered. "You can still turn yourself from an eight to a twelve. You're progressing rather nicely thus far."

Ah. A bachelor. "You don't get lonely?" Came the soft response, her bright blue eyes catching his darker ones as though she was trying to read his mind. Once upon a time, Perdita didn't think she could be tied down. She was young and wild, dashing off to the Continent the moment she'd caused any heat in London. She'd skipped through life while other people picked up the pieces. Fancy dinners, club openings, they'd all merged into one. It was exciting at first, she'd admit, but there was something comforting about the mundane.

She'd been sitting in a park in Notting Hill earlier that week, not doing much, a newspaper at her side when she saw an elderly couple tottering past. They were just feeding the ducks - that was it, nothing special but Perdita felt a strong pull towards their relationship. It was boring but they looked so happy. Perdita couldn't remember the last time anyone looked pleased to see her.

"A quarter life crisis is on the horizon," she joked with another smile. It was easy to poke fun of the phenomena, considering she was in the throes of it currently. "We're doing fine," Perdy told Brennan softly, grouping them together as not to single either one of them out. It caught her off-guard, feeling like they had so much in common. She was anxious now, just in case she ruined it or maybe she was overthinking it or maybe he wasn't on the same wavelength or maybe --

He was playing along and the anxiety dissipated. "Your assistant," Perdita focused on as she finished the rest of her drink. "Is he tall, dark and handsome? I have a type," she explained before she grinned, the gin taking the edge off. She had been nervous coming here tonight. She hadn't been on a proper date for a very long time. "I'd love one, thank you," she agreed to another drink, her spirits buoyed by Brennan and his lovely self. Whether or not he'd see his plan through was of no real importance.

She watched the barman before an idea popped into her head. "But listen," she said softly before the man behind the bar mixed their drinks. "You mentioned a private viewing of the gallery and it's already closed now," she went on. They'd be alone. She'd see Brennan in his element and she was very much into that. This bar was too loud and too crowded. She wanted him, without distractions. "Can we go?" Perdita asked, her cat-like eyes wide and sparkling in the dim light as she smiled at him, leaning towards him and out of her seat a little, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Pretty please."

“You’ll have to consult my assistant for those, but I shall certainly relay that you are interested and have him owl you my upcoming appearances,” he said as smoothly as he could manage, wondering momentarily if she had indeed taken enough interest that she would surprise him at any one of those events or if she was merely attempting to make polite conversation. Naturally, he hoped for the former, knowing that if she were to see him in action, falling for him would be an absolute no brainer. ”Anything that catches my fancy, really,” he confessed, shrugging a little as he considered whether or not he held a preference for any type of art in particular.

“Grandfather naturally prefers paintings but there is so much more that can be expressed beyond a canvas, so I’d be foolish to limit myself for the sake of following tradition,” he explained. Brennan saw value in every piece in an auction hall, it was at these sorts of events where his assistant or another fellow that was equally if not significantly more understanding of the fine arts came in handy. After all, the family did not earn money from earning every single piece of art but rather by finding the rare jewels underneath all the extra rubbish.

Although the topic of art was always something Brennan felt most comfortable talking about, what she thought of him was a significantly more interesting topic of conversation and the thought that she had rated him so highly already, even if in jest, was enough to make him eager to win her over. After all, the young art collector was nobody if not a people pleaser; the beauty before him proving to be someone he was particularly wanted to please in as many ways possible. “Being a bachelor has its perquisites, so I wouldn’t exactly call it lonely, for example, had I been otherwise engaged I would not have had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of such a beautiful woman nor might I have had the chance to have drinks with her,” he continued with a smile, although he knew exactly what she had meant by what she had said.

Brennan did get lonely, particularly when he was busy and had too much free time on his hands but nobody to spend it with. Although he could and had paid for the company of one pretty face or another on plenty an occasion, no one quite filled the void that had been left exposed since the last love of his life. Contrary to popular belief, there were actually several things that money simply could not buy, no matter how hard he attempted to make it seem otherwise. However, such dispirited conversations were better left to other times, the last thing he wanted was to scare Perdy off with a sudden bout of melancholy. As she said, they were doing fine and there was nothing more to say about it. 

