no rules in breakable heaven. [tag; brennan]

“I have not,” he shook his head in disagreement at her question which he assumed boiled down to why he had not chosen to hang the painting up in the gallery and instead enjoyed staring at it in private on his own time, “It’s important to me,” he explained vaguely though he felt than even those simple words could convey how much he valued the paintings he spent every day with and how some of those paintings were of particular emotional value. “I grew up in Derbyshire, Bakewell to be exact,” he responded, watching the painting as he continued to speak. “It’s a lovely little town even if it isn’t quite as exciting as living in London, of course,” he turned to smile at her. “And what about you?”

He found her reaction to his great-grandfather’s portrait rather cute and considered how very nice she would look in a portrait of her though. Even if she wanted one in a ball gown and pearls, typical of a young woman of her position, Brennan considered how she might be much better suited for one that showed off those gorgeous long legs of hers, possibly in the same glittery dress that she was wearing now. He committed the mental note to memory; it would be the perfect gift he decided, to woe her with the option of having a portrait done to capture the unbridled energy and beauty that surrounded her like her very own aura. “At least you have options,” he grinned, “I’d have to wear a suit and there is very little creative expression in that,” he concluded.

“Pay me for what?” he arched an eyebrow down at her, hoping the expression on his face demonstrated how incredulous he found the idea of her paying him for any of it, even the other two paintings upstairs. Naturally, his grandfather would not be pleased if he found out, and would probably yell at him for so carelessly giving away the very thing that his family considered to be a national treasure. But Brennan had always enjoyed impressing his dates, giving them this sense that nothing was outside of the Reinhardt family’s reach. It was probably the same reason that most of the girls he was with used him for his money and connections until there was nothing else for him to give. But Brennan didn’t want to believe that Perdita was anything like those girls, especially when it was so obvious that she had her own money, and plenty of it, to spend on herself.

But Brennan would keep it from his grandfather, for now, the old man probably didn’t even know about half of the paintings the family owned or he would have run the gallery himself. “Of course not, you may not pay me,” he teased her, “But if you’d like to express gratitude, I do take payment in the form of second and third dates,” he expressed with a grin. At this point in the night, such a request didn’t feel too forward at all. He had naturally come to expect that the two of them would meet again at an unspecified place and time for the sake of following up on whatever would become of this. “Anyway I need the space to put something else up,” he added.

“Well maybe I can interest you in dinner at my place as well, a nice little tour and a very nice bottle of wine, what do you say?” he continued, eager to make actual plans for their next meeting as he led her through the hidden section of the gallery that stored all of the sculptures and some of the mixed media art. “I am fond of the ones depicting the human form, particularly of a woman’s,” he added, chuckling at her comment about keeping a sculpture of David in her home. “Well I suppose you could always glue it back on, I tried to do that when I ruined one of my father’s favorite sculptures, then again, who keeps sculptures in a home of raucous children and doesn’t expect the worst?” he smiled at the memory before turning to her. “See anything you like?”

"Of course," Perdita replied gently and with a nod. She chanced a peek at his profile when he wasn't looking at her and rested her front teeth on her full lower lip in thought. "Oh, I know Bakewell," she replied quickly with a smile. She didn't know it well but she and her family often had day trips to the small village because it wasn't far from her own. "I like the tart," she mused, hands clasped in front of her. She grinned. "Cheshire," she answered, despite it not behind home for many years. "My grandparents still live there. London wasn't for them." She moved a lot as a child. Born in Lancashire and then crossed counties before settling four hundred miles south.

Turning her head to catch Brennan's gaze, she grinned. "A suit is timeless," she explained, nodding to the portrait, still transfixed by it.  "And you fill one out very nicely." The flirty remark slipped out before she could stop it and she cleared her throat. "I'll wear a suit if you do," she joked with an easy smile, looking over at him before allowing her eyes to roam the rows of pictures in the soft light.

Duly chastised, Perdita turned pink in an uncharacteristic blush. Idiot, she scolded herself, realising too late that the prospect of money didn't work on someone who already had tons of it. She tucked her hair behind both of her ears before she laughed. "Sorry," she added quietly. "That tends to work for me usually but I think I can do that," she replied playfully, a smile curving the line of her plump lips. She hadn't been excited for the prospect of another date for a long time. She didn't really date because the men she was used to had a bad case of it's not you, it's me.

