"My poor face! My lovely, Roman profile! Whatever have I done to deserve this, my sisters?! How can the Gods be so cruel to punish me so? How will I ever inspire love again? MY FAAAAAAAAAAAAACE!" Erato wailed from the high arch of the massive double door, while her sisters joined in, either with whines,  comforting words or disinterest looks.

"Tais-toi!" Éloi's voice suddenly interrupted the nine statues, that immediately fell into complete silence. "If you do not cease your wailing and whining this instant I will have you all removed, comprenez-vous?" he said irate as he took his hand to his temples, rubbing soothing circles, while walking from one end of the stairs to the other.

"But, Monsieur, how could you possibly be so insensitive?" Erato said choking on invisible tears. "It is my nose, sir, my nose! It is gone! Oh, Venus herself is weeping for my fate—" the muse continued as she started wailing again.

"Cease your blasphemous mouth, Erato. Do not talk of the Gods, as if they would deem you worthy of their pity" Polyhymnia said disapprovingly shaking her head, the veil making noises of tapping stone where it touched the arch.

"How about you both stop now, dear sisters, our kind Monsieur is obviously in no mood for your theatrics or chatter" Clio, the ever most sensible one said without once taking her eyes off of her parchment. Nobody knew what she was reading there, because the parchment was empty. Crazy muses...

"How about you nine menaces all cease your prattling. Monsieur Faulkner is on his way, and this entire tragedy—" he raised his eyes to look disapprovingly at Melpomene, who has happily waving her sad-faced mask at him, and Éloi gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes "shall be over" he added with a grunt.

And before long he heard the sound of steps on the stairs and he turned with obvious relief on his face to see Leon Faulker. "Oh thank Merlin" he said as he grabbed for his hand to shake it gently. "It has been atrocious, all day, you can't possibly understand how much I appreciate you coming on such shot notice. It has been complete and utter—"

"Oh, my... Oh my, my. Sisters, look at this positively entrancing man. Those hands, those lips, ah, that nose—my poor nose!!!" Erato finally remembered.

"I was wondering how long it will take her to remember" Thalia giggled as she held her laughing mask to her chest.

Urania gave them all a disapproving look and jabbed her stone compass at the even stonier Melpomene. "This is all your fault, sister. You and your dramatics. You've always been such a bad influence on her" she said with a huff.

Melpomene shrieked as if she could actually feel the needle of the compass and instantly started crying. "My own sister, how can you possibly do this to me? I am your own stone and blood!" the muse of Tragedy wailed.

"—Hell. It's been Hell" Éloi said over the chattering of the statues, frozen in place staring at the statues, Monsieur Faulkner's hand still in his. "I must've been out of my mind, when I commissioned them" he said turning to watch the young man with a haunted look on his face. "Sacre bleu" he added as if in a daze.

When he’d received the missive, Leon had been more than happy to go in – making the muses had been one of the more enjoyable (and lucrative) things he’d done, and while he didn’t attend regularly, it was nice to go to Le Masque when he felt he could justify the expense. Éloi was onto something when he decreed that everyone in attendance had to be masked; it made everything seem slightly more alluring, imperfections literally hidden from view.

Although he’d first entered the building unmasked, he hadn’t needed to do so recently, and seeing the building under brighter lighting, without masses of well-dressed people, was an odd experience, making his step slightly hesitant as he climbed up the stairs to greet Éloi, cheeks dimpling at the enthusiasm his arrival was met with, regardless of why he was so happy to see him.

Listening for a moment, or attempting to, it became immediately clear why he’d been sent for.

“Hush,” he ordered the muses, voice carrying the assured authority of the person responsible for the statues’ creation. Smiling in slight embarrassment at the sudden silence, he gently extracted his hand from the younger man’s palm, patting his shoulder in what was hopefully a reassuring rather than creepy gesture, “I’m sorry to hear that.” He could see that they were a handful, that was to be expected, but for Éloi to be going to such extremes they must have been behaving in a truly awful fashion. If how they’d been since his arrival was anything to go by, Leon would probably have been threatening action with a hammer by now.