“He went to Giroux, has a fabulous sense of artistry and time, and well, of course, I respect his opinion greatly, surely this says plenty about him,” he continued with a smirk though he certainly had no intention of introducing the two in case his own opportunity to woe her was lost. The last thing he needed was more competition to the one he was certain he already had even if she claimed that she was single that did not mean that men were not pursuing her. “Are you certain you’d feel comfortable being alone with me? Unfortunately, James has gone home so my assistant will not be available to make your acquaintance,” he teased but did not hesitate to slide money across the counter to pay for their drinks as he stood, grabbing his blazer, and reaching out for her hand, “Shall we walk or apparate?” he asked gently, either way, a little hesitant to let go of her hand as he held it in his own.

"Great," came the bright response. "Owl me." Perdita beamed, not usually so forward but he did say he'd let her know. Not to tar Brenna with the same brush, but a lot of men seemed to want to play hard to get. It was fine, obviously, but after a while things got a bit...samey. She nodded in understanding. "You'll have to show me the ropes sometime," she smiled quickly.

Brennan spoke about employee benefits and she found herself laughing over the hum and chatter of the bar. "I've never heard it called that before," she admitted, her big blue eyes watching him intently as he smiled. Her stomach did that weird loop-de-loop thing, like a rollercoaster. He was dangerous. Tall, dark and handsome was bad enough but add smartly dressed, rich and confident to the mix and she was in real trouble.

"Ah," she grinned as she uncrossed her legs with a demure nod of her head. "In that case, I'm very pleased you were free. Hopefully you remain so," Perdita added lightly. She was on a similar vein to Brennan but every now and again, she liked a good snuggle. His clothes fit him well but she couldn't quite determine what sort of arms he had - hopefully ones big enough to give her a damned good squish.

His assistant sounded pretty cute, too. With interest, she listened to how Brennan listed off the other man's qualities and she couldn't help but smile as he left out his appearance. "He sounds almost too good to be true," she added with a shrug before she grinned again. Would she be comfortable with him alone? "Very," she was quick to placate him. "But that's a terrible shame," she joked. His name was James, he'd said. "Another time, perhaps." It was a credit to Brennan to know that he let his staff not work evenings. Evenings that he had free, she assumed.

He paid and they both stood up, the warmth of his skin making her look down at their hands. Instinctively, she threaded her fingers through his much larger ones, feeling like she was sixteen again. Without answering, she led Brennan through the bar that was much more full of people since they'd entered. "Let's walk," she told him over her shoulder as they squeezed through, the cool night air a vast difference from the humid and sticky air they'd been sitting on. The gin had gone to her head and plus, the more time she spent with him, the better.

"I like London better when it's dark," she admitted to Brennan as her long legs slowed down to a meander, their joined hands swinging between them gently. The vibe was different, it was a separate experience. Gone were the commuters and tourists and screaming children. The night belonged to Londoners, through and through.

There was enough polite space between them but Perdita side-stepped, her shoulder gently bumping into his in a well practiced, accidentally-on-purpose move. The path to Brennan's gallery was a familiar one as the streets became wider and the streetlights were a slightly more flattering shade of orange. "So," Perdita began as she expertly stepped over a crack in the pavement. "Can I ask you something?" She turned to Brennan to watch his face. "Why did you agree to come out with me tonight?"

The tall woman hoped it was because he was intrigued, curious, dare she say mesmerised by her? Or he was bored. They turned down a Regency tree lined street before she smiled. "Just so I can manage my expectations," she explained with a smile that made her teeth glint in the dim light. The gallery was close, vast and expensive as she lingered by the door. Like a kid in a sweet shop, Perdy was visibly buzzing with excitement. She stood on her tiptoes as she tried to peer through the glass, squeezing Brennan's fingers in response at the possibility of having the entire gallery to themselves.