"I think that's fair," Perdy told Brennan gently as she tried in vain to force the bubble of excited energy back to where it came from. He wanted to hang something else? "My portrait, naturally," she grinned as she followed him into the next room. Out of his eyeline, she placed her cool palms on her flaming cheeks and stopped to fan herself quickly.

"I'd say yes," the tall brunette answered him quickly with an eager nod because that sounded delightful. "I can show you the townhouse," she offered. There wasn't so much in the form of art but she did have an impressive cellar and very judgemental dog. "Next week?" Perdita ventured in an effort to lock down the details as she crossed  her fingers behind her back in hope and held her breath for his response.

Unable to help herself, she snorted, the sound echoing through the room. "I'll bet," she replied salaciously but he had a point - ancient Greek sculptures always did but the female form in the  most flattering light. Absently, Perdita placed her hands on her hips and frowned in the darkness. What she wouldn't give for a decent Greco-Roman arse.

She laughed again, feeling light and free. "They had it coming," she agreed with Brennan in earnest. Perdita found the idea of a young Brennan, desperately trying to stick a statue's meat and two veg back on, hilariously funny. "I'm sorry," she offered in a poor attempt to stifle her giggles. "I bet that was traumatising. For you and the statue," she sniggered, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder affectionately to let him know she didn't really mean it. Perdita, however, had been a rather careful child. Running wild and having fun wasn't...really a Bloom family tradition and there was a long forgotten pang of loss somewhere in her chest.

When asked if she liked anything, Perdita swiftly stepped around Brennan for a closer look. "What are they made from?" She asked. "Marble?" She inquired, as though it made a difference. "These are lovely," she whispered, feeling as though raising her voice in such a revered space was somehow sacreligious.

"She's gorgeous,," she replied eventually, pointing to one. It looked to depict some kind of dancer. Her face was turned to the side but a playful smile was on her mouth, her hair piled up on top of her head and the pleats and folds in her dress hugged her figure. She held a floral garland in one hand and she looked cheeky, mischievous, almost. Perdita stepped closer and bent at the waist to see the folds in which looked translucent, like the lightest of chiffon fabric that money can buy and the desire to reach out and touch it to check was building.

"I like her," she told Brennan as she tilted her head. "Looks like she's snuck out of a party," she grinned. It was different. Her pose didn't seem so stiff and the others, not as modest, not so practiced, more natural. "And I like you," Perdy said with a smile over her shoulder.

Brennan knew Cheshire in the sense that he knew almost every town on the English map, though his knowledge of the place was limited. He had visited the Grosvenor family estate their several times and had even wandered to some of the artisanal shops downtown when he accompanied Wolfgang on his frequent visits to see her; he had mostly gone along to annoy his cousin though it was rarely working lately. Genevieve had a much better talent at getting a rise out of him than Brennan did, which was unfortunate and meant he had to entertain himself elsewhere. But he would not have been opposed to her offering to show him around, especially if it meant the two could spend more time together, so he mentioned little of his knowledge, “Don’t know much about Cheshire, never got much further than an acquaintances estate,” he noted with a shrug as if to regret his limited knowledge of what he assumed to be her childhood town.

“I’d only abstain from wearing a dress because I figure I wouldn’t look as good in it as you do now,” he teased in return, chuckling at her sense of humor. That wasn’t common, was it? For a girl to be equal parts beautiful and witty. Now he wondered if Perdita was too good to be true. Probably. But for now, he’d enjoy the fact that for whatever reason, she had decided to return to his gallery and not leave with anyone else. He figured she must have left her glasses at home. “And well, my family is stiff about those sorts of things, boring, aren’t we?” he suggested with a wink. They were conservative in the overbearing sense, but he did get away with a lot as the son of the disinherited heir. The mistakes, the miscommunications, the disappointment, it was all expected of him. Instead of turning those little details into a sob story, he shrugged it off. He enjoyed the money and the influence without worrying about the responsibility that came with such a title. He’d leave all the heavy lifting to Wolfgang, Brennan was much more content with running the gallery and enjoying his twenties.

“Oh, how did you know?” he raised his eyebrows in fabricated surprise as if she had guessed correctly on what he intended to hang up next, though now that he considered it, he realized that he wouldn’t terribly mind having a portrait of Perdita in the gallery, though maybe not the type she was thinking. He’d save his dirty jokes for later; he was still desperately trying to impress her. “Next week sounds lovely, you name the date, and I’ll have my schedule cleared,” he promised, though he understood that his statement probably reeked of desperation. But Brennan figured that she hadn’t escaped this far and that had to account for something.

