[Durham doesn't usually take an overly active interest in perfecting his appearance. Yes, he owns nice suits and his shoes are always polished until they resemble mirrors more than leather, but he isn't one for staring at himself in any surface he can find a reflection in. Tonight, however, the stakes are slightly higher. He knows that Cambridge is, unashamedly, a tricky bastard to pin down. He also knows that as far as the Order are concerned, nothing between this friend of old and his golden boy, Oxford, have changed. The thought provokes half a scowl on a usually neutrally aligned face
( ... )
[ People-watching is a habit of Cambridge's and it doesn't take him very long at all to spot Durham's face in the sea of art-lovers, nor does he waste much time in slipping his way through the throng in Durham's direction. The half-drunk glass of wine - about as average as the art in the room, or so Cambridge reckons - is quickly fobbed off on a loitering waiter in exchange for two fresh ones as he approaches Durham with an appreciative half-smile, half-smirk. ]
Ah, Mr. Baxter - [ Codenames wouldn't do here, not when surrounded by so many civilians at such close-quarters. It wasn't often that Cambridge bothered to use anything other than codenames with fellow operatives - other than Lincoln, who was perpetually just 'Gibson' out of coolly derisive detachment than anything else. ] - What a pleasure to see you.
Hullo, Mr. Moore. [Durham doesn't even roll his eyes at Cambridge's greeting and even though he's well aware of how much abuse he'd get for admitting it, he'll suffer the amateur dramatics for a night with this man.]
The pleasure is mostly yours. Partly mine. [He smiles a less than neutral smile, almost warm and reaching his usually cool blue eyes. The glass of wine he assumes is for him is slipped from Cambridge's hand without ceremony.]
I assume you've already done your rounds? What monstrosity are you going to take me to see first?
Mostly mine? Dear me. [ Cambridge raises an eyebrow, expression deadpan, as he presses the other glass of wine in to Durham's hand as he reaches for it. ] Well, I do believe I was due some if I remember our conversation correctly.
[ He begins to lead Durham through the throngs of gathered art connoisseurs to the first 'monstrosity' with a darkened expression of increasing delight; as a rather critical man by nature, he did so quietly relish the idea of being able to take it out on the artists who had so publicly set themselves on precarious pedestals. Cambridge's infamous standards would not relax for anything, not even for fine art. ]
Oh, it's all terribly average, I'm afraid, but there are one or two true eyesores hidden away. [ He sounds practically excited as he steers Durham towards a minimalist grey canvas and makes no attempt to hide his contempt as he surveys the piece. ] For example, this one is so unbelievably overpriced it would break your heart...
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Ah, Mr. Baxter - [ Codenames wouldn't do here, not when surrounded by so many civilians at such close-quarters. It wasn't often that Cambridge bothered to use anything other than codenames with fellow operatives - other than Lincoln, who was perpetually just 'Gibson' out of coolly derisive detachment than anything else. ] - What a pleasure to see you.
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The pleasure is mostly yours. Partly mine. [He smiles a less than neutral smile, almost warm and reaching his usually cool blue eyes. The glass of wine he assumes is for him is slipped from Cambridge's hand without ceremony.]
I assume you've already done your rounds? What monstrosity are you going to take me to see first?
Reply
[ He begins to lead Durham through the throngs of gathered art connoisseurs to the first 'monstrosity' with a darkened expression of increasing delight; as a rather critical man by nature, he did so quietly relish the idea of being able to take it out on the artists who had so publicly set themselves on precarious pedestals. Cambridge's infamous standards would not relax for anything, not even for fine art. ]
Oh, it's all terribly average, I'm afraid, but there are one or two true eyesores hidden away. [ He sounds practically excited as he steers Durham towards a minimalist grey canvas and makes no attempt to hide his contempt as he surveys the piece. ] For example, this one is so unbelievably overpriced it would break your heart...
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