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The gallery was definitely higher class than he was.[break][break]

For one, it was nestled comfortably in the classy section of Slateport's upper district. All sunlit and refine as the sun slanted through the tall front windows. Tailored with sleek minimalism to put forward the featured works on display. It was the mood, the vibe, or whatever the hell that meant. To Lam it was a lot of white walls monochromatic, rectangular furniture.[break][break]

There was a show opening coming up and Lam had spent the better part of the day following his boss' whims. Which had involved moving a lot of tall, oversized pieces in cumbersome frames as their indecision kicked in. He could have helped Lam since he was the one changing his mind so frequently about the location of the work, but no. Of course not.[break][break]

Lam had tried suggesting that maybe they should contact the artist and get their input, but no, that just wouldn't do either. And why couldn't Lam provide some eye for arrangement? What was he getting this paid internship for, anyway?[break][break]

Despite his laidback demeanor, Lam had to stuff down the annoyance. Of course he'd tried to make suggestions. They were just the ones that the snobby little man with his designer frame glasses didn't want to hear. Lam's ideas weren't whimsical enough. Heaven forbid a painter be practical.[break][break]

Lam was decidedly not upper district material. Honestly, it was a wonder he'd even landed this job. Correction, paid internship. And it was days like these that made him question why he even wanted to own a gallery of his own. It'd be different when he was the one in charge, though.[break][break]

For starters, he wouldn't treat his interns or staff like dirt. Or make them return soy latte orders four times over because there wasn't enough sugar syrup added. He was pretty sure the coffee place a block down hated his guts now. No matter how much he smiled at them apologetically or attempted to commiserate.[break][break]

Whatever. Whatever. It was for the experience. Something he repeated in his mind like a mantra when the aforementioned boss swept out the door two hours earlier than usual with the insistence that he could not miss his old classmate's exhibition and needed to be there several hours early. It would simply be a social faux pas. Aka he wanted to make sure he got to go to the pre-game party.[break][break]

Even if that meant he was left to run the public access area on his own, Lam didn't complain all that much. If he was going to ditch, that meant Lam would spend the time on his own work. As long as he locked up the doors at close, and then set the alarms when he left, it’d be fine.[break][break]

And just like that, he lost track of the time.[break][break]

Headphones snug over his ears, Lam spent the night perched in front of the canvas in one of the rooms off to the side of the main gallery. Oblivious and lost in his own world until his back felt stiff and his fingers began to cramp around the brush. That and his stomach was finally rumbling with enough force that he couldn’t ignore. Slipping off the stool, he stretched as he observed the large canvas.[break][break]

He frowned, unhappy with it, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he already knew it wouldn’t earn him a wall for presentation, no matter how good it was.[break][break]

Tossing the brush in a water cup, he began to gather his things and wash up. He had to be there tomorrow too, after all.

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