“Mikkel.” The name felt foreign on his tongue; not surprising considering his new companion's accent was distinctly un-American. Quinn offered the slightest of grins to Mikkel as their palms touched, enjoying the warmth from his firm grasp as it seeped into his chilly, elegant digits. “The pleasure is all mine,” Quinn replied, though there was a hint of facetiousness clinging to the tail of his words. Paired with the mischievous glint in Quinn's deep brown eyes, the young man's niceties could be taken to translate into a whole catalog of dubious meanings. Despite the cliched configuration of Quinn's response, the intent was almost uncharacteristically genuine. So far, Quinn<i>had </i>found making Mikkel's acquaintance to be nothing short of joyful.<br/><br/>When their hands released one another, Quinn's eyes couldn't stop themselves from following the path of Mikkel's palm, slipping so casually into its tailored pocket. Not touchy, this one. Not immediately. The night was still young, and Quinn could only surmise as to how the evening would progress. Perhaps he was giving this Mikkel too much credit. Perhaps he was simply a handsome older gentlemen sharing an interest. Nothing more.<br/><br/>“I'm sorry to hear my lack of offense has offended you.” A smirk danced along Quinn's face, pulling up the corner of his mouth and revealing a small hint of bright white teeth. “I do feel obligated to make this up to you in whatever fashion I can. If wandering through to the next exhibit at your side is the only way to relieve this tension between us, then I'd be a monster to say no.”<br/><br/>Prior to leaving his home for the evening, Quinn had made a plan to see as much of de Sagazan's work as he possibly could. He was familiar with the artist's sculptures, albeit only through the filter of a computer screen. Craving to admire the pieces in person, Quinn would have eventually strolled through the neighboring exhibit regardless of whether he had received an invitation to do so, but strangely he found the idea of sharing someone else's company attractive.<br/><br/>With the only warning being the satisfied smile on his face, the young man turned and began moving toward the opposite side of the wall where a large doorway opened up into another brightly lit display. Quinn's strides were long and quick, giving the hard impression that Quinn was never one to dawdle or waste time. Whether the charming stranger followed him was truly of little concern. He welcomed it, certainly, but de Sagazan's work could be enjoyed sans company.<br/><br/>Sitting innocuously near the west wall was a<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Fmacabregallery.com%2Fupload%2Folivier-de-sagazan-exhibition-472.jpg&amp;hash=33359e4ce2973683faceb1f80e754e87" href="http://macabregallery.com/upload/olivier-de-sagazan-exhibition-472.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">display showcasing three distinct sculptures</a>. The flesh of the figures was dark and mottled, reminding Quinn of preserved corpses excavated from deep within the dirt. Though far from the mummified bodies they reminded him of, there was something about the sculptures that piqued Quinn's interest, though not in the way he would have expected.<br/><br/>“You know what I find incredibly fascinating?” he began, lazily gesturing toward the trio, “I find these works charming, in their way, but compared to the raw severity of<i>Trichotomy</i>they almost seem tame, don't they?” Perhaps it was the lack of bright, piercing color affecting Quinn's ability to connect with the pieces. Perhaps it was the relative gentleness of their poses. Difficult to say.<br/><br/>“What do you think, Mikkel? Is my affinity for the color red and my inherent blood lust depreciating my capacity to enjoy these sculptures?”