"Show me your favourite piece," the brunette encouraged him as she waited patiently. "And I'll show you mine." With that, she offered him a dimpled grin.

He nodded in curt agreement, the idea of finding excuses to owl her every once in awhile exciting in itself, Brennan had always been particularly fond of writing letters especially if they were to be delivered to women as charming as the one before him. He made a mental note to pester James first thing in the morning about scheduling the upcoming month’s events so that he would have a much more concrete plan to woo Perdita, if not with his looks then with his effortless willingness to spend as much money as possible.

“James certainly is a dream come true,” he noted in agreement, smirking to himself as he considered how such praise would make the man laugh in amusement before James had taken on the task of becoming Brennan’s assistant, the two had been close art friends, spending as much time as possible as they could engaging in social events related to their passion. What James lacked in money he made up in an exquisite talent to determine the worth of almost any piece of art he had encountered, a fine investment if Brennan had ever made any. “But maybe it’s best I keep him away, at least until I’ve had a fair chance to make a good enough impression to keep your eyes on me,” he joked, hoping that Perdita would not lose interest as soon as she met his assistant. It would not be the first time that one of his dates had ended up inquiring about James’ relationship status in a roundabout way.

He heartily agreed with her suggestion that they walk, always a fan of a nice stroll through the city whenever he had the time to do so. Not only did such things helped him think, feel inspired by his surroundings, but in Perdita’s company, it was a proper opportunity to spend more time together. Not that Brennan did not appreciate the bar’s atmosphere, but he also did not want to have a conversation with the woman overshadowed by the loud music and drunken people in the background. To make matters even better, she had not pulled her hand away as soon as they had walked out of the bar but was rather holding on to his very casually as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He would have gone as far as to say that his heart fluttered just slightly only if he did not feel that such expression threatened whatever manhood he believed himself to possess. “I have to agree, it’s certainly more charming now than it normally is during the day,” he added, wishing that he spent more time outside at night rather than comfortable and alone in the confines of his own home.

Brennan wondered what the occasional onlooker thought of the two of them. Did they look like, dare he say, a couple? Was the way they walked hand in hand convincing or was he once again allowing his imaginative head to consider what things could be like a few months from now if he played his cards right? He could only hope that his actions would be seen as endearing rather than desperate. Turning towards her as he caught the drift of her question, he paused to consider his actions momentarily. “Did you assume I would have told you no?” he answered with a question of his own. Meeting her at the bar had been the polite thing to do, holding her hand, thinking her beautiful, and taking her to his gallery’s private collection was completely different. “I think I’d like to keep you guessing all night,” he smirked a little playfully, “After all the night is still young,” he continued.

Just as he considered teasing her once again, the gallery came into view, nestled between two particularly old buildings, it posed as a space for offices much too boring to be any use or interest to the muggle eyes. “I keep all my favorite ones to myself, you’ll see,” As he got close enough, he was greeted by one of the many guards, who stepped out of the shadows of the entrance to meet his employer with a curt nod. “No trouble, I expect?” Brennan asked, to which the man simply shook his head before opening the door to the two of them.

Upon entering the building, the old, red brick gave way to an extremely modern interior, one that became even more visible upon the clapping of Brennan’s hands, the first time after they had left the pub that he had dared pull his hand away from hers, which brought to life the lights. Removing his coat and leaving it on the desk by the door, he visibly relaxed. “You can leave your coat over here if you’d like,” he offered, before moving closer to the right where he tapped his wand against the wall, it opening up to reveal a staircase that descended into a well-lit basement. “Watch your step, love, these rickety old stairs can be a tad tricky,” he continued, using that as an excuse to reach out for her hand once again.