“Now we’ve got some quiet, what exactly is the problem?” he asked, having been unable to decipher much from the cacophony of noise that the muses had been making before he’d ordered them to be silent. He would have offered Éloi a drink, were he not at Éloi’s establishment, but as it was, it seemed rude to suggest it. “More importantly, what would you like me to do?”

For just a second, Éloi was actually saddened at hearing the deafening silence of the Muses, but it was just a second. Then he scowled remembering the pests and finally exhaled in relief. And he couldn't help but let a sly smile tug at the corner of his lips and an eyebrow to raise in surprise. Authority was certainly very becoming on the intriguing Monsieur Faulkner. Éloi was of the opinion that Leon was a precious jewel in need of a bit of polishing. It took a few meetings for Éloi to realize that the brunette was actually quite handsome and not at all the cute, skinny boy he'd first passed him as. He was no Adonis, that was certain but he was lean, fit and probably all hard muscle. Working with rock, certainly wasn't an easy task. He had boyish features, with a perky nose and bright brown—no, not brown, but almost amber eyes and a mouth that should probably be illegal. However, the last time he was called to fix one of the office sculptures, Éloi couldn't help but notice his hands... which had proven a very unwelcome distraction as he was supposed to be actually working at the time. Monsieur Faulkner's hands were a work of art in their own right.

And he was so tactile... Éloi had a vague impression the man had no idea of the sort of reactions his actions caused. Which only made it all the more infuriating and delicious at the same time. He felt the brunette's hand pat his shoulder, and just like that, the hairs on his hand were upright and he might've closed his eyes just a fraction. Just a fraction.

The young Desrosiers was suddenly aware of the other man talking and, reluctantly, he let his observations come to an end and he replaced his dazed smile with one more suitable for a business meeting. “More importantly, what would you like me to do?” But, well, who could keep a business face with such a question?

Éloi chuckled as he crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow at Mister Faulker. "Oh, there's plenty I'd like you to do, chéri.." he teased as he gave him a predatory look from head to toe, before he laughed softly. He schooled his face into a polite smile before he turned around to face the entryway. "Come now, Monsieur. We can discuss the atrocities of these—horreurs" he said as he raised his head to give the nine pests a glare "over a drink. I will not presume to offer you coffee, as I am ashamed to say ours pales in comparison to Alohomocha's, but, surely Blaise can mix a cocktail to your liking."

There was no mistaking that tone of voice, and Leon’s smile, before easily confident, tightened a little in uncertainty. It was flattering to have such interest expressed, yeah, but it also put him in a really awkward position because he was supposed to be here to fix a statue. Still, the expression passed quickly, leaving the sculptor uncertain of whether he’d imagined the moment or not.

“Sure,” he smiled, “That sounds great.” He wasn’t sure that drinking at midday, especially while he was supposed to be working, was a good idea, but Éloi didn’t seem concerned about it and he wasn’t about to turn down a free drink. If he had to, he could just request that his drink was non-alcoholic, which was sure to get a response from the other man – an amusing one, hopefully. Leon needed something to make him laugh at the moment, the muses were already beginning to mutter amongst themselves and he’d be spending a while in their company. He could only do so much to get them to behave, short of shutting them down.

Somehow, for all of his complaints, Leon didn’t think Éloi would be amenable to the suggestion.

Letting the club’s owner lead the way, Leon trailed after him, smiling in a vaguely approving fashion at the décor. It seemed in fitting with the tone at Le Masque that come daybreak, everything would look dull, cracks exposed and colours faded, but while the club certainly wasn’t at its full splendour it didn’t have the dramatic transformation implied by phrases like sequins and sawdust, although that was actually the circus. Probably why it didn't apply.

When they were through to the bar and perched on the stools, Leon turned reluctantly to business, “I don’t remember them being that intolerable,” he admitted, sounding vaguely guilty. “Why’d you call?”

