“I must see The Picasso.” Taehyung chirps. His eyes are twinkling in a glorious delight that Jeongguk never seems to fall out of place yet.

“Then you shall.” He says, with a private smile that only the latter could see. Jeongguk’s significant.

“And the maître d’,” he glances hopefully to the left and steps down his little excitement. “They have one, right?”

“They do indeed.”

“Is he stuffy? I hope he’s insufferably stuffy!”

“He will be if I don’t tip him,” Jeongguk says. Both of them are in the Mystere Building on West Seventy-Two, in the lobby of the Château restaurant.

Taehyung touches his arm. “Gguk, this is really sweet of you, but we don’t have to eat here. I don’t want you to spend this much on me. Let’s just have a drink, see the painting and maybe the marble pool. We can share a pizza at Grease’s afterward.”

“Relax,” Jeongguk says. “I’m rich.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

The Château is famous, timeless and the only restaurant in Seoul, probably in the entire of South Korea designated as a landmark.

“Do you mean really, you’re rich,” Taehyung tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing in deep concentration, “or that you’re really rich?”

“I’m rich enough to buy you anything you like for seven generations.”

He laughs. “In that case, I’ll have The Picasso for this entire week!”

Does Jeongguk mention how he loves this man?

He gives his name to the maître d’ and leads Taehyung to the corridor where The Picasso tapestry had hung since the restaurant opened back in 1989. The twenty-two-foot-high Picasso was in fact the centre square of a stage curtain that has been designed for the 1970 Paris production. When the theatre owner ran out of money, he cut The Picasso portion from the curtain and sold it. Now, with the economy in distress, Taehyung has heard the tapestry is about to be auctioned for an estimated seven million dollars, probably more. This might be his only chance to see it.

“Oh my god!” he says, his voice suddenly turning husky. “I love it.”

“More than you love me?” Jeongguk smirks teasingly.

“Cut it out, Jeon. You know what I mean. Look at that.”

Jeongguk shrugs and smiles. “Compared to his other work, the colours are muted,” he states. “But yeah, it’s pretty magnificent.”

“Tell me about it,” Taehyung urges. “Impress me.”

“It’s a distemper on linen,” Jeongguk says.

“Distemper? Like the disease a dog gets?”

“Exactly like that.”

Taehyung gives