The descent brought them into a room filled to the brim with artwork, its organization making little sense as it cluttered the walls. “I’ve had this Bykov for quite some time,” he pointed to a piece of art, in it the portrait of a stern-looking woman painted delicately on a particularly large canvas, “however this, this Ó Duinn over here, cost me a small fortune,” he continued pointing to the canvas right next to the woman, this time a landscape decorated with small, yellow flowers and a house visible in the distance, the wind playing along the flowers. “Nobody makes this particular shade of yellow quite as she does, it’s absolutely marvelous, and then there’s this Da Silva,” he continued, the excitement obvious in his face as his fingers traveled along the canvas, careful not to touch it, “I promised myself I’d never take any of this early modern art seriously but the detail on these horses, and these bodies,” he continued, sighing happily as he did, a battle scene, one that he had become rather fond of. Turning to her, he cleared his throat, realizing that he had probably gone off on a tangent. “I apologize, I do not often bring guests down here, I find the need to overexplain everything,” he smiled. "Find anything that interests you?"

A dream come true Brennan had said so casually that it made her snort with laughter in a manner that would make her mother clutch her pearls. "Don't tell me you're threatened?" Perdita asked, her cat-like eyes dancing in amusement in the low light of the bar. "You have nothing to worry about," she assured him quietly, tapping the back of his hand briefly. She cracked a grin. "You're doing well so far," she assured him. "My eyes aren't anywhere else."

The cool night air was refreshing. Perdy liked a bar as much as the next girl but a busy one wasn't perfect for a first date - if this was even a date. It was technically a business meeting, a follow up from that robbery case but she was wonderfully talented at blurring the lines. "See?" She asked Brennan quickly with an easy smile, playfully bumping his shoulder as they held hands. "I told you you should come into the city more often," she added, sounding smug. "Even if it's just to see me." She shrugged. "If not, then definitely for the night life."

They were ambling through London now as she played some things over in her head. The city had been her home for almost twenty years now and she thought she knew it like the back of her hand. Brennan might not have the luxury. She could play tour guide for him, if he was interested. She could get a short skirt and a cute little cap --

Again, she laughed, the sound travelling in the still night air. "No one ever tells me no," she admitted, her large eyes sliding across to look at his profile as she chewed on her lower lip. "Though I'll level with you, I was a little anxious that you might." And she liked that. Brennan would be able to sympathise with her, he was probably surrounded by "Yes Men" - those who agreed to do anything because they were weak and to keep in favour. People liked them for their money. The possibility that he might keep her on her toes was fresh and exciting.

"Practically a baby," she said smoothly with a smile, a long-forgotten shiver of excitement thrilling down her spine. This was fun. Perdy liked anything she classed as "special". Whether it be a private show at a gallery, a shopping event where only a few patrons were present, it made her feel rather special. Brennan was doing a good job of that.

The tall brunette offered a quick smile to the guard as they slipped inside and the hairs on the backs of her arms rose as the still air of the gallery enveloped her. Perdita shed her coat and folded it neatly, placing it beside his on the desk as her long legs drew closer. As daft as it sounded, it looked very different now that it wasn't crawling with Aurors.

"Oh thank you," she added politely as she followed him down, wrapping her fingers around his for support - he really did have an art dungeon. Glorious.

"Oh wow," she exhaled on a breath as she wandered after Brennan, her eyes as wide as dinner plates as her attention was pulled a hundred different ways. It was so quiet down here, she noticed. She listened as he spoke, nodding along at the appropriate parts and stopping to inspect each piece as he talked. "That's gorgeous," she answered Brennan in a whisper, feeling it inappropriate to raise her voice in such a sacred space; this was her new church.
She stepped closer, her nose almost against the canvas as she blinked at it. He was right, she liked the shade of yellow. It was golden, the special kind in the early morning or at sunset. The Da Silva made her tilt her head as she tried to make sense of the painting's orientation - was it hung the right way around? "Oh I love a good battle scene," she admitted with a girlish grin, his excitement palpable and infectious. She did love the ostentatious grandeur of Renaissance art in general because who really needed a huge painting of a battle hanging in their dining room? Perdita did, obviously.