He realized that he wasn’t offended by her laughter, and so it didn’t really make a difference, whether it was aimed in her direction or not. “The statue, yes,” he joked in return. He had gotten a proper scolding from his father, probably one of the very few he had gotten from him in his entire life, but it did teach him a valuable lesson. Not that it made him any less prone to clumsiness.

“It’s quartz,” he noted, though it sounded much more like a realization rather than a statement. Brennan had never been keen on sculptures and, as such, had little information on them apart from the usual greats. Nevertheless, he did know his materials.
“Oh good, I thought here I’d be competing with a statue next,” he teased, moving in closer to take a better look. “You can take her home as well,” he offered, realizing that his generosity would probably get him in more trouble than not, mostly since he wasn’t entirely sure of the statue’s value. Even if it was quartz, it had to be rather expensive to have found itself in that storage area.
 
“But it is rather delicate, don’t have anyone running around your townhouse in search of some mischief, do you?”

The way he said estate so casually made her laugh - but not unkindly. She offered Brennan a smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle, like it always did when something tickled her out of the blue. "That's a shame," she told him politely. "As much as I love London, there's always a very small part of me that longs for my wellies," she joked, sort of. "You should come up some time," Perdita nodded, mentally calculating when her parents wouldn't be home because her mother would be so excited, she'd pop a blood vessel.

Perdy grinned, her teeth white in the dim lighting. Swiftly, she let out a whistle, her bright eyes wide in mock surprise. "I'm not so sure," she disagreed with Brennan gently as she turned to look at him, as though she was mentally dressing him. "Go on, give me a twirl," she laughed. "A little off-the-shoulder number, very classy," she smiled, dipping her head in a nod at his compliment. "That's very kind, thank you." Her tone was light but internally, she was doing somersaults.

"Traditional, maybe," she corrected him gently with a smile that wrinkled her nose. Quickly, she gave a wistful sigh. "I don't know," she shrugged. "It must be nice to have a tradition to fall into," she commented as she looked up at the portrait of the strapping man hanging high above. "The only traditions we have are getting drunk on Christmas night and having an argument about who's winning in Scrabble," she trailed off with a grimace. To show she was (mostly) joking, she smiled at him again. She liked this air of quietness that only a gallery awarded her - she'd have to visit more often. "For the record, it's usually me."

"Oh, just a hunch," she said in jest with another smirk. They changed tack and she turned to look at him properly. "How about Friday?" Perdita asked Brennan quickly as he agreed to meet up again. She had no plans, she never had any plans, she'd meet him wherever and whenever. When he said he'd be clearing his day for her, her eyes widened a fraction in mild surprise. "You would?" She questioned, sounding silly before a slow smile curved the line of her lips. "That'd be great, thank you," she replied, still a bit dazed.

On they walked and her pace was slow, more of a dawdle, her hands clasped in front of her as she meandered. Quartz? "Lovely," Perdita answered as she admired the figure, flicking her eyes over to Brennan with a grin.

"No competition to be had, I assure you," she placated him, only to shake her head politely when it was offered to her. "I've no room for her," Perdy answered, sounding regretful. "The painting is more than enough, Brennan. You'll be broke in minutes if you keep that up," she teased in good faith. Realising she might have come across as rude, she cleared her throat. "Thank you, though," she told Brennan swiftly, genuinely flattered and she did love the statue. Her eyes lingered on the woman for a second too long as she chewed on her lower lip, feeling like she was fighting an internal battle.

"No." The reply was almost instantaneous as she looked over at him sharply, shaking her head. There wasn't anyone at home and it became imperative that Brennan knew she was absolutely and categorically single. It sounded desperate so she offered him a small smile which she hoped made him think she wasn't. "No one at home," she tried again, gentler this time as she watched him. "Just a Dalmatian," she announced. "But he's better behaved than a lot of people I've met so far," she admitted fondly. Pongo absolutely loathed Charlie so she was sure he'd love Brennan. The two men couldn't be any more different.

“And I bet you look rather dashing in wellies, don’t you?” he teased, not so coyly taking another look at her in that glorious dress of hers and how lovely her legs looked in it. Regardless of what the woman chose to wear (or not to) Brennan could guarantee that he would find her beautiful in it. Though he did not respond to her suggestion he smiled and nodded, enough to show her that he was interested but hopefully not so eagerly that she would reconsider her polite gesture. But he made a mental note to remember that she might enjoy a date in the countryside and would be sure to insert that into their future schedule of outings if this did not mark the end of them.

