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A small building tucked away in the downtown area's aesthetic area. It's constantly open for showcasing different artists.

As soon as Sandy stepped inside, he could feel his heart begin to swell. A young woman with spiky pink hair and a nose ring handed him a program, with one of Sandy's rare paintings as the cover. He looked through it, reading the small makeshift biography his manager wrote for events, meaning this was sanctioned by his manager. He couldn't imagine anyone talking that monster into allowing his pieces to be in a museum where anyone could see them, but Jet had done the impossible.
He looked around, stepped away from the banker to come closer to a small sculpture he hadn't seen in years. "This was the first one I ever sold," he said quietly, tears welling up in his eyes. "Every tiem I tried to find it, I hit a dead end. The owner said he lost in a poker game in Monaco. Where'd you find it?" He stopped himself from touching it, looking over to yet another early piece. He looked at the display, pausing in the middle before turning to Jet. "You did this?" he whispered, trying hard not to burst into tears.

Softened eyes gazed up at Jet, a tear rolling down his cheek. No one had ever done anything like this for him before. Not even her. He wasn't wholly sure how to react, outside from crying like an idiot, and he couldn't help from crying. He was so touched by the action of the banker, he felt something he hadn't felt in a very long time: his heartstrings being plucked. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew he was starting to feel something he couldn't stop or deny towards the banker, and he didn't want to stop it.
Sandy wrapped his arms around the banker's neck and pulled him into a sweet kiss. His hands moved slowly downwards to Jet's shoulders, then to his upper arms, and he pulled away with a smile on his face. "Tonight's on me," he said quietly, then leaned back up for another kiss. Even if Alcott didn't have a request that night, nothing could keep Sandy away from Jet right then.

Sandy tried to ignore the buzzing phone, but it was hard to continue kissing someone when they had pulled away. Disappointment registered on his face as Jet checked his phone, even more so when he revealed he had to go. The artist pouted, but nodded his understanding and blushed at the kiss. "Hurry back!" he called, waving goodbye before turning back to one of his old pieces. A young woman and her boyfriend approached the piece, the man correcting his girlfriend on her interpretation.
"No, you don't understand, Liv. It's supposed to represent the artist's struggle with his sexuality. That's why the man isn't looking at the woman in the embrace, but she is." He said this all matter-of-factly.
Sandy tapped his shoulder. "Actually, there's no struggle with sexuality present. The piece was made to represent a rebound after a breakup, or at least I always thought of it that way."
The man chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, I'm sure you think you're right."
"You don't have to be so rude about it."
"What do you even know about art?" he challenged.
Sandy pointed to the banner with his picture on it. "Plenty, because I made it." He said this a little loudly, just enough to collect a small crowd of people, all asking him questions of their own.

Once he was finally left alone, Sandy turned back to one of his few paintings, looking over the rather impressionist piece. He stared at it a moment, then reached out and flipped it rightside-up. There, much better. He smiled to himself, then glanced over his shoulder as he heard two people walk close by. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the escort and his current client, heart pounding painfully inside his chest.
"Alcott?" he said aloud before he could stop himself, then turned back to his painting, hoping he hadn't been heard.

Tensing at the tap, Sandy plastered on a fake smile and turned to the woman. He blushed modestly at the praise, then cleared his throat before answering. "Thank you. I use a very fine tool and a steady hand. I also have many years of experience." He tried not to sound as upset as he felt, although the look on Alcott's face chipped at his heart.
"I'm glad you like my work, ma'am. A good amount of these were inspired by my various lovers and experiences. The one you were just admiring, in fact, was originally a gift for my partner." He gestured to the beautiful bronze sculpture of a young woman in the throes of passion, hands in her hair and straddling an invisible person.
He made sure not to clarify whether the partner was a business one, or a life one.

The Sin's words cut him like a knife. He exhaled shortly, tears coming to his eyes that he quickly blinked away. "Th-there's a deck in the back that you're allowed to smoke on," he said, voice just a little thick. "If you'd like, I can show your lady friend around while you smoke."
Placing a charming smile on his face, he offered his arm to the woman. "After all, there's nothing like a tour by the artist themselves," he reasoned. In the back of his mind, he suddenly wished for Jet. He was essentially a prostitute, yes, but at least he knew he was appreciated.

Before tears could drip down Sandy's cheeks, a glass of champagne appeared out of nowhere. He followed the arm, eyes resting on Jet's handsome face with gratitude sparkling in them. Taking the glass, he sipped lightly, then took Jet's arm and stepped close to him.
"I was offering to take this sweet woman on a tour, darling," he told Jet, making sure to use the term of endearment with an almost sickly sweet tone. "But now that you're here, I'm certain her friend can do it for me. He looks like the kind of person who knows artists rather intimately, regardless of his saying otherwise." He shot a look towards Alcott, looking like a smile to anyone who peered over with a hint of outrage hidden inside.