Throughout the reverberating sounds of the hall, the sounds of children laughing and teachers informing, she felt the cough of attention directed at her. “Forgive me m'am.” Came the voice calling her gaze away from Dederick and his daughter, who were just now departing for the Egyptian exhibition. She spun on heel coming to bring her sights upon the young man stood before her. As he spoke, she took in his appearance, how he spoke, how fast he spoke, how articulate he was, how he held himself. She caught the excitement and the apprehension of the boy. She drank it in and watched him carefully, as she did with all people whom she had the pleasure (or displeasure) of acquainting herself with for the first time.

Yannick Bakker, was his name and an artist he claimed himself to be. [i]Modest is the boy,[/i] she thought, [i]if not a little fearful – a little confidence never harmed anyone.[/i] She had been in this situation many times, the young artist with the glean in their eye, both hopeful and terrified. For here they stood, like many before young Yannick Bakker, offering their heart and their passion, out towards her in the hopes that she will protect it forever. It was a cruel game, but a game, all the less, that she utterly enjoyed.

And now it was Heer Bakker's turn.

“Whilst I did not know the name, Yannick Bakker before, I certainly do now. And you are correct, I am indeed Madam de Sauveterre.” She said, finally indulging him as she took his hand and flashed a smile that revealed the tips of her fangs. It made for good measure to gather how a human would react to her being vampire, plus, it usually put the more roguish ones in their place. 

“Usually, most artists have to earn some communal recognition that I may notice them for myself and go to them directly to offer to my patronage or, if the they feel brave, book an appointment months in advance, toil away for several hours, long into the late night and early morning. To then only present their work to me, and only me, to judge if they are worthy. You have done neither,” she stopped, allowing it to sink in somewhat for the young Yannick, before carrying on. “However, you've shown some initiative to deciding to just simply approach me without any of your credentials to show. As a result you've leave me rather bemused and yet curious, so, let us talk. So tell me, Heer Yannick, what is your movement? Your art style?” She asked, before deciding to go back on her question. “Better yet, show me, take me to the gallery that you believe resembles your work or whatever inspires you if do not like to confine your work into a movement, plus, we can talk somewhere a little more quiet. Children may be our future but, this time now is ours.”