Gesturing for Blaise, the head bartender, at the end of the bar, Éloi eventually turned to face the man. "Well" he sighed deeply "some unfortunate soul made quite a bit of a scene last night and when he was asked to leave the premises, I'm afraid he seems to have made... quite an exit for himself. Erato lost her nose in the debacle" he continued, extracting a bit of stone from his pocket and placing it on the bar "while her sisters have suffered minor cracks."

"It's been like this for a while. They're entertaining if you're only visiting once, but for us, the ones that are here daily" he chuckled "it gets a bit tiring. Even with our love of theatrics" he continued, smiling darkly. "I suppose they grew with the establishment, personality-wise" he said absentmindedly and shrugged his shoulders. As the bartender finally made his appearance, Éloi turned to him and clasped his hands together, "Blaise, mon ami, why don't you surprise us with some cocktails, hmm?"

"So, Mister Faulkner, will you be a hero to our muses? We couldn't possibly leave them suffering so..." Éloi winked amused and grabbed his glass, raising it towards Leon Faulkner.

Leon nodded, the story was to be expected, and although stone was strong, small parts like noses could be broken off. He’d have to do something to strengthen the join when he’d finished, or it would just happen again, and while that would be more work for him, it wouldn’t reflect well on his craftsmanship. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he muttered, “Normally I make them less… outgoing, but since these are muses, they all ended up quite talkative.” It was embarrassing, to have underperformed like that, and would require serious re-working, but Leon was sure that given enough time, and probably some sleepless nights, he would be able to sort it out.

“I can make them quieter, if you want,” he offered, eager to fix his mistakes.

Crap. Alcohol at noon it was, then, and Leon was supposed to be working. “Uh, can you make mine non-alcoholic?” he asked quickly, feeling oddly embarrassed by it. There was nothing that should make him guilty about not wanting to drink while he was working, but Eloi was so suave and unconcerned about it that it made him feel stupid for caring. So what, he wasn’t the one who had to fix a bunch of temperamental statues.

He grinned at the question, amused by the way it had been phrased – he was nothing so dramatic as that – accepting his glass with a quick, “Thanks.” He took a sip, smile growing in unexpected appreciation – not that he’d thought he wouldn’t like it, but it was nicer than he’d expected. “I can fix her nose, that’s not difficult – I still have the original sketches somewhere at home – but do you want me to do something to make them less abrasive?”
If only sanding them down would have the desired effect, his life would be infinitely simpler. “It might take a while, but I could do them one at a time so that they wouldn’t be missed. I’m sorry that they’ve been a bother.”

"No need to apologize, Monsieur Faulkner" he responded, with a charming smile. "We've learned to ignore them, and most of us hardly have any lasting business outside the doors, to be truly bothered by them" he reassured the man, with a dramatic gesture, hand placed over his heart. "That won't be necessary, I assure you. Please" he insisted, this time rather amused at the sculptor's eagerness. "They're part of Le Masque now, and they sure do make a lasting impression on newcomers" he added with a little chuckle, eyebrows raised in honest amusement.

Blaise paused his pouring and raised his eyes to watch the proprietor's guest with an amused smirk, before nodding once slowly. "Sure, a virgin cocktail coming right up" the bartender said with a little snort and a curious glance towards his equally amused employer. Éloi wheezed slightly, quickly turning his smile into a polite one as he watched Leon with wide innocent eyes. "A Rehydrator for the gentleman" Blaise said as he placed a coupe glass in front of the kid and gave him a little wink at his thanks. "And a Sazerac for you, boss" the New Yorker continued with a blinding grin, placing the Old Fashioned glass in front of the blond.

"Really, Leon" Éloi said in an exasperated, but fond tone. "I'm sorry if my theatrical exaggerations have caused you such worry, but they are not as big an issue as I am making them to be. I simply happen to have a short fuse, and they sure do know exactly what buttons to push" he laughed heartily, throwing his head back. "Although–" he paused suddenly serious and a little pensive "there is the matter of David in the men's room." Éloi frowned and shook his head muttering something in French. "There's been complaints that he's being a little too–ah, straightforward" he offered cryptically with a polite tight smile.

