Owner of "The Box" Art Gallery
Chelsea
Bisexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
21 years old
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Post by Jack Crawford on Nov 25, 2014 21:45:18 GMT -6
They were cold; but in a decent way. Jack inhaled through his nose and let the tingling sensation spread from one end of his spine to the other. He let it shake him completely.
The butt of his cigarette lit up like July as he inhaled it.
Jack shared her a smile and tilted his head. He reached out her cigarette and decided instead to cup her delicate hand in his two larger ones. He reached in with his mouth and touched his end to hers. He breathed in heavy, again, and then gave a few smaller puffs.
He pulled back and winked at her. "That got her started," he said.
Looking away, Jack pushed his back against the wall of his gallery and lifted his chin towards the hazy sky. The clouds were too fluffy; it was a picture-perfect winter evening. It made him feel small.
"How are you finding life after school?" he asked, more to break the silence than anything else. Jack found fuel from people - he loved being surrounded by others and having a party. At this moment, though, he just needed a break.
"I half expected all of us to be married with ten kids by now," he continued. "Happy to see I'm not the only one who failed my expectations." He laughed and hoped she would too. Jack wished he remembered more about the girl he stood beside him.
She was beautiful, in an oriental way, and far too confident for her own good. He liked that. She knew money, too, which meant she knew the fear that came with loosing it. Money had destroyed and twisted his mother - was that what had happened to her own parents?
He noted she didn't mention them.
"I'm surprised we weren't chummier during school," he said. "I'm rather liking you now."
Jack took a step closer to her. He inhaled the rest of his cigarette and tossed its death to the ground. He stomped it out - just in case. A few people were walking the streets, huddled together in jackets and making their way back from a date or off to one. He liked that he saw them. It meant he had picked a perfectly wonderful spot for his Gallery.
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Owner of "The Box" Art Gallery
Chelsea
Bisexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
21 years old
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Post by Jack Crawford on Nov 12, 2014 21:32:00 GMT -6
Jack ran his tongue behind his teeth, feeling the grooves. He held his breath. He genuinely held to the belief that most women didn't have the brain for sarcasm, so his heart skipped a beat when she replied to his off-hand remark. He watched her, though Jack tried not to look like he was, for any hint of the truth. Just before he imploded she cracked. She smiled. She laughed.
"Please make sure to share those friends," he remarked now that they were sitting. "An art gallery can always do with some prosperity." He winked again and ran his hands over his knees. The conversation was getting rather fun. "I'm just commie enough to say that wealth needs to be shared - at least between friends."
Jack cleared his throat and listened as she spoke. Hannah had an interesting back story, that much was true. "The Van Alstynes?" he repeated rather loudly. What a magical name that was. A powerful one.
"You live with them?" he asked to himself, more quietly. That felt like an even deeper story he wanted to hear. Though maybe for another time. It all felt entirely political.
"Beauty, taste, and musical talent!" he said with a laugh. Jack reached over to squeeze her shoulder. Had he somehow managed to stumble upon an exotic piece? That was how he made business. How he stayed ahead of the curve of culture. A woman, and an Asian woman at that, with the class and experience to stand up to a crowd, and then the talent to wow them. She'd be wonderful for him - if only he owned a jazz bar.
"You must give me the information for your next gig. I'm sure it'll be wonderful!" He smiled honestly. "It doesn't happen to be burlesque jazz, is it?" Jack was mocking her - playfully. Or so he thought.
Jack liked the way she talked. He disliked, however, how she tried. There was a look to her that made it painfully obvious that she was trying. He didn't know, though, if it was that she was just trying to be better than she was. He took note of it and moved on.
He forced a chuckle. Then another. By the third one it had become natural again. "It has only just opened - well, for two months I guess," he confessed. "Progress is slow: not everyone has taste like you. Not yet."
He had big dreams for the place. "C'est la vie," he announced in a perfect accent.
