I'M NOT A PERVERT, I'M AN ART LOVER.

[no_llores]

WHO: Martín and Alfred.
WHEN: Sunday afternoon. (July 25th)
WHERE: WE IN MOCA, BITCH.
WHAT: Helpful young men assist tourists in getting their daily dose of art in Liberty. Really.

Comments

[waitforsuperman]

Alfred had originally gone to the museum in a hope that there would be food he could bum off some hapless tourist but instead he had sit down next to a gallery. People had started asking him questions (apparently he looked like the kind of guy that knew stuff about painting) and, being the... opportunist he was, Alfred decided to have a little fun with them.

He was leading his own group through the oil gallery when he spotted another group with a guide. He sighed, he was so boned-

"With his gay lover."

A smirk went across his face as he strode over confidently, praying to God that this was going to work. "Actually," he said, clearing his throat, putting his hands behind his back, "He was found with him in Switzerland. His lover was a strapping young-goat herder."

[no_llores]

Was this the actual guide? Martín looked over in surprise. For a few seconds his stomach fluttered nervously as he turned his thoughts over in his head. Play dumb or leave, or... No, he was going to go for it, consequences be damned.

"Luka Baertschi." He nodded at the other man. Those were really just two random names he picked out lighting quick from a group he had once gone skiing with. At least he thought they were Swiss. "Later Baertschi, he went to published the memoirs of they scandaled love affair."

Then he held his breath and raised his brow at the guide.

[waitforsuperman]

So... Either he had been right about the goat-herd or this guy just happened to be playing with a group of tourists. Alfred hesitated before stepping forward and nodding, a hand gesturing towards the painting.

"Yes, exactly. Baertschi. Actually I believe those volumes are on sale in the museum's bookstore if you are interested in purchasing them. But I'd advise against it if you're squishy. Baertschi did not spare any of the details."

He looked at the blond, winking slightly. "We'll be... joining our two tours now. I'm Alfred and I'm an expert in Hungarian Cubist impressionist charcoal paintings from 9th century Spain."

[no_llores]

Gracias a Dio. He almost laughed with relief, feigning scratch an itch on his nose just to hide the thin smile stealing across his face. Then he took a step closer to Alfred, sincerely doubting that was his real name, and struck a scholarly pose.

"My name is Martín," he told the second group. "I study the Polynesiastic Abstracted Expressionism of 1920s. Now, we going to the..." He looked over his shoulder through the doorway of the next exhibit, squinting to discern what was in the room beyond. A metal sculpture glowed faintly beneath a spotlight.

"Well, we like to called it the Mecha Room, don't we, Alfred?"

WELL I MAKE IT LOOK BETTER. I CAN SMEYES JUST LIKE TYRA.

[waitforsuperman]

Following him and peering over his shoulder, Alfred jabbed the map with a finger. "Yeah. And there's this totally hot chick working there," he said, grinning at Martin.

"Look, we just gotta go upstairs and then cut across the courtyard. And we should probably keep this map." Better to be safe than sorry, and it actually did kinda make them look for like tourists and less at risk to get kicked out.

[no_llores]

"I, I do not need these any longer." Martín snorted softly, taking one last look at the map before closing the pamphlet. He held it out to Alfred between his fingers and then tapped his own temple with a haughty smile. "Memories like elefante."

Now he stuck his neck out into the corridor to make sure the coast was clear. The high ceilings made even a muffled voice echo, but he was sure no one would notice anything out of the ordinary. Satisfied, he waved Alfred over, and together they walked around the "Mecha Room" briskly (but not too briskly) to the winding staircase that opened into the courtyard.

"See? No problems. Is very straight for-" An old women from earlier hobbled onto the stone path in front of them.

"Yoohoo! Excuse me, Albert, Marvin!" Beaming, she gave them a short wave and came even closer. "You never got to finish your story about the..." She looked around conspiratorially and whispered, "Mecha-Nazis."

[waitforsuperman]

"Well," Alfred bent over and also lowered his voice, pulling Martin down with him, "truth be told, not many people know this, but I came across it in my studies of Turkish literature and it's influence on Shakespearean England. All the Nazi gold in Switzerland wasn't in paper, it was actual gold, but we all know gold bricks are really heavy and hard to carry unless you're well," he grinned and winked at her, "like me."

He looked at Martin for a moment, allowing the old lady to look over his arms approvingly before continuing, "So, the Nazis took these robots made by the Japanese and transported all the gold there in giant suitcases. That's why the Swiss still have all that gold, they can't move it."

[no_llores]

And whilst Alfred was distracted, Martín took his turn looking over his arms, peering surreptitiously out of the corners of his eyes. Well, he guessed they were... all right. Nothing to write home about, really. His hand automatically went to his own bicep, lighting pushing on the muscle through his sleeve as he muttered a quiet "tch" under his breath.

"That," Martín added in sotto voce, touching the side of his nose knowingly, "is covered on the duration of they three o'clock tour."

He gave Alfred a pointed look and smiled forcefully.