It had been one of the scarce days that Yannick allowed himself to take a break from painting. After all, he had almost finished the small landscape that Mevrouw van Beusenkom had requested and he truly needed some inspiration for his next personal work. From time to time he would take his bicycle from the small shed (which he shared with the four others residents of the student house that Yannick called home) and make a long cycling tour through Amsterdam and its surroundings. But this day he felt that he'd find more inspiration in the work of those who had preceded him. So after locking the door to his two-room apartment, he shared the bathroom and kitchen with the others, he slowly walked down the steep old stairs and outside towards the shed. But before he had the chance to open the door, a blonde head appeared outside the front door. 

"Hey, Yannick. Where 'ya going?" Ralph was a tall young law student, originally from Lelystad and a few years older than Yannick. He wasn't ugly and often boasted that he was achieving to become what was called 'the eternal student' and to Yannick it seemed like his main interests were drinking beer, soccer, beer, girls oh and let's not forget about beer.

Trying his best not to sigh out loud in annoyance, Yannick slowly turned his head towards the young man and answered. 

"I'm going to visit The Voltaire. You can join me if you want to. But I s'pose you are too hung over for that, aren't you?"

"I'd almost feel insulted by that if I didn't love you so bloody much Yan. And if you weren't so right of course." He smiled sheepishly and made a failed attempt at fixing his bed hair. Yannick granted him his famous almost-but-actually-not-a-smile before he turned around to open the shed and take out his bike.

"Hey, but you are coming tonight, aren't you? You know, the party, around midnight? I did invite you didn't I? You should come Yan, it'll be fun. Bring a girl along and it'll be even more fun. Hey. Don't you just leave without saying anything. Turn that bike around right now you oaf!"

Yannick replied with a vague 'maybe' and a wave of his arm as he cycled to the front of the alley. If he had worn shoes instead of socks and if the tiles hadn't been damp due to last night's rain, Ralph most likely would have followed and stopped him before Yannick would have the time to open the locked gate in the front of the alley. Fortunately for Yannick, Ralph ceased his eternal attempt to invite him to his parties due to the circumstances, for now.
-----------------------
Thus, after a short ride, Yannick found himself, for the first time since he had moved to Amsterdam, walking the hallways of The Voltaire. It was a remarkable building, made even more remarkable by the great exhibition of art of all times which had been gathered and displayed within its walls. It was quite busy inside. Students hurried to and from the enormous library, elderly couples were slowly walking from Monet to Mondriaan and an exhibition on the Chinese culture. Most prominent represented were the large groups of Asian tourists and school kids who all seemed to have a school trip today.

Yannick himself preferred the relatively small collection of "Oude Meesters" as they were often called. Rembrandt van Rijn, Frans Hals, Johannes Vermeer, Jacob van Ruisdael and so many more. However, the multiple classes who seemed to be having a school trip today made it impossible to find the peace and rest he needed to focus on the Meesters' works. Trying to avoid the bands of yelling children, he ended up walking into the part where the more modern art was exhibited. These paintings and sculptures weren't half as inspiring as the "Oude Meesters", but they had to do for now. 

As he was strolling through the halls, occasionally looking at some art, he heard some voices coming from a room not too far away from him. These weren't the voices of little kids and thus he decided to at least partially yield to his curiosity. Walking further, the voices became distinguishable and Yannick managed to hear part of their conversation. 

[i]“Dederick; all I desire is a cordial relationships with all my partners within the project. If you are at all wary of me, that is fine, I understand that some people have not yet come to terms with my kind, it's understandable." [/i] 'My kind'... the female voice belonged to a vampire, Yannick realized with shock. But well, in Amsterdam it wasn't as strange to meet vampires as it was in the north. [i]“" We have known each other for several years now, you should not feel the need to step around on egg shells.”

“Madame de Sauveterre, I didn't mean to offend you.” [/i] Madame de Sauveterre! Yannick gasped softly. She was practically the owner of The Volaire and a great patron of the arts. If possible, he'd love to have a small conversation with her. 

[i]“ “And you haven't – in fact, I value your honesty.” [/i] Yannick pretended to carefully examine a piece of art close to the room where the conversation was held. The painting seemed to be made by a child. He'd never understand why people would call this art, but the use of colours was truly interesting. [i]“ “Heer Dederick, I am not a threat, you have nothing to fear.” ... “Maybe you should take Sebile back to the Egyptian exhibit, I understand that she was too scared to go look at the mummy. Maybe her father could protect her better than I?” [/i] 
[i]“ “Of course, Madame de Sauveterre. Thank you for engaging with my daughter, it was very kind of you.” [/i] 
[i]“ “It was my utmost pleasure, and please, call me Jennifer.” [/i] 

After the man had left, apparently to entertain his daughter, Yannick coughed curtly to attacked Madam de Sauveterre's attention. He walked into the larger room to show himself and he took off his cap as a small sign of respect.

"Forgive me m'am, but I happened to overhear a small part of your conversation. You're Madam de Sauveterre if I'm not mistaken?" He looked at her with hope gleaming in his eyes and a shy smile on his lips. If he managed to convince her to patronize him, he'd have a chance to climb higher in the world of the arts and make a name for himself. "My name is Yannick Bakker and I'm an artist myself. Although I doubt someone like you would have heard of me." He extended his hand to shake hers, suddenly a bit insecure. Did vampires even shake hands?