Even if there was...

Hi! Hi, just wanted you to know how excited I am. I'm so glad I bought that one!

Nod at her because she obviously is excited and there isn't much more to say about it. She takes her content away in a slight shift of people and the three of them are left intact like a swelling in sand. The girl in a dress and cowgirl boots has washed away, not struggling much, eddies swirling her toward another blond listening to a short female creature. Inquisitive smile passes along the walls reading title placards.

The dune shifts toward the purchased piece, but the man in a scarf shrugs off with his usual melancholy eyed nod.

A smaller one, he gives exact dimensions and a summary. The other 2 men nod at the concept of token-piece or maybe gateway painting, a slow blooming or hesitant affection.

The light is artist's work as well, high and diffuse and magic because no one seems to be posturing under it. The woman with a feather floating above her head glides through, touching the edge of the scarf lightly as she passes. Cowgirl boots returns in her near wake, looking towards her and meeting a gentleman casually backing the dune. A local blue dress social-laughs across their corridor. Face to face, they shake hands as though having seen each other before, maybe because she is tipsier than anything more formal. The blue dress suddenly brushes by, no longer laughing, and they watch her pass together.

Have you seen the clothes upstairs?
Yes, lovely. He sounds so certain that she asks if he has a piece in the show. The walls are very collaborative, works retouched lightly by the main presenter.
No (it's not like that, maybe it sounded wrong), No, just a good friend of the artist's. She looks at his face again.
A very good friend he says in his deep voice, leaning forward a bit inquisitively. Do you?
No, I wish I was here more.... Vague smile, glance toward the bar, then cell face. Fumbling behind her own back for a rattling bunch of keys. A man's nod goodbye starts, caught and tilted midway in an effort to feminize. Then a shrug and glance back up at his face. He's ready for the look, head tilted and eyes almost amused. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders back graceful. Suddenly without the background of ex house mates or lovers or familiar faces that wouldn't wince and strain at her low voice, he looks almost frightening.
Goodbye.

Duck head and turn for the door. Wondering if this is even similar to what anyone else would describe afterward, or if it's all a secret she's somehow trespassed. Almost willing to let that stand and always looking for one more detail.

One painting looks somewhat familiar or popular, with an added smile and bit of harsh wit. Another looks severe and breezy at the same time, to which he's added a rosy wash. As though every bit of lighthearted cheer in him has gone onto the walls in contrast to his smooth face.