Anthony had shuffled into the waffle house with the rest of the group, though he was on autopilot more than anything else. He ordered an omelet…damn the waffles, and seemed to get lost in the crowd. That was amazing, considered he looked like a damn superhero, but this was the city…people were already use to people like him, and no one asked questions. He loved the city. Around him was the buzzed of hushed conversation. The “how could this happen?” question thrown around more than once. Tony couldn’t say one way or the other…he didn’t even know how to feel at this point.<br/><br/>He’d heard Aline speak and took a bite of his omelet, before he spoke. It would have probably been the only real indication the man was around since he got there.  “The building…is just a building. The works lost, though priceless to us all, could be replaced. Not recreated, but replaced. I’ve only been here for a little while, but I’ve seen some talent here. Real, honest-to-god talent, and as long as the talent stays, the art won’t stop, and if the art doesn’t stop, then we’ll always have a gallery…” he almost hated drawing the attention to him, but the dream wasn’t the building…the dream didn’t die. She just needed to be informed of such.<br/>