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It was a rare day for Guernica Black to not have any obligations that overrode her desire to indulge her in most treasured, most neglected hobby. On a general day, she had some form of homework, practice, or engagement that she needed to be attending to, but it was a rare and wonderfully free day that she found herself with. While she might have normally gone to the library to see if there were any new texts she was interested in, she'd just been the day before when she was gathering books for research, and so she knew that would be a pointless endeavor.

With all her free time, she'd decided to take a walk. She wasn't exactly dressed for it -- skinny jeans, a low heel and a snug cardigan -- but she hadn't really had a goal in mind when she'd started walking. It would have been a simple enough matter to have her chauffeur take her anywhere she wanted if she had, of course, and that would have defeated the purpose of walking at all; as it stood, when she got tired of walking, she would simply call home and arrange to be picked up.

Rounding a corner, she tipped her head up and admired the architecture of a building she'd never seen before. Destiny City was big, and truth be told, she didn't really explore that much on her down time -- there were many places she had never visited, and many more that she never cared to visit. This caught her eye, however, because it was a museum. She was well acquainted with the larger, more prestigious museums in Destiny City, having spent a great deal of her time poring over their fossil exhibits during her leisure hours, but she'd never taken a turn in this one.

She slowed her walk, the wind picking up and whipping her ponytail behind her, and she frowned. It was a little chilly outside, anyhow -- if the museum ended up being a disappointment, she could call for a ride to a more thrilling one from inside, and she would have the benefit of not freezing to death in the meantime.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she entered, and she looked around, her curious expression slowly transforming to a smile as she did. The museum seemed to be well-maintained, decorated with a smooth, pretty polish that she could appreciate. There weren't many people around, and it seemed like the information desk was going unmanned -- disappointing. However, from across the lobby she could see someone, and he looked suitably distinguished enough to at least hopefully know his way around the museum.

Friendly smile in place, she adjusted the sleeves of her cardigan and strode over with purpose, pausing a respectable distance from him before speaking. "Excuse me. I hope I'm not being troublesome, but do you know where I might find some assistance in navigating the museum? I've never been here before, and I don't really see... anyone else about."

So saying, she gestured with a palm up, indicating the abandoned information desk.

Guernica was a little amused by the thumbtacks escapades, but it would have been impossible for Iouri to tell unless he was looking directly in her eyes; they warmed a bit from humor, but otherwise, her expression remained politely distant. As he went through the lengths of introducing himself, she found that she was slightly incredulous as to his status as a doctor -- perhaps he had just freshly obtained the degree? -- and she wondered precisely what kind of institution would employ a brand new doctor as its director, anyhow. It was possible that there was a reason she had never heard of this museum! It was fledgling, or perhaps, on its way out?

Either way, it bore looking into, if only because she could while away a bit of her afternoon there. She took a moment to smooth her hands down the front of her jeans, unpainted nails tapping a couple of times on mid thigh, before she offered her hand. "Guernica Black. It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Spekter."

That, in an of itself, was not a lie even if it was simply a social nicety; Guernica was glad to not be alone in the museum, and if he could show her around, perhaps there would be something of interest to her. There was nothing inherently wrong with small museums, and oftentimes the overlooked places held the most potential, or perhaps a rare find...

Come to think of it, she might have heard something about this place in the news recently. It hadn't been about a subject that largely interested her, but it was enough to jog her memory and give her a little faith that the institution wasn't going under entirely. She would remember that, and would have been sad at the prospect of it.

Drawing her lower lip into her mouth, she considered jumping straight to the chase like a six year-old -- do you have any dinosaurs?! -- or biding her time and going for more sophistication. She was peripherally interested in everything else the museum had to offer, simply because it was a new place, but she would be lying to herself if she tried to pretend for even a moment that she wasn't really there for one reason. Of course, if she went straight for the dinosaur exhibits, she knew she'd never leave them.

"Specifically, I'm very interested in prehistory.. notably the Mesozoic era, but in general, prehistory." The spark in her eyes was warming, her good humor becoming more evident in the quick, slight bowing of her lips upward. "I have a deep and abiding love for non-avian dinosaurs," she added, allowing her shoulders to rise and fall in a quick shrug.

Most people thought she was strange when she began to profess her enthusiasm for dinosaurs, but she thought she was less likely to get a skeptical eye at a museum. At least not from the director, anyhow.

She couldn't help the tiny thrill that shot through her system at the mention of a dinosaur exhibit. One she hadn't seen, even. Her entire face lit up at the prospect of seeing it, and it didn't take any persuasion at all for her to fall into step behind the museum director and follow him up the staircase. Another time, she might have paused to admire it, perhaps run her hand along the railing and muse about the stylistic elements of it, but not just then. She ignored, too, all of the exhibits they passed, even one on a large meteorite she might have found marginally interesting if she gave it the time; maybe later. Guernica's entire focus was saved for what was before her.

And she was not disappointed. Dr. Spekter was speaking to her, but she was filtering his words at a decreased pace, fuzzy in quality; her entire focus was for the triceratops before her, and while she heard him speak, she wasn't actually listening much. Oh, but it was gorgeous. She didn't care about the horrible color scheme for the second floor, didn't mind in the least that there was more work to be done than otherwise; it was beautiful.

And she said as much, on a breath, sounding reverent: "This is beautiful."

Needing no more invitation, she strode toward the centerpiece, one hand lifted and curled in front of her chest as she went. She'd never seen a skeleton in such exquisite form, preserved so lovingly -- not of a triceratops. Certainly she'd seen far more impressive skeletons in other museums, but this felt.. different somehow, more special. The second floor was unoccupied save for her and the museum director, and it felt, almost obscenely for a moment, like it belonged to her. It almost made her chest hurt, made bitterness quell in her throat for a second, because once upon a time she had wanted this more than she'd wanted anything else.

