Emmy Beaumont had so many pet peeves, she could probably make a list several kilometers long, but at the top of her list were people who thought they knew everything about a person they'd barely met. Take her, for example. She's of average height, skinny, and gets her sensibly styled hair trimmed once a month. She sometimes wears a pair of tortoiseshell glasses, like right now, that make her look exactly like a librarian. On most days, she's dressed in attire that didn't really make her stand out from the crowd, but her icy azure eyes really discern her from the tour group she was mechanically guiding around the Alderman Museum. She doesn't drink or smoke. She's still a virgin, and twenty-eight years old. She'd rather read Jane Eyre for the eleventh billion time than the new issue of Cosmo. She works here at the museum, and when she doesn't, she's usually reading or something.
From these few details, people assume that Emmy is a totally brainiac. That she has no life. That she lives in a world of parchment.
And you know what's really sad?
They're right.
Well, apart from the fact that she was a 'Breeder' there wasn't much that was special about her, at least in her mind. She heaved a sigh that rose her chest up a few centimeters, and she continued on with her million-watt smirk and ambled over to an exhibit depicting an African lion hunt.
In a normal situation, Emmy would’ve avoided jobs in which she would stand, and talk, in front of people, like a disease. Or the Ebola virus. Or chicken pox. But this, like her life for the past fourteen years, wasn’t a normal situation. And besides, she couldn't deny that she needed the money, so here she was, pointing out the stuffed lion and plastic, life-sized hunters closing in on it.

If there was one place Astrid would never go to, it's the museum. What's so great about it anyway? It's just a place where collections of old useless junk are stored anyway. There's nothing special about them, they're just plain old junk. But what she can't understand is why people actually appreciate them.

Why did she go to the museum?

Actually, she didn't know herself. