![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xp_colossus posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsPyotr, on Marie-Ange's recommendation, sets up a meeting with Felicia to talk about her willingness to be or provide an introduction to an art broker so Pyotr can have the business end of his art handled.
It doesn't go well.
Pyotr made sure to arrive to his appointment very early - Marie-Ange was nice enough to set up this meeting and Pyotr wanted it to go well. He needed an agent, someone to handle the tedious business angles of the art world, to free him up to be an X-Man and to paint as his heart took him. Felicia was connected into the art world, even if Angie was being obtuse as to precisely how.
But still, he'd made all the arrangements. Rented conference room in Manhattan, nice but not gaudy. Dressed well, dress shirt and slacks and shined shoes, hair styled and beard trimmed just so. He was pretty sure the lint brush had done its thing - Boris had discovered the joys of sleeping in the laundry and it would strike the wrong note to show up covered in dog hair. Sample of his portfolio, mostly pictures or scans of paintings he'd done and sold. Nothing personal in the samples - no Misha, no Yana. He sipped at his overpriced hot tea as he worked on calming his nerves, waiting for Ms Hardy to arrive to kick things off.
"Hello Mister Rasputin," Felicia said, pushing the door open just on time. The carpet dulled her heels as she crossed over, pouring herself a glass of water. "I've been told I should be interested in you. Tell me why."
"Ms Hardy." he said, standing and about to extend her his hand for a handshake but being forestalled by her question. With a mental shrug he gave that up as a bad deal and sat back down. "I find myself in need of a business partner. As you may or may not know, I am an artist. I find the business side of the art trade tedious and a distraction. Mademoiselle Colbert was kind enough to indicate you had some knowledge of the art world and a head for business. I was hoping we could put together a deal." he said with a smile.
Felicia slid into a chair across from him before making a non committal hum into her glass as she drank. Her exhale as she lowered it to the table at her elbow was audible, and she leaned back to regard him. "I do own my own business. I also appreciate art. Sometimes I acquire it, and have managed to find a broker for when I no longer wish to possess it," she said slowly, choosing her words. "But I don't take on artists. What exactly do you need, and if I can give you that connection, what do I get out of it?"
"I'm looking for a broker. Someone who can provide art to a patron willing to pay for it." he said with a slight shrug. "Someone that knows art, knows who wants it and how to get them to part with their money for it. You keep fifteen percent of the sale price as a broker's fee." he said, starting the bidding process. "If that's acceptable?" he said. "I have a few samples with me if you're unfamiliar with my work."
"That's a terrible deal," Felicia answered immediately, crossing one ankle over her knee. "A broker for an unknown is taking at least 20%, plus then my cut, and the gallery commission on top of that, which leaves you with basically nothing."
Felicia stretched, cracking her neck as she considered. "Okay. Someone believes in you. And because I am kind, I will give you the contact for a broker who has been known to take on unknowns and lay in a favour that they’ll give you 3 years with an option to re-sign and holy fuck re-sign because your shit is good but needs some actual coverage to get anything close to the money you deserve.”
Pyotr kept a smile plastered onto his face. This woman was the epitome of why he really didn't like the business world. "Well." he said, finally, after a long moment. He had visions of his art life spinning out of his control and into the hand of people like Ms Hardy who wanted to make a buck on the back of people with actual talent. "Thank you." he said stiffly, his Russian accent thickening just a bit. "I presume this broker associate of yours is comfortable dealing with a mutant?" he asked. He had no doubt Ms Hardy was comfortable dealing with mutants, being one herself, but she was proposing to hand him off to some third party.
“They are,” Felicia replied, drawing out the vowels slightly as she raised her eyebrows slowly. “They are a mutant themselves.”
"That makes things easier." he admitted, relaxing just a small bit. "So how would you structure a deal for everyone involved?" he asked. "I should not say this but I have no head for business." he confessed. "I grew up on a farm, not a ... boardhouse? No, is not right. Boardroom!" he said.
“That’s fair. I’m not nice but I’m not here to hurt you,” Felicia said with a slow blink, considering a moment before continuing. “Look. New York is a tough market. We live together, we eat together, so maybe we don’t owe each other anything, but between MA and well, all that, it doesn’t benefit me to ruin you either.”
“The broker is a good deal. They will take a cut, the gallery will take a cut, and you will be left with the remainder. As you grow, you can navigate lower cuts and higher prices. Your broker should take no more than 20%, your gallery no more than 50,” she continued.
Now he understood her comment. Things were, it would appear, looking up. "And your cut is ... gratitude to Mlle Colbert?" he asked. "Perhaps, then, when things are going well, we'll revisit the subject. And provide you adequate compensation." he said. "But for now, I'll call your man and we shall - set something up." he said with finality. Maybe it was a good thing, once in a while, to have a shark on your side. Or be friendly with Frenchwomen that knew sharks.
“My person. They have they/them pronouns,” she answered instantly, drumming her nails against her trousers. “English is hard, but for reference when you call. You’ll owe me a small favour, but it’ll go through my boss so it’s not too heinous. Probably.”
He frowned at that - not at the pronouns, that was English bullshit but simple respect and he could get behind simple respect. He felt that owing this woman a favor, or worse her boss among the spies, would lead to nothing good at all. "Thank you, but I do not want to have the string attached to spies and murderers." he said. "I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, Ms Hardy." he said stiffly as he stood to gather up his things. "Some favors come at too high a price. Art? Cash? Can do those. Favor for spy? No.”