"Also, there has been a matter that I've been meaning to discuss with you for some time now" he opened - business face on, back straight, legs crossed and an imposing sort of air about him. "My wiser and more practical cousin has brought to my attention that I'd be a fool to let a talent such as yourself go to waste or slip through my fingers" he said, all honey and charming smiles. Bless Arianne and the few moments she blessed him with her genius. "So, I would like to propose you my patronage" he finally drawled, with a positively blinding grin.

Leon smiled at that, somewhat relieved that the statues’ gabbiness wasn’t a problem, if only for the sake of his professional pride.

“Oh shit,” Leon muttered, because really? Why was it that everything that he’d made for Le Masque ended up crazy? It was tempting to blame the atmosphere of the place, that somehow the revelry and intoxicating atmosphere had bled into them, making them louder, more distinct – in unpleasant ways. Tempting though that was, he knew that but it was his fault, although there was no way he could have predicted David. The Muses, possibly, but they were supposed to have big personalities – just not ones that were so obnoxious. Oops.

With David, the best thing to do would be to talk to him. He could threaten to re-animate him if necessary, but that was a hassle, and not worth it if a conversation would do the job. Plus, he hated doing it, because it was like… ripping the canvas out of a frame, really, so that you could put in a nicer picture – although perhaps the other way round would be more accurate. Though that was likely to be a stopgap method, in Leon’s admittedly limited experience statues weren’t likely to drop behavioural trends just because of a strong word or two. More work, then – but he could afford to swap a shift at Alohomocha, and it wasn’t like he was rolling in offers for work anyway.

The thought was stopped in its tracks when Eloi next spoke, and Leon stared at him in shock, convinced he’d heard wrong. Despite all of the failings of his work – which, as they had literally just been going over, were numerous – Eloi was offering him more work? And – hell, what did patronage even involve? He knew about the basic principle, which was that he would have enough money to never need to buy 16p tins of spaghetti hoops, but then it got all technical and contractual.

He took a sip of his drink to stall. “That’s very flattering,” he started, because it was, but, “what would that… involve?”

At the little expletive, Éloi snorted softly under his breath. He could understand how the statues would undergo a mimesis process, being endowed with a personality and having some sort of learning curve... He supposed it shouldn't have come as such a surprise that most of the creations ended up as they did. It was still rather irritating, however. And while he may excuse the muses, Davis was getting him quite some complaints. Éloi personally was rather amused, but he did not use the clients bathroom.

The young proprietor chuckled darkly at Leon's curious question, shaking hid head for a second before taking another sip of his drink. "Well, to start with you'll be receiving financial aid in the form of a monthly stipend to ensure that you have all the materials necessary for developing your craft. There will be a contract to ensure that all parties are satisfied and you hold to your end of the bargain by creating a minimum number of pieces in a set time.

There will be occasions when I will be commissioning artwork from you, either for my own personal use or to be used as a gift. It will be my duty to ensure that your name is propagated through the wizarding art world, by ensuring your presence and your artwork at various high-publicity events, as well as providing you with the means of exposing your art to the world at large through exhibits and vernissages" he said in his charming business tone, offering blind smiles at this point or the other.

"Your only responsibility will be to make sure that you let your creative genius bloom under my sponsorship" he ended with a little wink. "And, of course, if I deem your presence at some event or the other might benefit your career, you must ensure that you attend and be ready to bear the dull, unimaginative burden of socializing with the wretched bourgeoisie" he added with a scowl and a roll of his eyes. "They know absolutely nothing of beauty and the arts but adore to pretend they do."

He emptied his Sazerac in one go and turned to stare intensely at Leon. "Well, Leon? Shall I be calling you Maestro anytime soon?"