John the Baptist was the subject of many a Caravaggio work; Baroque, a style of painting that thrived off of extravagant detail, off of movement of the forms, off of the stark contrast between light and dark and its distinct realism. Napoleon had hoarded one piece of the series in particular, hidden it among his collection of prized paintings and it had only now seen the light of day, peeled free of its protective wrapping and presented to a man who had long since been aware of Solo’s dreadful little habit of theft.
Fortunate, of course, that Starks’ morals weren’t quite so aligned with that of those around him, and in that regard Solo had the distinct feeling that he might be rather appreciative of a Caravaggio in his possession, brought to him solely out of gratitude. Gratitude, as though it weren’t far more profound than that; what had blossomed between them was distinct, by now, but Napoleon hadn’t made an effort to pick it apart as he made a grand gesture with a wave of his hand toward the work in question, presenting it proudly, shamelessly.
❝ --- I thought you might appreciate it. ❞
@expertviolence
