Art In The Dc Universe. Hm.

art in the dc universe. hm.

Anything could be deadly in the right hands. A marriage. A career. Court documents. A relationship. Art had too much experience with people using him to take anything at face value. “Just be careful.” He glanced at the radio. MJ had turned it off when Patrick’s name had come through the static, but Art had the morbid urge to turn it back on and see what they were saying. “You won’t know it’s too late until it is.” He had too much experience with that, too. He was too stupid to see what was going on and he’d paid the price for it. He didn’t want MJ falling victim to that.

˖ ⭑₊˚ He focused on the oil on his fingers, on working the rag over them methodically, smearing black grease as it pulled away from his skin. His mouth flickered up in a small smile and he searched out Art's eyes. The small of his back was pressed into the countertop where all of his tools were laying out, but he had finished up on the car for the day nearly a half hour ago. He had turned the radio off a little while before that, when it had turned to celebrity news, and now it was just them. Maybe he didn't know everything, but he knew that whatever made Art go pale and tense when they heard his old partner's name was bad. He replied after a minute, as careful with his words like he usually was, ' you make a modelling contract sound like it could be deadly. '

— @notefinal : ‘  don’t  let  what  they  want  eclipse  what  you  need .  ’

Tashi hated parties like these. She always had. She knew they were necessary, but she hated them all the same. She watched with mild interest as Carnegie picked the lock and smiled as the bottle was held out. She grabbed it from Carnegie’s hand and tugged the top off, taking a drink straight from the bottle and setting it on the edge of the desk. “Now I’m ready.” She said it with a sharp smile and her fingers still wrapped around the neck of the bottle. “What do you want to know?” She didn’t quite know why she was entertaining a ballerina’s questions about her life, but she had nothing better to do.

˖ ⭑₊˚ Light eyes narrowed and she stared at Tashi Duncan for a long moment before humming. Carnegie crouched in her thousand dollar dress, tugging on cupboard doors shamelessly, until she found a locked one ; that would be where the good stuff was stored, not just the champagne on little trays being served by waiters out there where the party supposedly was. In her opinion, there was little to prove that was really the case. The real party was wherever she decided, and tonight, that was with Tashi in some the office investment guy with shares in athletic wear. A wave of blonde fell in front of her face as she pulled a bobby pin from her hair and unlocked the little door. With an elegant turn, the ballerina held out a single barrel whiskey, ' I believe I have come to your rescue. '

— @notefinal : ‘  i  need  more  liquor ,  i’m  not  ready .  ’

Riff’s grin widened as she relented. He took the lead back from her when the beat changed and grinned even wider. “I ain’t gonna step on ya.” He was confident about that. Riff had always said he was the best dancer in the ton, and he wasn’t going to risk that by stepping on Hannah Milbanke’s shoes. The dance was a long one, but Riff didn’t mind. He liked long dances. It meant he got to show off more. And he was very keen on showing off with Hannah. “You really gonna beat me with that?” he asked, eyeing her fan warily. He didn’t think she would, but then again, he wouldn’t put it past her.

hannah immediately snatched the card back, gaping at his impertinence. she was equal parts irritated and shocked that he had the nerve to call her out on her little white lie. didn't he know a lady was entitled to her secrets? and so they stood for a few tense seconds, staring each other down like they were dueling with their eyes. she so hated to lose a battle. but it was entirely her own doing, after all, she had been the one to bring him to such an event. " fine, " hannah eventually relented, her expression sour at the truce. when hannah extended her hand for him to accept, she guided them to the other dancing pairs, leading them with confidence as if she were the man. " but make one false trod on my shoes and I will beat you with my fan. "

@c0mpositeur liked for a starter!

Art didn’t talk to Christian very much. Their paths didn’t cross a lot. Art tended to be busy with his clients and Christian was busy with the show and Satine. Still, Art was fond of the composer. He was a kind, somewhat steady presence in the chaos that was the Moulin Rouge. He knocked on the door of Christian’s apartment, shifting his weight as he waited. “Christian? Are you in there?” Zidler had sent him to collect rent, although why Christian needed to pay rent when he wasn’t even living in the Rouge was a mystery Art had yet to solve.