Meadows Museum
The Meadows Museum is actually a division of the SMU Meadows School of the Arts. The building is large, housing a comprehensive collection of Spanish art with works ranging from the 10th to 20th centuries. Highlights of the collection include masterpieces by Goya and Picasso, as well as beautifully large Baroque canvases, rococo oil sketches, wood sculptures, as well as works by leading artists in the region.
The floors in the building are a smooth and shiny mid-toned hardwood, the walls a creamy beige though most near the entrance are covered with banners that advertise the different exhibits and galleries that can be found through large arches and doorways down the hallways.
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The evening hours of the Meadows Museum is a godsend for those who work during the day and have the evenings available. During the day, classes filter through, making appreciation and study difficult, and the latter is exactly why Brett Coleman is present. So, after classes and after dinner is the perfect time of the day for him.
Currently before him is a photographic essay of the turn of the century, that is, the 19th to the 20th century; portraits of immigrants, pictures of the streets and avenues mixing with horses and cars of downtown Dallas, and the like. Brett's head is canted as he studies the photo of an immigrant family; they are in their 'Sunday best' posed in front of their door, and behind them is shown a small, one-room house. It is sparsely furnished, and there doesn't seem to be many personal items. A study in poverty, the card beneath the photo states. The plight of the immigrant of the last century.
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Michael for his part's quietly looking over the pictures, he moves as always quietly his expression for once goes beyond simply stoic to cold. His hands grasped behind his back he seems to give the pictures little interest, then he spots Brett and his makes his way over. "Good evening, you're well I hope?" He studies the picture, only glancing at Brett for the briefest moment.
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Brett doesn't move from his position, his eyes still on the photo essay before him when he can feel the hair on the base of his neck rise. Glancing to the side, catching the expression change, it gives him a shiver up his spine. Offering the vampire an acknowledging smile and nod, he follows it with, "Michael, good evening. I'm well, thanks." Brett looks to the photos in gesture and returns his attention to Michael, "Heard this was here. I like photos. It captures a moment, and it can be less contrived than a painting." Shaking his head, he snorts a soft chuckle, "Historically speaking, you never know what you're getting in a painting.
"How're you? Haven't seen you for a bit."
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Michael nods. "True, although I think that photos should be more a means of record keeping than art.. a painting is inaccurate because it's the world filtered through the soul of the artist, the lens never lies though." He nods an edge of anger entering his voice as he speaks. "Desiree was recently attacked, she's in the hospital. I've been looking for the attacker, I got his scent well enough, but it was a full moon, and he'd been bitten by one of your friends."
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Desiree?
Brett turns around, his expression surprised, and in the usually amused, easy countenance, the swellings of anger. "We went out to hunt it this weekend. We couldn't find it." And he'd shifted to a beagle, just in case there was any chance of a 'hit' as far as scent went. "And there was a good number of us." Pause. "When was she attacked?"
The discussion regarding the photos is put by the wayside for the moment. Unfortunately, it's a conversation for a different time; the history teacher agrees fully. And the camera sometimes shows something completely different than what the photographer thought.
"Is she okay?"
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"She was hit hard, I gave her my blood, but she's still in critical condition. The creature was a bitten shifter it didn't seem to have much idea what was going on. I'm not sure it's the same one that's been making the other attacks." He looks at Brett. "She was attacked on the twenty fourth." He looks at Brett. "I'm going to find it and then I'm going to make it suffer. For as long as I can."
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"You gave her— " His voice starts a little higher than he expects, and has to stop in order to bring it down at least an octave. "— doesn't that.." turn her into some sort of ghoul, vampire, some sort of thingy? "— do something to her?" Brett just doesn't know. After the whole 'vampire in church', everything is pretty much up for grabs as far as 'vampire knowledge' goes.
"A bitten," he lowers his voice to just something barely above a whisper, "wouldn't be a full form.. sort of some bastardization on two legs. If that was the case, under a full moon, then it can't be the same." Brett shakes his head and bites his lower lip as he considers the ramifications of it all. The chances are good that he just doesn't even know the half of the potential fall-out. "This really is a problem."
