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It was promotional season for the Symphony. At least three times a year the current standing members were gathered up for group photos. Section, instrument, seat. Anybody above third chair was to be extra presentable. Cerissé had no qualms with this – she looked nice every day. The Symphony had a simple uniform – black. Which was why nearly every musician assembled passed a lint roller between them, some standing to swipe it down another’s back, others checking for the fourth time to free any stray hairs from their shoulders.

For someone as pale as Cerissé, this was especially prevalent. She swore some days she was (happily) surprised she wasn’t bald from how often she’d find stray hairs on shoulders or have to clean out a brush….

One of the cellists handed her the lint roller and she carefully swiped it over her shoulders and chest, before turning and allowing the young man the honor of double checking her back. Then it was off again and Cerissé got to wait for the next picture she was to be in. Still, she and a few other young women (and men) waited off to one side of the set, watching the young man they had hired on for the photography this time. At least one of the other violinists leaned over to her and whispered, “So, he’s not bad to look at, right?” Cerissé passed her a look, brows lifting.

“I guess if you’re into tall and handsome…” Was she into tall and handsome?

The 'click' of the camera drew her attention, green eyes focusing on the young man (he was actually older than she was, but she didn't know that) with the camera. The other violinist blushed and looked away, seemingly embarrassed that she'd been caught in her whimsy of gossip about the attractive photographer. Cerissé, however, felt no such shame in it.

He was, by the standards defined by lord knew who, an attractive man. A bit too..gentle around the edges, perhaps, but some people would have appreciated that about him, at least.

Did she care he was pointing a camera at her? A little bit. But she also couldn't and wouldn't guarantee he wasn't also pointing his camera at anybody else but her. No need to be awkward, at the very least. It looked like he was now taking some pictures of the conductor, but another violinist leaned into him; "Oh, he's very handsome." Yes, she'd heard that already. "I know. I'm more interested in seeing what he can do with that camera." Cerissé stated pointedly. The other violinist giggled. "Or with his hands?"

"I'm fairly certain he'd rather see what I could do with mine."

One of the violinists clicked her tongue and winked. Cerissé felt shamed on her behalf for such a thing. It was very much unprofessional (as though the checking out at the meat market wasn't as well. She hadn't really been an instigator there, though). She offered the photographer a smile instead - it looked almost uncharacteristic on her face. Not unpleasant, but almost as though it wasn't an expression she wore too often.

"Neutral posing, or with the instruments?" she inquired, inclined really to show off her violin more than herself. She looked at it as though it was a cherished pet, holding it up gingerly in place against her neck and shoulder. One of the other violinists was embarrassed for her as she had been for them.

Why.

All these sophisticated ladies and they couldn't keep their googly eyes to themselves. Cerissé, for that moment, was ashamed of her section. They were lovely ladies holding very important instruments and one of the first chairs was making eyes at a photographer. Not that he was bad on the eyes, but it just added fuel to a small fire that burned inside of her.

It should have been her in that chair. She took the violin so seriously that a heart attack wished it was half as serious.

"Very well," Cerissé dropped the instrument from the position she held it previously and let it settle to her side, still cradled as one would hold a somewhat-capable infant to keep it from dropping to the floor. Violins, unlike small children, didn't belong on floors.

Once in the requested neutral pose, she offered a smile. That same, almost foreign looking smile. It perhaps only looked suitable because she held the violin in her hand and it was the one thing that deserved any of her love.

To her left, a brunette that Cerissé knew was named Colette was trying to hold in a fit of giggles, her grin almost maniacal as Tristan maintained his best attempt at being professional. Frankly, he was much better at it than Colette was at least.

It was only nice because next to her, Cerissé looked like an image of respect and self control. Which she was, but it was really emphasized in that situation that she knew at least to show her good side and not the one that shot her side-glances whenever the poor guy turned around to get something out of his camera bag.

Cerissé elbowed her at least once.

When Tristan approached to take the second chair away first, she rose silently, the violin tucked gently against her as she fell in to follow behind him.

"If you bring Colette in here at all she's going to be worse. I'm going to warn you, at least."

"I understand."

How many times had she heard a passing comment about how 'I didn't realize the Symphony was full of such beautiful women to look at'. Of course it was, but they were also talented and hard working and deserved better than that. She'd gotten off on that tangent more than once in public with someone she likely shouldn't have.

But she didn't care.

Cerissé took a moment to carefully rearrange her hair, pulling a stray away from her shoulder with a small frown. This pale hair would ruin any picture if left to it's own devices, she was certain of it. Still, she followed the instructions easily, violin tucked into her side and holding the bow just as gingerly.

A slight tilt of the head here, the neutral expression was definitely one that seemed as though she wore it the most. It was just so default, she couldn't help it.

"That's mostly how Colette is, I wouldn't take it to heart. She'll forget about you the second you leave, no matter what she says to the contrary."

While she wasn't as bluntly obvious about it as Colette was, Cerissé took advantage of the nearness - the slight fussing - to get a better look at Tristan's face. She guessed she could see what it was the brunette found so attractive about him. Something about a tall man (and lord, even in heels she felt short next to him) was appealing, and she imagined if he had really wanted to, he could have made a heart or two pitter-patter.

Not that hers did any such thing. She just looked down to her hair after he was done and nodded. "Thank you."

Upon request, she lifted the instrument to gently settle beneath her chin, trying to balance between accuracy and actual aesthetic for the sake of photography. It was painful to her senses as an artist, but she also knew it would be better for the photographer to do so.

She gently put the bow to the strings, holding it in place and making a point to look at the instrument.

Not at the tall handsome photographer.

If he'd been staring, Cerissé didn't call him out on it. After all, she had also been staring.

She politely posed through a few more pictures, still more absorbed into her instrument than his presence behind the camera - something that really kept her from seeming stiff and posed. Mostly, because she didn't care. She'd accepted she'd look nice and Tristan had seemed to have an eye out for making certain of that, so his craft was left in his hand, and hers...in her own.

"I can play for a bit," though she imagined if she was heard, Colette in the other room would use it as an excuse to beg for a chance to do the same. Cerissé didn't mention this, however.

"Just let me know when you're ready," she warned, waiting until she had his confirmation to start playing.