Chapter 1: Meet the Curator

Confidence is a preference for the habitual voyeur
Parklife, Blur

"Bloody Hell!" Killian sighed in annoyance as he ran his hand through his hair, pacing back and forth in his office. "I really don't have time for this!"

"It's your job, you know?" Tink offered from the couch she was perched on, her blonde hair tied to a bun, as she slowly cleaned the paint from her nails. "You are the museum head curator after all…"

"And you are the head restorer… don't you have a painting to go salvage or something? Leave me to commiserate in silence and peace?" He retorted through clenched teeth, his hand balling into a fist.

"Please, you love it when you have me as an audience to complain about whatever they have you do that you don't feel it's an appropriate fit for your intellect." She combined her honeyed voice with a slight tilt of her head and an amused grin.

He grinned back at her, enjoying their usual banter. They had bantered for years: sometimes it was cynical, sometimes there was contempt, but the underlying tone of caring for one another was always there.

"I don't curate modern art, Tink. I am not interested in doing it." He said, voice surly, his eyes going to hers.

"And I know there is a reason for it, Killian." She expressed apprehensively. "But she is the rising star of the moment. They just secured her for her first exhibition. Of course they want you to curate it. You are their golden boy."

"There is a reason why I liked to curate 19th century art, Tink." His voice was flat as he looked at the white wall behind her, focusing on the way the sunlight cast a streak of bright in it. "The artists are dead."

"Killian! That is somber and macabre, even for you." She admonished him, her eyes widening at the harsh tone of his words.

"I don't want to deal with a snob and hipster newcomer artist who is into the latest trends and probably has an opinion for everything and anything. I don't have the time to nurture artist's egos. Or listen to their opinions on how to do my job."

"It's their art. Their exhibition."

"My name on the curator tag. My responsibility if it backfires and critics hate it." He ran his hand through his hair.

"Have you at least seen her work?" Tink replied, annoyance getting into her. "Sometimes you are too full of yourself, Killian Jones."

Killian paced back to his desk, his eyes wandering over the art prints laying there. He picked up one and looked at it more in detail. "They are good… I'm not saying she's bad. But…" He hesitated, his eyes squinting a little, "There is something missing. I can't put my finger on it, but there seems to be something caged in here… something that is waiting to be unleashed."

He looked up to find Tink grinning amused at him. "What? You were the one that told me to do my job." He said defensively as he placed the print back onto the surface of this desk. His eyes caught sight of the photo frame sitting there and he picked it up.

"Have you called him?" He asked her.

Tink shifted uncomfortable in her seat. "There's nothing to talk about, Killian."

"He had no choice, Tink." Killian said defensively. "You have to know that."

"Killian… stay out of it." Tink pleaded, her eyes almost filling with tears, before she shook her head and looked defiantly at him. "Besides, we were talking about your insufferable ass, not your brother's." She scolded.

Killian took a deep breath, looking at the prints on his desk again. He felt trapped, caged. He felt the need to escape this office, these prints that were screaming at him so loudly he could not yet make out the meaning. He needed to unleash, to calm down his own inner demons before even starting to untangle the essence behind these prints.

He cracked his neck from side to side as he grabbed his satchel and pulled the strap over his head, "I'm suffocating here, I'm out." He announced briefly as he headed to the door.

"And where are you going?!" Tink asked baffled.

"You know exactly where I am going." Killian smirked at her before turning around and waving his hand. "Call Liam, Tink. He misses you." He finished before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.