She stepped back and attempted to walk in the other direction but forgot their fingers were still interlinked and it resulted in her being pulled back to him like a twanged elastic band. She laughed breathlessly. "Not at all!" She insisted with wide eyes. "Don't ever say sorry. I'm enthralled, honestly," she concluded with a dimpled grin.

Did she find anything that interested her? Perdy chewed on her lower lip as she looked around the space. She liked the small one hanging on the wall that looked like it could be Cornwall. It was blue and gentle and the brush strokes were soft. The colours were muted, it looked as though the artist had spilled the water he used to clean his brushes over the canvas, diluted and delicate. It felt like the tiny Cornish harbour it was supposed to be. She could practically hear the seagulls wheeling overhead and the smell of sun cream. "I like that one," she informed him, pointing.

"And I like that one," she announced, gesturing to the large darkly coloured portrait hanging high on the wall. It was surrounded by a gilded frame and the subject was brooding and intense. "Victorian?" Perdita asked quietly. It depicted a tall man sat on a chair, the rich red of his smoking jacket still vibrant after all these years. Handsome, with an impressive moustache. He looked playful, there was a glint in his eye that hinted at a mischievous nature beneath the stiffness of his positioning. She liked him, the man in the painting.  She drew closer. "He has your eyes," she told Brennan as she tilted her head up to look at him with a slow smile. "Your great grandfather is a babe," she joked with a grin.

Perdita certainly did not need to state it twice, Brennan thought the idea of seeing her was more than enough motivation needed to travel into the city even if James possibly threatened the miraculous upper hand he had somehow managed to gain. “Let’s keep your eyes on me then,” he said a little more confidently, liking the direction in which this was headed much more than he originally expected to. He had met girls like Perdita before, that somehow drew people in with their energy and the bounce in their step, but when talked to they turned into stiff, money grubbing women whose sole purpose in life was to devoid a man of his riches. Perdita, on the other hand, interested him immediately and speaking to her only made her magnetism grow.

Brennan turned to her as she spoke, arching an eyebrow in surprise at her confession. The wizard was rarely a yes man but he did have a weakness for pretty people and an even bigger weakness for a pretty girl in a dress. But it was more than that, something that he hoped would go a little longer than just a random night of fun. Even if it didn’t, he certainly intended to enjoy himself to the best of his ability. “Next time I’ll tell you no, just for the experience,” he said with a wink, though he doubted he’d have the guts to follow through on his word, even if she did ask him again.

Her willingness and reaction to entering the basement where he kept his most precious pieces encouraged him, the idea that anyone was as interested in art as he had been since his childhood was not something he could easily ignore, especially when that was a quality he barely found in anyone his age anymore. The rich debutantes loved to purchase expensive things to decorate their house but rarely possessed the knowledge to appreciate the importance of their value. He had seen people walk in and out of the gallery choosing pieces of art because it seemed to match the towels in the kitchen or because it looked expensive.

Brennan could not help the smile that appeared on his lips as he watched her walk around as he offered an explanation, pleasantly surprised by not only the fact that she was actually listening to his lengthy presentation but that she seemed to appreciate it. He would have given her more information if he had not forced himself to stop talking out of fear of overwhelming her with his talkative nature. There was simply something so captivating about discussing art that made it difficult for him to pull away from the subject. It only made sense for him to become an art curator, giving special tours only to the most important of guests, many of who had an equal amount of knowledge as he did or were looking for more insight on pieces of great value and investment.

He turned to her, inspecting the painting that she was looking at closer before he chuckled. “You’ve got fantastic tastes, Perdy,” he stated, “Harry Lewis,” he explained briefly, “It’s a series, the other two are upstairs but I find this one to be the most precious one in the collection, or maybe I am simply biased, it reminds me of my childhood,” he explained briefly, trying to keep his explanation to a minimum this time around. Turning to the other one, he walked closer to the painting, feeling a little intimidated by the strong expression on the man’s eyes but he supposed he could see the resemblance. “All the Reinhardt men eventually get their own portrait,” he grinned, “Maybe one day I’ll look just in handsome in my own,” he added, his hands behind his back as he turned to her.

