Schön W. Freund (
u_can_have_it_4_a_song) wrote2015-12-29 03:48 pm
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Ephemeral Truths [Verity]
When Verity arrives for her daily shift, Schön's demeanor in answering the door suggests this might not be just another day at the office. "Ah, good morning. I wonder if you might feel like a small change in the routine?"
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No reason to make anyone think he might be up to something.
"You know I don't know much about art," she murmurs to him as they walk. "Nobody's going to believe I'm some kind of expert."
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And then they're turning out of the hallway and into a room where two virtually identical paintings stand on easels. An aging, friendly-looking woman stands between them, and smiles when she sees Schön; her graying hair is tied back in a bun, and her cream-colored blouse is loose and light. To one side stands a plump, red-faced man whose neck is a little too large for the collar of his very expensive suit, and whose hair can't decide whether it's blond or ginger, but is determined to stand up in one impertinent, curly tuft at the top of his forehead, a determined island against the encroaching bald spot.
"Schön," the woman greets, opening her arms. "Margaret," he replies, returning her embrace lightly and kissing her cheek. "Allow me to introduce Ms. Verity Willis, my expert on forgeries." That last prompts a bitter harrumph from Mr. Suit.
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Margaret gives her a puzzled look, but at a nod from Schön goes to lean against a table. Mr. Suit folds his arms across his chest, lifting his chin and glaring down his nose at Verity, daring her to... something.
Schön stays by Verity's side, casting her an inquiring glance. He'd very much like to hear her diagnosis.
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"No," he points out gently, quietly, "I said at least one was a--"
"PREPOSTEROUS!" Mr. Suit explodes, throwing up his meaty hands. "She hardly glanced at them! You can't mean to take the word of this, this child, after the most cursory examination? Margaret, you have been ill-used, and you, you, Mister Freund, your charlatanism is exposed at last."
Schön simply gives Verity a look that says without words, "you see why I wanted to embarrass this guy?"
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Mr. Suit isn't making a great impression on her. He's getting one of those looks from her. With the eyebrows. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that there's been a lot of disagreement about which one of these is the 'real' one? Experts lining up on both sides?"
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"There has," Mr. Suit confirms grumpily. He has apparently taken every disagreement personally. "I have been studying the Flemish masters my entire life--I could spot a fake when you were just a bottle of wine on in your father's pantry. What makes you so knowledgeable?"
At the slight against Verity, Schön's lips tighten, eyes narrowing. He's quite prepared to verbally flay the man, if Verity doesn't do it first.
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She continues to pin him with her look for a long moment before she turns and gives Margaret a perfectly pleasant smile. "They're very pretty. What are you going to do with them?"
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Margaret is normally used to these little arguments between big-ego art experts, but this one got real personal, real fast, and her British manners are struggling to keep up. "Ah, the original we were going to feature as one of the centerpieces of our Flemish masters exhibit. You're quite certain they're really both...?" She seems more concerned that the museum may have been taken for a ride than doubting Verity's abilities.
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Margaret sighs, but rallies admirably. "We can manage," she agrees.
"Marge, you can't mean you're going to listen to this--this child?!" the big man demands. "Schön just trots her in from nowhere, and that's it?"
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Yeah, the suit isn't even worth her attention anymore. Schön can handle it, he said so. She just needed to tell him if anything was real. "Do you end up with a lot of forgeries in storage? I've always wondered where they go when they've been found out."
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Schön is, indeed, running interference on Mr. Suit, pricking his pride to get him to point out the details that make him say one painting is true, and the other false. With that laid out, he can find the faults in the other. It might be something subtle, like the non-contemporary wood grain in the wood on which the canvas was stretched, or something. It'll take a while.
Margaret, meanwhile, gives a nervous laugh. "Oh, I hope we don't have many forgeries in storage! They generally go to the police, so they can catch the people who made them, and sold them. We hope."
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"Oh, I thought maybe they'd get returned to you eventually since it's the museum's property. It might be kind of fun to do a show that's all known forgeries. Very meta, you know?"
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"Well, a piece that's donated is the museum's property. Some pieces are on loan, or are being offered for the museum to acquire. That's actually the case with these two, in fact."
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Suit caught that. He's been keeping an ear out for such intimations (for some reason) and thunders, "how dare you? I am an impartial third party!" Which is such a lie.
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"Margaret, shouldn't someone call the police?"
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He does indeed know the look, and so keeps a wary eye on Mr. Suit. The man's reputation will go down in flames, now.
Margaret sighs. "Yes, I'm afraid I'll have to." Oh, look, Mr. Suit's ruddy complexion is suddenly draining to gray.
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