Whiling away the unending stretches of time (RP for <lj site="livejournal.com" user="ambitious_woman

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Adam was learning to like Cardiff well enough, getting past his natural inclination to say, "But it's Wales," at least out loud. And it wasn't as if he wasn't used to being inactive, after thirty years in a far too small room. But his brief spurt of murder, mayhem, and attempts at world destruction, followed by his, thankfully brief, burial, rescue and relocation had left him feeling a bit at loose ends.

Jack had Torchwood, had the Doctor, sometimes, had the world to save in ways that Adam couldn't really help with. Or hadn't helped with. He didn't know where he fit, at the least. Not part of the team, not part of that part of Jack's life, but there, in Jack's house, with Jack, with the cat, with...his memories, his past, his ghosts, his dreams.

So he took to wandering. He left shortly after Jack in the mornings, roaming the streets, learning them, learning their pathways and byways. He found cafes and little bookstores, made friends with their proprietors. He spent far too much time at the library, and far more on the water, just breathing the fresh air, and appreciating the freedom to come and go. But he felt like a ghost through most of it, drifting in the shadows of the city Jack protected, with nothing truly his, nothing to strive for, no idea where to start, even, because every plan he came up with he was fairly certain Jack would shoot down.

He'd walked most of the morning, carving out new paths to ramble, when he found the gallery, tucked away in a charming niche. The display in the window was bright and warm, and the day was grey and chilly, perfect weather for brooding, but he was getting tired of brooding, and the window beckoned. It wasn't a gallery he'd explored before, not an owner he'd exchanged words with yet, and the novelty alone would have appealed as much as the colors. Putting a charming, if neutral, smile on his face, he stepped inside, drifting toward the art on the far wall, its colors immediately drawing his eye.

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[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

From her position in the corner of the gallery, Reinette silently judged her new arrival. Long accustomed to forming quick and accurate assumptions about others, it was a skill that had only perfected itself over the past months.

The stranger was well dressed and handsome, that much was obvious to the untrained eye. Be he was also self possessed, well spoken and was appreciating the art as opposed to merely looking at it.

Some of this Reinette knew because he was not perhaps, that much of a stranger.

She had watched him often, with Jack.

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So far he had tried to not just randomly buy large pieces for Jack's flat. His own things were still in warehouses across the globe, with the dearest in Montreal, but he'd left them behind, and, besides - they didn't really go with Jack's decor, such as it was. There was always the line he was afraid of crossing, and he was careful to not insert himself too thoroughly, the habits of a lifetime of living on the edges of people's lives too far ingrained.

The piece on the wall, he really liked, however, and that made him consider, maybe, just possibly, he might bring something in that could be theirs, not one or the other's. Perhaps. It was hard, even now, to make that fit in his head with what had been for so long.

He pulled himself away from the one, turning to survey the rest of the gallery as a whole, and saw the woman in the corner, watching him. He gave her a charming smile, moving across the floor. "You have some lovely pieces here."

[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

He did not wait for her to approach him. It was telling, and a trait Reinette would have most certainly appreciated in her former life. Now her days and routines held less structure and intrigue, if only slightly. She was far more observer than actor. Still, the choice made her smile.

She acknowledged his greeting with the tilt of her head.

"They are mostly from unknowns. Even students. Those, that for the most part, have not discovered the strain of merging art and creation with business and survival. I find them, encourage them and eventually? Their work comes here."

Reinette extended a hand.

"My name is Jeanne."

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He crossed the rest of the distance to meet her, hand extending to take hers in a firm, warm grip.

"Hello, Jeanne, it's nice to meet you. I'm Adam," he said with another smile. "You're a patron, then, as well as a gallery owner? I've always thought that must be a rewarding sort of calling, to find someone, guide them alone, help them reach their greatest potential..."

It was what he'd hoped to do with Peter, before, all that potential shining there, just waiting for someone to help him see the wonder of what he was instead of thinking his ability a curse or something he needed to protect others from. But that dream, too, had died with the other, and now he wasn't sure what he dreamed anymore