Sette glanced out the window. A bus hissed to a stop, disgorging people in a stream. The world moved forward.
“I’m between things,” she said before she could stop herself.
Miquela let that stew in the silence between them. Sette appreciated that more than she expected to.
“I used to be a doctor,” she continued. “Now I paint. And lately…” She gestured vaguely. “It’s quieter than I expected.”
“Quieter,” Miquela repeated.
“In my head.”
“Oh, that can be dangerous.”
“You sound like you know.”
“I do,” Miquela said.
There was something in the way she said it that made Sette look at her differently. “And what are you between?” she asked.
Miquela traced the rim of her cup with one finger. “Cities,” she said. “Countries. Phases of my life.”
“That sounds expensive.”
Miquela gave her a knowing look. “It is.”
“Work?”
“Investment,” she replied. “Property. Ventures.”
“Control,” Sette translated.
Miquela didn’t flinch. “Influence,” she corrected.
“And you came to this city for influence?” Sette asked.
“I came because I was bored,” Miquela said, and her honesty startled them both.
Sette nodded. “I can definitely understand that.”
They fell into an easy rhythm after that.
Miquela asked about Sette’s studio… where it was, what she painted, and whether she preferred oil or acrylic. She listened intently, not the polite listening of someone waiting for their turn to speak, but the active kind that followed threads and enjoyed tugging on them when the time was right.A master conversationalist. Just great.Sette found herself explainingthings she hadn’t articulated in months, like how light behaved differently on linen versus canvas, how she liked to build a painting in thin, translucent layers so her erased sketches still showed some personality in her final work.Always let them see some of the first draft.If she ever became an art professor, she might tell her students that. Her biggest, hottest tip.
Miquela targeted her questions right into Sette’s perceived ego. She didn’t pretend to know art, but she didn’t play ignorant, either.God, for once.
“And you?” Sette asked at one point. “What do you build?”
“Casinos,” Miquela said. “Sometimes, people.”
Sette snorted. “People?”
“Businesses,” Miquela clarified, though the pause before the correction felt deliberate. “I enjoy seeing potential.”
“And shaping it?”
“If one allows it,” Miquela said.
There was something in the phrasing that made Sette’s spine straighten.I like femmes.She reminded herself of that as if this woman would never be femme enough for her.Soft mouths. Long lashes. Dresses and classy jewelry.
