Sun had had a question. He was absolutely sure he’d had a question and that it was a really good one. It was probably something to do with the painting he was stood in front of, or the sculpture he’d just wandered away from. It had to have been good, because Sun was adamant that he would never have gotten himself to ask for help for something trivial, but when the curator was suddenly stood there in front of him, looking as clean and smart and attractive as anything Sun had ever seen (and he’d seen a lot in his line of work), all thought well and truly left him. He probably stared for too long - was it a second? Ten? Thirty? A whole minute? - but somehow, somewhere, a single braincell kicked back into gear.
“H-Hi. I… Um… I don’t-” Apparently not quite into gear enough. “Sorry, let me, um, try again-…. Help?” Help. Help? Was it too late to run right on out of there?
Ah it was really a good thing that he had that ‘other’ job, and he was doubly sure in moments like this. Because when an honest to god adorable young man walked in and wanted to ask him things about art it was one thing. It was entirely something else when said cute boy seemed to completely space out in the cutest string of blinks and blank stares. He was tall, big, innocent, tired eyes, the poutiest lips, good god. For a moment, all the curator could think about was how soft the press of the stranger’s lips would be. But that was another him, for another setting entirely. For now, he could get excited about art displays. And so a soft chuckle, gentle and low, left him at the meager reply and a small nod followed, hands clasping behind his back.
“Yes, I certainly hope I can in some way. It is part of my job afterall, one of the most enjoyable to say the least. So then,” The curator nodded towards the realistic painting of the dancing woman with a tilted head, “Was this the piece that sparked your interest? If you’re uncertain, I would also be more than happy to give you a small little tour of this exhibit”