Jack stood up off the bench and motioned out the open door. "I'd love some fresh air," he stated. "Join me for a cigarette?"
Without waiting he made his way through the maze of walls, paintings, and guests. He smiled when he had to, even shook a hand or two. People seemed to be enjoying themselves. That felt nice.
Outside the air felt brisk but pleasant. It hadn't yet gotten unacceptable to bare flesh. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his case. A few swift motions later and he was lit up. Inhaling. Feeling warmer.
"C'est la vie."
ooc: I don't know why I've switched to red D:
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Owner of "The Box" Art Gallery
Chelsea
Bisexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
21 years old
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Post by Jack Crawford on Nov 9, 2014 18:19:56 GMT -6
He smiled. She seemed to relax by a few degrees, though Jack still felt there was enough tension in her body to crack a walnut clean in two. She wiped his grin away the second it formed, however. "The Upper West Side," he repeated. His eyes moved to the floor as he retreated into his thoughts. Jack tried to dig deeper into his memories. To recall anything he could about her. "Well color me commie red!" Hannah had money. Or at least faked it well enough that he thought she might have money. She liked art, at least. There was no mistaking the fact that she was a witch, too. They had gone to school together, even if the well of memories he had of her truly did run dry. He crossed his hands across his chest and looked back up at the artwork. "I shouldn't be referring to you as Don Hannah, should I?" He tried to grin through the question. He may have even managed it. Jack looked around and saw that most of the guests had gone back to gawking at the pieces they would never really understand. They were safe to retreat back into their own bubble. If Jack had joined a territory, it certainly wasn't out of the possibilities that other students hadn't. Even if they were Asian students. "Kidding aside," he followed up, "Let me know when you're ready to move to the crown of the city. I'll help you get settled here in Chelsea anytime." Moving so that they could better look at one another, Jack motioned towards a bench and soon took a seat.
He adjusted his bow tie out of habit. "I'm glad that it sounds life has treated you well after Warren." Jack was happy to move the conversation along. "I don't see nearly as many old faces as I should. I know the city is massive, but you'd think we'd stumble on together more than once a year or whatever."
Taking a final big-sip of his water, the businessman put the wine glass off to the side and exhaled heavily. It was true. Warren had gone by so fast.
"What do you do? If you tell me you own a rival gallery, well, let me be the first to tell you I haven't heard of it and you're a failure." He winked - such a gentleman.
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Owner of "The Box" Art Gallery
Chelsea
Bisexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
21 years old
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Post by Jack Crawford on Nov 7, 2014 22:50:14 GMT -6
She looked good. At least. That was something.
And she spoke like she was a somebody. Was she?
"Its Jack," he corrected her with a smile. "Mr. Crawford makes me feel old." That was the God honest truth. He sighed and placed his hands in his pockets. An old man was the top of his list of things he didn't want, need, or want to be.
"These people aren't here to make trouble," he replied to her. That one he wasn't so sure about. "They're here to pretend to be finer than they are. Most of them, anyway." Jack let a quick laugh escape his lips. "It is all okay, though. An idiot's money is just as bankable as a King's." His voice got lower, and though his face stood pointed at the large painting before him, Jack's eye was watching her. "And a muggle's is as good as a wizards."
Surely they couldn't have been the only wand bearers in the gallery tonight. But they were the only two he knew of, which brought him a small comfort. He could tell that some in the room were watching them. The worst of them were no doubt waiting for the spectacle of him throwing her out. The others were probably just bored. Art could never truly be appreciated sober.
"At least you have taste," he added with a sigh. She had chosen one of the better pieces to stand in front of. Jack found her completely unsettling. Cool header and soft. He'd rather her laugh. Or at least cry. He could here more people entering The Box but he chose to ignore them.