She'd wanted to work in a museum. She'd wanted to be surrounded by fossils, wanted to devote her life to studying and learning more and more about the magnificent creatures whose bones were preserved and displayed in their magnificence all around her. Some people might have looked around the exhibit and seen disappointment, but all Guernica saw was potential.

Turning, her face a little flushed from excitement, she said, "I hope you do modernize this next. I've been to nearly every museum in Destiny City, and this is the most gorgeous -- and complete -- and lovingly rendered piece for this particular species I've ever seen. It's magnificent."

Then, deciding that the attraction in the room was not the doctor, she turned back to the triceratops again. She extended a hand, nearly tall enough to touch the very tip of the animal's chin, had she been close enough. She was not, of course, because she would never disrespect the integrity of the exhibit like that, but the idea of it was entrancing.

"T. prorsus?" She asked, eyes flicking to the display plate, then back again. Unable to keep the feeling from her voice, she repeated, "Beautiful. Please don't ever sell it."

Most people would have torn their gaze away from the triceratops and been disappointed. They would have seen half-finished skeletons on display, wasted potential and the ruins of what might have been. Guernica, however, had too deep a love for the ancient bones and the careful set-up of this floor to be disappointed; rather, she only saw potential, no waste. When she heard that all of the fossils in this room were actually found by paleontologists who used to work for the museum? Her heart leapt into her throat.

Placing her hand over the hammering beat, she slowly turned to take in the rest of the room, her expression an odd combination of envy and longing. What she wouldn't give to have been one of the people on those teams -- even an intern, or just... an assistant! Anything! To be out there, to be discovering pieces of history, to have a part in reconstructing the skeleton of a once beautiful and powerful creature... even one of the incomplete ones! She would have been thrilled -- no, thrilled was an understatement. She was almost disturbingly envious of anyone who had touched those bones, both because it hadn't been her, and because she knew, at least right now, it would be years and years and years before it was her. If it was ever her.

No, it would be her some day, she thought, balling her hand into a fist. She didn't care how long it took -- one day, she would be a practicing paleontologist.

"That's amazing," she said, a quiet reverence in her voice that directly contradicted the tumult in her eyes. "Amassing a collection from digs that your own paleontologists conducted. That makes it so much more personal, so much more... invested, and awe-inspiring."

She began to walk around the triceratops, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth and chewing as she did. It seemed Guernica had already forgotten that this was the first time she'd been here, that she'd only been here a manner of moments; she felt a little proprietary over the exhibit, especially now that she knew there were no paleontologists on staff. Who was taking care of these magnificent fossils? Who was making certain they were documented properly, that they were shown to their best advantage? Who was going through the museum stores to see if that stray bone was actually a tooth for the compsognathus? Having all of this just sit here -- collect dust, fall into disrepair -- broke her heart a little.

"I'd love to see it when it's restored," she said, finally turning to look at Iouri again. There was something on her face, a pinching around her eyes that betrayed unhappiness to contradict her words. "Actually, I'd love... to restore it," she half-laughed, bringing a hand up to swipe her bangs out of her face.

But that was impossible. "But I'm only an undergraduate student, so. Have you considered advertising for paleontology staff? I would think that triceratops alone would be enough to draw someone in, not to mention all the potential in these partial reconstructions..."

Her longing gaze turned to the turkey-sized dinosaur next to her, and she crouched a bit, tucking her knees together and placing folded hands over them. The animal's jaw was missing, one leg and a good portion of its ribs, and she was no where near skilled enough to identify it from the bones alone... but oh, she wished she was.

As she listened to the museum director, Guernica wondered what it would take for her to convince her parents to make a donation to the museum. They certainly had the money to spare, and from time to time they chose a worthy cause and budgeted out a sizable bit of money, largely to stay within the friendly gaze of the public. (The potential for tax cuts on donations was also a strong motivating factor, though Guernica wasn't certain if a donation to this museum would count insofar as that went.) If she let them know it was very important to her, it was likely that they would consider it... but considering didn't mean they would follow through.

More than likely, they would want something of her in return, and she wasn't certain she'd be willing to agree to their terms. They had already managed to confine her to at least two more years studying Anthropology, which she held very little love for, and she didn't want to know what they would ask of her next; an MA in it? Perhaps to pick up her dancing again? Both of these possibilities were equally distasteful to her, and as she crouched, a frown marred her face.

She would bring it up to her parents casually, she decided.

Rising, her knees popping as she did, she finally looked back to Iouri. She didn't interrupt him, though her eyes did widen at the offer of an internship, her hands tightening a bit in the hem of her sweater. Work? Here?

Guernica worked, of course, at her mother's ballet school, but that was different. She enjoyed her work with the children, but that would be nothing compared to... to actually being in the midst of all of this, to being part of restoring something beautiful and interesting and so wholly personal to her. Even though she wouldn't be able to do any of the truly exciting work -- and in her dreams that would be going on digs and actually unearthing and documenting more fossils -- she would be close. Oh, she would be so close, and she could work with all of this, and she could be here, and --

Cheeks a bit flushed, she said softly, "Anthropology." There was no time to be embarrassed by her quiet enthusiasm, no thought of such; this offer -- opportunity -- was nothing she had expected, and for Guernica, there was no reason to be embarrassed.

After a moment, she cleared her throat, smoothed her hands down the front of her thighs. "I would be very interested in an internship here, Dr. Spekter."

She would make it work around her schedule. If she could really have this. Imagine -- going through the actual journals from the digs!