“I unfortunately cannot part with my great grandfather’s portrait no matter how much I’d love to however, do take the Lewis portrait, my gift to you,” he said casually. It would hurt for him to part with it but it would give him space for something else. And it gave him much comfort knowing that it would be in the hands of someone that appreciated it and would take good care of it. “Shall we move on to the sculptures and older stuff?” he suggested, pointing in the direction of a small, dark corridor that was protected by a glass door.

“Next time ill bring you over to the old apartment, ive a few pieces there that might interest you as well,” he suggested, hoping that he had not been too forward.

Perdita snorted in response, still smiling as he turned around and took the time just to appraise his profile. She'd never really been told no, which was probably she'd turned out the way she had. Next time he'd said and a zing of excitement thrilled down the length of her spine. She did genuinely like Brennan - he was on her wavelength. She didn't mention it or correct him, for fear he might change his mind. "I'll hold you to that," she remarked lightly as she brushed past him to look at some more paintings, perhaps a little too close.

"Thanks," she laughed as he asserted she had good tastes because she thought she did. A great taste in wine, clothes, music, maybe not to so much men but she supposed it didn't matter. She liked the colour of the sea, the bright turquoise that was synonymous with the south of England. It looked like summer.

"Harry Lewis," she echoed Brennan with a nod as she committed the name to memory. "You haven't hung it with the other two?" Perdita asked, head tilted and it stayed there as he mentioned his childhood. "You grew up around there?" She asked him, interested as she watched him before flicking her eyes back to the painting. As much as she liked him, she didn't know much about him. There also wasn't very much information about him available and she could understand his need for privacy.

She pulled herself away from the Cornish coast in time to hear about the portrait. "No way," she gasped, eyes wide. "I'm so jealous," she admitted with a smile, wondering if Brennan would choose the same pose as his great-grandfather. She could actually imagine him at a piano but had no idea whether or not he played. "I'd love a portrait," she added with a wistful sigh, her slender shoulders slouching. "But in a ball gown and pearls," she joked. "I'd want to do it properly."

Swiftly, her jaw dropped.

"Oh no," Perdita replied almost instantly, eyes wide as her hands came up  as though to stop Brennan from saying anything else. There was no way she could take that painting home with her. For the first time in years, she was speechless. Her mouth was ajar and she must have looked like a confused goldfish. Realising she was gawping, she closed her mouth and boggled at him.

"Brennan, I can't," she protested gently but knowing damn well she wanted it. "But the set," she reminded him, looking faintly alarmed at the prospect of him splitting it up. "Can I pay you for it?" Perdita asked, hoping he wouldn't be offended but smiled gently. "Thank you," she added, reaching out to squeeze his upper arm affectionately. "A gifted painting on a first date. I don't know how you're going to top that on the second date. Yes," she said quickly as he mentioned they move on.

Her skin was tingly, a mix between pins and needles and excitement. Brennan had insisted she take it in such a casual way that it caught her off guard. Did he gift priceless artwork to every girl he showed his secret stash to?

Like an eager schoolgirl on a trip to the museum, she was at his shoulder, trying to see over it as they came to a dimly lit corridor. She stood on her tiptoes, her arms crossed against her chest before she grinned. "I'd love to," she said, a little too quickly, as she accepted his offer of seeing the apartment. "You've got my address. Owl me any time." Literally she mentally added.

"I don't know much about sculpture," she admitted to Brennan. "But I like the ones I've seen in the Louvre whenever I've been. I like the one depicting Pysche. It's gorgeous." She was keen to see if he was a Michelangelo man or more of a Henry Moore. "I can't really fit a David into the townhouse," she joked, still disappointed because she'd previously tried. "Heaven forbid his todger falls off," she mused with a frown.