west_end_blues | (no subject)

Who: Ronald Sandoval | Irving Braxiatel
What: Sandoval stops to drop some tasty hints of information courtesy of his boss
Where: The museum
When: After Narvin's arrival.

Ronald Sandoval always stood out a bit, which kept him from any of the discrete, covert work that he lusted after. When he became an FBI agent, that had been what he'd wanted most, to be in the field, playing one big name off the other, enjoying the power that came from compromising them.

He was never granted that ability, never allowed into the field, and it ate at him for his entire time working for those snivelling, arrogant jokes of investigators. Those were two reasons Alpha had seemed like a godsend- he maneuvered right under their noses with enviable precision, and he offered Sandoval that chance that everyone else had denied him.

Now they had come full circle- they were back in West End, and he was all to happy to help with Alpha's machinations as he entered the museum with a bright, friendly grin on his face. The right people spoken with, the right names dropped, and minutes later he was being led back to speak with a one Mr. Irving Braxiatel.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

When Sandoval arrived, Irving was crouching before a Malevich not yet on display. He was at best a man removed from the world, but there was something near-visceral in his approach to the painting, the way his fingers traced but never touched the considered work.

Sandoval's footsteps did not compel him to turn from the work he considered. "Are you familiar with Malevich's work? Before a year ago, he was unforgivably absent from the world stage, but now we at last have this Eastern gem in the Western world. Perhaps we will not have not as much out of him as one would hope, thanks to the Communists. Politics does have its mixed effects on art."

At last, Braxiatel rose and turned to greet Sandoval. Wearing a business smile, he offered a hand. "Irving Braxiatel. I don't believe we've met."

He looked up at the painting as he shook his hand. Most of the art he was familiar with was Catholic missionary art, and most of that from a distant childhood, so the majority the pieces in the museum were new to him. "I've not had the chance to learn about him, no. Perhaps we can discuss it over tea. Or at least somewhere private."

Alpha wouldn't want him to share information at random- he was hoping for a strategic strike to several different people. Braxiatel's portion was folded in his coat.

"Of course. This way?" He lead Sandoval to an office, not his own but one which he borrowed on occasion--made evident by the ornate decorations and the quality of the materials. He offered Sandoval a seat as he took his own.

He followed after, and it was only after they were in there that it occurred to him this might not be Braxiatel's usual place of business. It was clever of him, but Sandoval really didn't expect any less.

He sat, and crossed his legs primly as he pulled out an envelope in his pocket.

"I've heard that you have a number of helpful connections. It's been very beneficial to the growth of your gallery. Some of these connections might be interested in knowing some of the risks to their safety." He laid the envelope down, and inside were several FBI files. One of them was of a suspicious case in New York, the list of leading suspects in a murder and details pointing to one potential lovely lounge singer.

Another, deeper in, would have been lost among the other secret operatives if a childhood name wasn't buried under a more familiar one. Gary Knight had originally been a Gaheris Rhade, and his family had oh so conveniently departed the Austria-Hungary Empire prior to World War I.

"Consider it an exchange of information, really. I would like to know where to find a particular painting on the behalf of my employer." A painting seemed like suspiciously small compensation for this sort of information.

It was terribly suspicious. It was also terribly interesting. The first thought that occurred to Braxiatel is that if the skeletons of others had been dug up, his own may not be safe. He would need to prepare for that.

As it was, that would be taken care of in time. "A painting? I can't promise that I'll be of any help, but of course I would try for no cost whatsoever. I am always happy to help a fellow collector."

Sandoval had not said that his employer was a collector, but that was irrelevant. Whatever art's significance to him, he doubtless had a habit of a certain kind of collection.

"Explosion, by George Grosz." Alpha wanted the painting but more in a casual regard- it was a painting he would like and care for, but he wanted all of the things that the man that owned it possessed. And Sandoval made it a point to be, at the very least, thoroughly helpful.

"With the war having passed, I was wondering how the sale of themed art was fairing?" He folded his arms and tapped his lower lip, giving the office-that-wasn't-Braxiatel's another glance around. He'd not thought of Alpha as much of a collector, but he was in his own way. Very much, now that Braxiatel had made the observation, and it was sticking in his mind.

"I'll look into it." Braxiatel might or might not have known the owner off-hand, but that wasn't important. There were a couple things he had to look into first. "Themed art is doing well enough. People tend to like making patterns, even as they hold a world of fragments. Particularly then, in fact." He considered Sandoval himself. "Looking for something for you own collection?"

He doubted it. But Braxiatel knew that even those who spoke on behalf of employers had wills of their own. It was invariably worthwhile to get some measure of them.

"I'm woefully inexperienced in the world of art." He pulls a very old fobwatch from his pocket to check the time, something generational. Wrist watches were the contemporary thing, but Sandoval's was old and well loved. He closed it and returned it to his waistcoat.

"My parents were whalers, so I have a bit of scrimshaw. A piece here and there."

Yes, like all people well under command, much of his free will was taken. Freely offered, at that. But obviously some of it he desperately clung to. Relics from the past, familiar things that someone far from home would want to keep with them

The watch was interesting. So was that detail. And Braxiatel's curiosity was not that of a calculating politician but of a curious collector, one who appreciated all artefacts of human creativity and ingenuity. "It is a medium I've often hoped for a greater acquaintance with. It's a shame the medium is so fragile. If you ever have the desire, it would be my pleasure to see what examples you have."