Felicia took a breath, getting to her heels. “So am I.”
It doesn't go well.
Pyotr made sure to arrive to his appointment very early - Marie-Ange was nice enough to set up this meeting and Pyotr wanted it to go well. He needed an agent, someone to handle the tedious business angles of the art world, to free him up to be an X-Man and to paint as his heart took him. Felicia was connected into the art world, even if Angie was being obtuse as to precisely how.
But still, he'd made all the arrangements. Rented conference room in Manhattan, nice but not gaudy. Dressed well, dress shirt and slacks and shined shoes, hair styled and beard trimmed just so. He was pretty sure the lint brush had done its thing - Boris had discovered the joys of sleeping in the laundry and it would strike the wrong note to show up covered in dog hair. Sample of his portfolio, mostly pictures or scans of paintings he'd done and sold. Nothing personal in the samples - no Misha, no Yana. He sipped at his overpriced hot tea as he worked on calming his nerves, waiting for Ms Hardy to arrive to kick things off.
"Hello Mister Rasputin," Felicia said, pushing the door open just on time. The carpet dulled her heels as she crossed over, pouring herself a glass of water. "I've been told I should be interested in you. Tell me why."
"Ms Hardy." he said, standing and about to extend her his hand for a handshake but being forestalled by her question. With a mental shrug he gave that up as a bad deal and sat back down. "I find myself in need of a business partner. As you may or may not know, I am an artist. I find the business side of the art trade tedious and a distraction. Mademoiselle Colbert was kind enough to indicate you had some knowledge of the art world and a head for business. I was hoping we could put together a deal." he said with a smile.
Felicia slid into a chair across from him before making a non committal hum into her glass as she drank. Her exhale as she lowered it to the table at her elbow was audible, and she leaned back to regard him. "I do own my own business. I also appreciate art. Sometimes I acquire it, and have managed to find a broker for when I no longer wish to possess it," she said slowly, choosing her words. "But I don't take on artists. What exactly do you need, and if I can give you that connection, what do I get out of it?"
"I'm looking for a broker. Someone who can provide art to a patron willing to pay for it." he said with a slight shrug. "Someone that knows art, knows who wants it and how to get them to part with their money for it. You keep fifteen percent of the sale price as a broker's fee." he said, starting the bidding process. "If that's acceptable?" he said. "I have a few samples with me if you're unfamiliar with my work."
"That's a terrible deal," Felicia answered immediately, crossing one ankle over her knee. "A broker for an unknown is taking at least 20%, plus then my cut, and the gallery commission on top of that, which leaves you with basically nothing."
Felicia stretched, cracking her neck as she considered. "Okay. Someone believes in you. And because I am kind, I will give you the contact for a broker who has been known to take on unknowns and lay in a favour that they’ll give you 3 years with an option to re-sign and holy fuck re-sign because your shit is good but needs some actual coverage to get anything close to the money you deserve.”
Pyotr kept a smile plastered onto his face. This woman was the epitome of why he really didn't like the business world. "Well." he said, finally, after a long moment. He had visions of his art life spinning out of his control and into the hand of people like Ms Hardy who wanted to make a buck on the back of people with actual talent. "Thank you." he said stiffly, his Russian accent thickening just a bit. "I presume this broker associate of yours is comfortable dealing with a mutant?" he asked. He had no doubt Ms Hardy was comfortable dealing with mutants, being one herself, but she was proposing to hand him off to some third party.
“They are,” Felicia replied, drawing out the vowels slightly as she raised her eyebrows slowly. “They are a mutant themselves.”
"That makes things easier." he admitted, relaxing just a small bit. "So how would you structure a deal for everyone involved?" he asked. "I should not say this but I have no head for business." he confessed. "I grew up on a farm, not a ... boardhouse? No, is not right. Boardroom!" he said.
“That’s fair. I’m not nice but I’m not here to hurt you,” Felicia said with a slow blink, considering a moment before continuing. “Look. New York is a tough market. We live together, we eat together, so maybe we don’t owe each other anything, but between MA and well, all that, it doesn’t benefit me to ruin you either.”
“The broker is a good deal. They will take a cut, the gallery will take a cut, and you will be left with the remainder. As you grow, you can navigate lower cuts and higher prices. Your broker should take no more than 20%, your gallery no more than 50,” she continued.
Now he understood her comment. Things were, it would appear, looking up. "And your cut is ... gratitude to Mlle Colbert?" he asked. "Perhaps, then, when things are going well, we'll revisit the subject. And provide you adequate compensation." he said. "But for now, I'll call your man and we shall - set something up." he said with finality. Maybe it was a good thing, once in a while, to have a shark on your side. Or be friendly with Frenchwomen that knew sharks.
“My person. They have they/them pronouns,” she answered instantly, drumming her nails against her trousers. “English is hard, but for reference when you call. You’ll owe me a small favour, but it’ll go through my boss so it’s not too heinous. Probably.”
He frowned at that - not at the pronouns, that was English bullshit but simple respect and he could get behind simple respect. He felt that owing this woman a favor, or worse her boss among the spies, would lead to nothing good at all. "Thank you, but I do not want to have the string attached to spies and murderers." he said. "I'm very sorry to have wasted your time, Ms Hardy." he said stiffly as he stood to gather up his things. "Some favors come at too high a price. Art? Cash? Can do those. Favor for spy? No.”
Felicia took a breath, getting to her heels. “So am I.”
