1964-08-25 - A Meeting at the MET
Summary: In which Max and Nick meet at the MET.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
maximus nick 

The halls of the museum are starting to clear as it gets later into the evening, but there are still those who stroll through the exhibits, taking them in. One such individual is Nick. His attention is currently captured by the white marble sculpture of a sarcophagus, the intricate folds of a shroud draped over a beautiful woman who looks as though she'd merely slipped off into sleep. The realism of the pattern of blossoms laid around the foot of the casket-like structure is impressive. Taking slow, even steps, he makes a circle. There are other sculptures within the room as well, from busts and full figures to small figurines, each one in its own glass case to allow viewing, though this one is large enough that a velvet rope merely surrounds it.

"You know…I've heard that a hundred years ago, they used to grind up these mummies and /eat them/…as an aphrodesiac." purrs a voice as Maximus steps up beside Nick, viewing the sarcophogus. It, honestly, totally sounds like a cheesy line, but he doesn't look ashamed by that at all. In fact, he exudes a perfect confidence as he stares down Nick, with a flash of an over-broad smile and a twinkle in blue eyes.

Nick cants his head just a bit to the side as his eyes remain on the sculpture in front of him, considering those words and then asks, "How? Seems dusty. Did they mix it with something? Bake it into the food? Create some sort of mummy cocktail?" The possibilities seem to capture his attention for a moment. He is dressed currently in a well-fitted suit, tie, even his hair despite its tendency towards unruliness seems to have at least had a comb run through it to attend the museum. He turns from where he was looking and comes face to face with.. Maximus. He'd seen him from afar in Attilan, certainly, having grown up there, but had never been anywhere near the man. "Good evening," he says with a respectful dip of his head. Royalty, after all.

Maximus is definitely curious over the sudden deference, for surely if Nick was just a…cog in the machine…a peasant, then he never would have known him, even if the reverse is true. He cants his head, black curls brushing his cheeks as his gaze rakes over the other man from head to toe. "I have no idea. The entire concept is flawed. Have we met?"

Nick would likely be totally unknown to Maximus, just another of the people, an artist, an architect, with skilled work certainly, but in the grand scheme of things, likely entirely unnoticed. But how could he not know one of the royal family? Impossible. "Well, I'm certain that there are far more pleasant ways to get in the mood; but I am learning that people have all manner of strange ideas when it comes to the topic." He glances once more back at the sarcophagus and then says to Maximus, "No, not personally. But I'm familiar with your family, of course."

Maximus pulls himself up straight, on his guard, suddenly. "Are you one of my people? Are you a traitor or have you been sent here?" His chin lifts as he challenges and tries to appear taller. All in all, he's pretty average height, but he does know how to work it.

Nick is tall just by virtue of sheer inches, but with a little bit of distance between them, it's not as evident as it might be up close. When Maximus seems to go on guard, he replies with all honesty, "Sent, by my father, at my request, to the displeasure of my mother, who is against the idea." Pale blue eyes search Max's face, his expression, waiting without advancing nor backing away, for whatever response the man might have to that.

Maximus takes a step closer to Nick and lowers his voice, "Is your father on the council? What is your /purpose/ here?" The royal interrogates with a sense of entitlement to be asking the questions.

Nick remains exactly where he stands when Maximus approaches, gaze following him as he gets closer. There's a slight shake of his head. His father is not on the Council. "My purpose is to learn, to see this world and what is in it, to meet its people and walk among them for a while. To see some of the rest of this planet, perhaps gain some inspiration for my art, for my architecture."

"MMm. Very well. That doesn't sound like a threat to Attilan. So." Maximus seems to accept the other man, not too hung up on the rules. "I am Maximus Boltagon. Who are you?" He glances at the statue, eyes it up and down, and doesn't seem impressed.

"I have no interest in being a threat to anyone in particular unless they decide to give me cause, first," Nick says with a slight spread of his hands to the side, as though to indicate that he'd quite prefer to tend his own business than meddle in anyone else's. "Nikandros Aeterne," he introduces himself, using his proper and full name.

Maximus suddenly reaches out to try and touch the side of Nick's face. He leans in some. His brows knit. "I remember now. Aeterne. Yesssss. Your mother. She was the reasonable one. Your father was one of those…proponents of leaving, while I built walls. Mmmm. I suppose he thinks now, he's won. But, you will see soon enough, Nikandros, how many threats abound. You will come to my way of thinking before long."

When Maximus reaches out to touch him, there's a moment where Nick tenses, but he doesn't move away, instead, studying Max's expression closely, meeting those eyes. "Will I?" he wonders, not seeming to have come to an opinion one way or another. "Perhaps. I suppose once I see, I will know." It's certainly not a denial, instead an acceptance that it may very well be one of many possible outcomes.

Maximus pulls his hand away and grins faintly. "I have a new apartment. You should come see it sometime. And right now, we who are in the world..are keeping in contact. Even the former exiles. Now that I know you are here, I insist that you meet the rest."

"Do you? Then I will," Nick says. "It seems that I am about to lose the place that I was staying, so I'll need to acquire one, myself, sooner rather than later. Do you have any recommendations?" Then he nods his head in agreement and says, "I would very much like to meet the others, whoever else is out here, exploring. I'd be interested to hear about their experiences."

Maximus shakes his head and folds his hands behind his back. "I only look for high rent sort of establishments. Unless you have a great deal of money….I'm afraid I would have no idea. However, I will give you my address…" He grabs up one of those brochures describing the art on this floor, and one of those tiny golf pencils to write it down.

There's a small quirk of Nick's lips, but he nods and says, "Of course. That would stand to reason," as though he should have assumed as much. Though he does accept the brochure with the address on it, folding it neatly and tucking it away into his jacket pocket where it won't get lost. "I will be certain to come and see it. And perhaps, sometime, once I've created some art of my own in this city — you might favor me with coming to see it."

Maximus bows his head. "Yes…I will see your art. As long as you can stomach my opinion of it." He grins with arrogance and then turns to head out of the museum.

A little smile crosses Nick's lips and he says, "I suppose we'll see about that, as well." He watches Maximus depart without moving from where he'd stood through the entire encounter, hands slipping into his pockets. Only when Max disappears from sight, does he turn back toward the sculptures, and continues his stroll among them.

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