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There were very few things that would get Mathias into a suit besides holiday mass. Being asked by one of his myriad "uncles" - specifically one he actually did have some modicum of respect for - to stand in for him because "this is more your realm than mine," well... It was as good a reason as any - and really he'd take any family brownie points he could get to cash in later for when he invariably upset another one of his relatives.

Which was what found him standing in the hallway outside the physical therapy ward looking over the art showcase that had been graciously funded by the White family.

All local artists - mostly students from Mayet University if he had to hazard a guess. Given that they all looked like school projects that the students surely thought were their magnum opus. They'd learn eventually that true art was not so... rote and routine.

All the same it had him pinching the bridge of his nose. "This won't do at all..." He groaned.

He was not having it. Not with White money involved. So he moved with the authority invested in him by God and his uncle and moved to start taking the art down. Even with the folks starting to gather around and make a scene of there being an exhibit - and now even more so as he reached the first painting and whisked it off the wall, he didn't care. They were not going to be known for showcasing subpar art in this place.

Motion from the crowd caught his eye. Ah - staff - good.

"Ma'am," he called out to the dark skinned nurse. "Could you do me a huge favor and throw these in the nearest closet?"

He motioned his head toward the pike of canvases he was making. "The darker the better."

"There was a moment of pause as Mathias tilted his head slightly as the woman spoke, placing the paintings against the wall, and essentially begging him not to touch them further. Reaching up he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, trying to stave off the rising headache that was threatening to make him snappy. Well - extra - snappy.

"Please do," He said, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. "This exhibit was... funded... by my family's money - and I was sent to give my expert opinion on the layout and I've done so and found it wanting."

"But, if it matters, I'll attempt to refrain from trying to find a place myself, but I am taking these down," He said. "They can showcase these school projects at the University Gallery if they're so damn inclined, I'd rather real art be showcased on my family dime."

"So if you can tell your supervisor or whatever to get on the horn with the child ward and warn them I'm about to show up in half an hour with enough art supplies to wage a small war that would be GREAT."

Mathias was well aware of the reputation of the "upper classes" as it were, and the White family was - in particular - not immune to such things. But Uncle Robert wasn't the same level of penny pincher that Uncle Ned was. Uncle Ned's miserly nature was well known to Mathias - he was actually honestly surprised he'd sprung for a CCTV camera to protect his last investment but he was sure the cost of it had come out of something else - likely the kitchen equipment if he had to hazard a guess.

Either way.

He crossed his arms and waited... tapping his foot while he tried hard not to grind his teeth. A phone call to the White family would of course - reveal that he was their picked man for this venture.

He was an artist after all.

Lovely.

Mathias pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath and let it out again. This was the second time this week he'd had to deal indirectly with the family. Or rather, more directly in this case.

"Feel free," He said, trying hard not to speak through clenched teeth. "I'm here on THEIR behest anyway, I'm one of the few artists in the family."

Well one of the few artists that actually tried to make a living of it. But that was neither here nor there.

"My concern is that this is all college level - tat," He expressed in no uncertain terms. "We should be showcasing art of your... longer term guests in the pediatric ward - it'd at least have some actual soul to it."

Oh you had to be...

The sigh that issued forth from the man was a mix between annoyance and defeat. He hadn't really come here to be lectured by staff about soul. Least of all by a nurse by the looks of things. But, having recently been reminded that he had a bad habit of tapping into his Uncle Ned's energies, he forced himself to look at the art with the same eye that had managed to get him a solid B+ in Art History.

"Just so I don't get accused of mansplaining," He groused, moving closer to the art and giving it all a once over. "Yes, I can see the differences quite well. Each artist has their own style, but I can tell you all one thing about this art..."

"It's the work of tired, worn out art students," He said. "Who have been drawing and painting the same damn things for the past three months - are bored to death, and are utterly convinced that if they get a project into a gallery their professors will let them try something NEW."

"Those raised edges?" He said. "Jitters from too much coffee, or even caffeine pills. The smooth, delicate strokes.... Well let's just say that someone's going to have the munchies. The fine details is probably someone mainlining Adderall and hoping they can get it done before the deadline."

"You see soul - I see what remains before they're given actual freedom."

"Well no accounting for taste, or lack there of I suppose," He said coolly, trying to force himself to calm down. He could feel his anger getting the best of him - making him more bullheaded than usual. At this point he was willing to dig in his heels on principle alone but at the end of the day - the two women technically had the right of it, galling as it was.

He paced, like a very angry wolf trapped in a cage. Working the same two feet of floor while he waited for the director to return. At the end of the day it was family money - it was no skin off his back aside from... you know - personal reputation.

Which he was sure was doing WONDERFULY right now.

He shot a glance at the girl who had tried to lecture him, frowned, and thought better of it. She'd mentioned being blind - but she definitely didn't seem to be at a casual glance. But who was he to judge.

"I'm not going to touch anything," He finally offered.

Oh lovely, a bleeding heart. Not literally, else she wouldn't be standing here, but the level of show going on here deserved an Oscar at the very least. It would not take much for her to make a scene and given how things went - man in a suit vs smaller woman in scrubs - it would not end well for him or his family's reputation. Granted - not that people didn't half expect him to tank the family reputation everywhere he went.

He was going to need a long stiff drink after this.

"That's what leaders do, they lead," Mathias offered off-handedly, not really giving the now absent woman much mind. At the end of the day if she wanted him out of her building, she'd come up with a reason or excuse that would please the penny pinchers that controlled the family purse strings. "Good ones make you admire them while they do it, s**t ones make you hate them with every fiber of your being - in the end it's a question of style and level of care. As to your other question..."

He finally turned to give her an honest look, forcing himself to lower his hackles, and relax - go from Defcon 1 to Defcon 3. Placing his hands behind his back, he sighed.

"Children don't need lectures, they just create," Mathias said. "For the sake of creation. I'd argue it's art in its purest form - completely abstracted from being taught. I might have my degree - that might be why my uncle picked me to come here - but all that is, is a piece of paper that says I know things. Experience, time, effort, creating for the sake of nothing else - that is the hallmark of true art. Kids just happen to be the best at it."