He found her incredibly charming, though, regardless of whether they were talking about him in a dress or about art or any of the other topics they had spoken about during their time together. Brennan could not understand for the life of him how someone like her was spending time with someone like him, but he did not want to question fate too much or risk losing it.

Brennan was not so sure if having tradition to fall into was necessarily a good thing if you were a Reinhardt male but he could understand the charm behind it if the best thing she had to look forward to were drinks on Christmas. Then again, the man was also certain that there was some exaggeration on her part, and that made him chuckle a little, the thought of the pretty woman in the middle of upheaval around Christmas time with only a drink to keep her company, it seemed like something out of one of those muggle films. He liked it.

And just like that they had made a date to meet again which was much more than he was expecting, his friends would never believe him when he told them the story. Then again, he did not want to reveal too much so soon, or they would surely ruin it. His friends were in the business of ruining good things whenever they came his way and yet he somehow found it in his heart to keep them around.

“A Dalmatian, you say? Lovely, maybe one day I’ll have the pleasure to meet him,” he smiled at the thought. “But fine if you insist that you cannot take our lovely quartz statute off of our hands then I suppose I’ll keep her around until you’ve made space for her. Really, I do not mind it, love, money does not mean much if you have no one to spend it on and all that, surely, you have heard it before,” he teased. “But I ought to close shop before the law enforcement gets suspicious and thinks you’re robbing me blind,” he did not want things to end so soon but he was not anything if not the perfect gentleman and it was getting late.

"Downright stunning," she joked with a dimpled grin, effortlessly falling into this easy banter. Perdita snuck a peek at him and bit her lip. She didn't really date - she was often too busy, too flighty, too bored - but she thought she could date Brennan. If he asked her and meant it. She'd pretty much invited herself to his gallery after hours, coerced him into taking her for a drink and then forced him to show her around. It didn't seem like much fun from his end. "I look better in jodphurs, just so you know," she said with a playful smile.

Perdita lingered by the statue, hands clasped in front of her as she gently swayed from side to side in thought, glancing over at Brennan as he spoke. "Great," she said quickly with a smile. Pongo was trained and trained well and he was a much better judge of character than his owner.

"Give him a scratch behind the ear and he'll be all yours," she said lightly before she laughed, shaking her head so her glossy strands swayed. "I'm sure," she told Brennan with a grin and no malice. "There's room in the garden but it'll break my heart to leave her out in the rain," Perdita commented as she reached out to affectionately stroke one of the flowers on the statue's garland.

But he called her love so casually that it caught her off guard. No one ever called her that and she decided that she liked it. Thankful for the dim lighting, she flushed quickly as she cleared her throat. "I have," she agreed quickly with a nod of her head and a lingering glance at the statue. "But I do like presents," she added gamely. If Brennan wanted to spend his money on her, who was she to deny him? Though after gifting her a painting, she had no idea what the next one would be - earrings? A pony?

"Oh, right," Perdy said quickly as Brennan's suggestion snapped her out of her reverie. With a cursory glance at her watch, she realised he had a point. "This way?" She asked, pointing to the direction they'd come in as she gently brushed past him and climbed the stairs, back up into the gallery space.

It was cool and quiet and oddly eerie, full of shadows in the silence. Perdita lingered, unwilling to make the first move and break the spell. It had been a wonderful night and the thing that stuck with her the most was that Brennan wasn't just handsome, smart, gentlemanly and kind, he was funny. As silly as it sounded, she'd panicked in case they had nothing in common but she remembered they grew up in similar circles and small talk was their national sport.

Her heels echoed as they walked through the space and she stopped at the door, turning to face him, wondering if she had kiss me written all over her face. "So, Friday?" She asked Brennan, gently reminding him of their next arranged date as her hand rested on the handle, dawdling. "I had a really nice night, thank you," she told him as she leaned on her tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. Her eyes dropped to his mouth as they stood close and she could have sworn her hormones were skittering all over the place. "I'll see you," she said with a gentle nod of her head as she stepped outside with a cheery wave, turning her back as she walked quickly back towards the residential street, almost tripping in her haste to get home and tell Mary that she might have actually found the one single good man in London.