He knew very little about her. The woman's name was Hannah, he knew. They had exchanged words in the past, though perhaps never on purpose. "I figured you'd be out to California or something," he said. "New York doesn't quite strike me as your scene." Jack took a sip of water and absentmindedly ran a finger along the edge of the artwork. "Where are you living these days? Chinatown?"
It was an important question.
Jack's opinion on race complicated. He didn't buy the science about skull size or brain power. He'd seem some pretty fat-headed white people be dumber than rocks. The European and, increasingly, American exploitation of China was doing business a lot of good, too. He doubted that had much to do about race, though. It was just politics. Still, Jack was a product of his generation - but most importantly he cared about his reputation.
If he was going to let a woman like her in his shop - at his party! - she needed to at least be half-decently beautiful and more than decently qualified at art work. She was passing.
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Owner of "The Box" Art Gallery
Chelsea
Bisexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
21 years old
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Post by Jack Crawford on Nov 6, 2014 23:19:27 GMT -6
Hello! Please feel free to call me Fell! I play Jack Crawford, and I'm sure it will be a lot of fun to prank all your characters! I just wanted to introduce myself to everyone formally, and to openly invite any new players to PM me with ideas for plots! Writing is my way of relaxing; I'm not the best at it, but I'll do my best to make things interesting. I'm 24, almost 25 - live in New Jersey just a stone-throw from the Big Apple, am an avid reader and avatar fan, and may or may not have been a vulcan in a past life. I'm also really into politics and social issues. I've lived in Japan and Canada, and certainly miss it! Thanks a bunch.
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Owner of "The Box" Art Gallery
Chelsea
Bisexual
Sexuality
Single
Relationship Status
21 years old
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Post by Jack Crawford on Nov 6, 2014 23:08:53 GMT -6
Jack liked a bow tie. This one was red with a silver stripe slightly off from the middle. It looked nice alongside his white button-up shirt, all wrapped up in a comfortable green sweater with a rather inappropriately gaping v-neck. His slacks were gray - they were okay. He'd make do.
The young man's smile was a mile wide as his buzzed in and out between guests, the bar, and the front door. The lights from his gallery, the soon-to-be-famous The Box, were the brightest on the small commercial strip of Chelsea. The streets outside were illuminated by the yellow haze, the shadows of his patrons and guests dancing like demons. He was in his element and certainly loved playing the role of the host.
Tugging at his bow tie, Jack make a quick shuffle over to a group of people gazing at a large painting. It hung just perfectly on the wall. It was a beautiful piece.
"Just how crisp!" he announced to the set of guests. They turned their attention to him, the glasses in their hands lacking the necessary bubbles to be really worth while. Water was all they had; damn prohibitionists. They seemed eager for him to speak. "Once I found that man - a boy, really - painting on the streets I just knew he had talent in him."
Nothing in that story was true, but that didn't really matter. "Just look at the colors he uses," Jack added, waving a finger at the work. "Its almost like he's captured The Great War in this one piece alone." The group turned from him back to the painting, studying it. He wasn't sure if they believed him at not.
"We're never going to have another war, after all. The war to end all wars makes for beautiful artistic interpretation." The dealer made sure never to remind his customers that the work on display was for sale. High class customers didn't like to be reminded they were customers. The oddities of business.
He offered a final smile and turned away from the party, setting his gaze at the larger audience. It wasn't just a party - it was a means to showcase all the new art he had collected. The space had been completely rearranged. He emptied the entire space out so that it was just one large show room, and then put up fake walls on wheels of different sizes that cut the place up like a maze. Benches were distributed unevenly. The violinist he had hired sat in the corner, almost forgotten, his music humming nicely into the background.
In his survey of the room he spotted her. She stuck out.
Jack sighed and paused to consider himself. He hadn't quite made up his mind on what to do when he approached her. A hand reach out to cup her shoulder. "Fancy seeing one of you here," he said with a cool tone. Did he mean fellow wizard, or a China-woman? He didn't make it clear. He only half remembered her.
"We wont have any trouble, will we?"
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