Looking at the cold of the vampire's face, Brett takes a deep breath, "Eli… Eli?" The head of the pack of the area? "Aren't you two on talking terms? Before you kill someone? Oh— sorry— tortures someone?"
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Shaking his head Michael sighs. "No, it would make her heal incredibly well though. If I hadn't given her my blood she'd be dead now." He sighs. "She's had my blood before." He studies Brett. "I don't know; I will need to find out if Eli will try to stop me. I have never spoken to the man." He smiles. "If I'm lucky the Shifter in question won't be part of the pack, then I Eli will likely have little interest."
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Now there's information he's never known. Or rather, all the legends and myths run together, and who knows what is real and what is really good PR and what is not? Brett nods and echoes Michael's sigh. Frustration, exhasperation, anger.. he knows the feelings.
"Michael. That shifter. I'm pretty sure he had no idea what it was he was doing. And when he's in human form, if he even remembers, it'd be a miracle. I mean.. even the best of us have little control over impulses in another form. I mean.. normally, I really don't care about the random armadillo on the side of the road." He presses his lips tightly, "I'd think that Eli would want to find him too to find out who did that to him."
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Michael just looks at Brett the sigh having marked the last of his efforts to seem even remotely human. "I know, I've encountered bitten Shifters before." He nods thoughtfully. "Then I'll get that information for him, if I speak to him." He pauses a moment, no movements' made. "I have a lot to consider, I should see that this is handled legally, but I would very much like to deal with it personally as well." He meets Bretts eyes. "I'd appriciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this discussion, it has mostly just been me expressing my temper."
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A really old vampire just vented at him? Brett's not entirely certain if he should be honoured or a little.. disturbed by it all.
Still, there's a part of him that is flattered, and that's the part that wins in the end.
"Ah.. okay. Yes. Last thing I'd want to see is a bunch of annoyed fuzzy things mad at you because of some jerk on their team. You know they'll close ranks just as fast as you guys probably do, and nothing'll get solved." Preaching to the choir, Brett's certain, but never hurts to actually speak it.
Making an 'X' across his chest, "Promise. Not a word to anyone. I gotta say, I'm sort of flattered that you actually figured you could vent at me, though." Sort of.
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Michael nods, he still shows no sign that he cares for anything Brett's saying. "I thought you would want explantation for my next request. I want you to see what you can find out, see if there are any Shifters known to have been 'made' between the last two full moons." He looks at Brett. "I may not actually make him beg for death, but I will hand him over to Eli."
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"I'm not the most well-connected, Michael," Brett begins, but it fades there. He's got a chance at helping Desiree, and the poor guy who got turned and has absolutely no idea, potentially, what he's in for.
Stupid bitten weres.
Taking a deep breath, he can at least make the promise, "I'll look around, see what I can hear, and if need be, track. Maybe Miss Desiree has some of the scent on her?" Which was probably taken into evidence, which means that it's probably at the police station. Which means, he may have to bring Corey into the circle, as he's .. interested in a certain cop. Detective. He smiles tightly, but there is no humour in it. "Thanks for considering not making him beg for death."
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Nodding Michael studies the picture one more time before speaking. "Thank you, although I don't believe there's much of the scent left, it was mostly Desirees' blood." A revealation in itself considering Michael didn't just eat a person laying in that much blood. "Thank you for your time Brett, but I'm afraid I need to be going, I have a lot to do, and the evenings are getting short."
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Okay.. so if Brett pricks a finger, vampires won't come from mile around— assuming he is actually on the menu, which he was somewhat assured that he was not.
"Beagles have good noses." Brett won't go so far as to shift to a bloodhound. Big ears, and the *ba-roooo* is just.. less than dignified.
Nodding his head, Brett steps one pace away to allow the vampire space to depart.. all in body language. "You're welcome, Michael. I'll look into it, I promise. There are a couple ways I could go, and I'll let you know what I come up with." Again, he smiles tightly, no amusement, but there's that.. understanding. "Good evening, Michael. Try and have a good night."
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