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So there's really no internet. I mean, someone already mentioned the "no internet" thing a while ago, but I just figured it was really bad wifi or something. There's seriously no internet? I saw some guy out there using magic to paint roses, but nobody thought there could be some magic fios hookup or something?

[There's a huff then, as she flops sideways against a person who's chatting away on the device already. The lets out a noise that's half-moan, half-whine, then returns to the complaining at hand.]

Don't you think it's a little cruel and unusual? We've got all this free stuff coming out of everywhere, and I can't post it. I can't like it, can't share it.

[She trails off, then sits up at a slouch.]

I get that it sounds spoiled to whine about stuff a lot of people don't have. But... The internet was always how I kept up on fringe artists. Art is so important, and here it's kind of just... Not a thing. Is there even a place for creative types to go? I heard a lot about the bar, but I'm not really sure that's my scene.

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[So that's yet another young kid. What's Wonderland doing? Although, he supposes he shouldn't be surprised, given the source material.

In all honesty, she reminds him just a little of someone, or he might not have replied.]

Somebody put it as this being a gilded cage.

Seems more like a messed up prison to me. You an artist?

[She'd been relaxed when talking to people her age, even the weird skeleton kid. But she tenses at the sudden Adult presence.]

I draw sometimes. What's it to you?

[Fair. He's kinda ancient, comparatively speaking.]

Just going off your rant.

Don't think the bar's really the place for you. But I heard good thing about the café, tends to be more artsy.

[He's well past the limit of "everyone ten years older than me is FIVE THOUSAND YEARS OLD," that's for sure.]

Yeah? [That does sound cool, actually. Maya and her BFF from home spent way too much time in coffee shops and bakeries.] You always go around making judgments about where people like me belong?

[Sounds like something The Man would say.]

Nah. Don't really care enough to.

[Bratty, check. Definitely reminds him of someone.]

But you asked.

[Just going to point that out in the driest way possible.]

[....Aw, crud. She did, didn't she?]

And I guess that was enough of an answer.

[And that's the closest she's going to get to apologizing for jumping at him like that.]

[Whatever. He's not in the business of teaching anyone manners, so he'll just acknowledge that not-apology with not really a nod.]

I haven't been here long enough to research the art scene. But just walk into a room and claim it as your studio, if that works the way it does with the bedrooms, you're halfway there.

[He has legit no idea if it would, but what's the worst that could happen?]

So you're saying that if there is no art scene, I should make there be one.

[That sounds kind of cool, actually.]

That's how it works, isn't it?

Ain't exactly Studio 54, but nothing says it can't be.

[Is an Andy Warhol reference outdated?

He really hopes not.]

[Andy whatnow?]

That's a big gallery where you're from?

[She's a little thirsty for information about actual artistry beyond art freshman art classes, but like hell is she going to admit it.]

[Oh hell.

But actually, she's lucky. He knows a lot about art, even if a lot of his interest intersects with finding out what's good to steal.]

Kinda. Actually it was just a nightspot back in the Seventies in New York that had a lot of artists frequenting it.

Not sure if you're from a world like mine, does New York ring a bell? In that case, what about Andy Warhol?

I'm from New York.

Not the seventies though. My grandma might've known that Warhol guy maybe.

[But if they're going to be having this talk, then:]

I'm Maya, by the way.

Leonard. And your grandma might have, if she ran in interesting circles.

[He almost adds his last name, but it occurs to him that this could lead to her calling him Mr Snart and he's never much cared for that.]

You know that painting of the Campbell soup can?

[She snorts at "Leonard". It's probably best that he doesn't give her the rest.]

Yeah, I've seen it. That's who painted it?

You can stick to Len.

[Hey, whatever. When that's your name, you learn to own it.]

But yes, that's him. There's also a painting of Marilyn Monroe that he did early on that almost everyone knows by sight.

Sure, Lenny.

[Oh, she's going to have fun with this. Adults without honorifics are the best to mess with.]

Marilyn Monroe was that model that everyone says would be too fat to be a model now, right?

[Unexpected, but if she's really observant there is a flash of pain on his face for a moment. He's good at keeping composure, so it's easy to miss.

Not a lot of people ever called him 'Lenny'. He doesn't tell her not to. That never works anyway.]

Actress, not model. Wouldn't have ever called her fat, so I don't know about that.

[She's a lot more observant than people give her credit for being. But she doesn't get that credit because she doesn't vocalize it much.]

It comes up a lot online. They say that based on her measurements she'd be a plus-sized model by the way they judge models lately. And that sucks because she's really pretty.

[This is how Maya learns history.]

She was talented too. Liked diamonds, so we have something in common.

[Look, whatever. Different generations, different culture, he can roll with it. As long as she still has a thinking head on her shoulders, he'll deal.]

That's something all three of us have in common, then.

[Maya has been known to agree to atrocities, when diamonds get involved.]

Good taste.

Though there's the Economics 101 lesson right there: Around here? Diamonds suddenly a lot less exciting.

[Apparently the abundance from the closets is supposed to make him feel blessed. It's mostly boring him so far.]

How could they be less exciting? They're so sparkly.

Less special at least, if you can just open any closet and take them out.

Though I gotta concede on the sparkliness. Fair point.

Well that just means anyone can have diamonds if they want them.

Why is that a bad thing?

Ain't a bad thing if it makes you happy.

Though, imagine if there was internet around here. Anything you liked or shared, nothing special cause everyone else can have the same, just opening the closet.

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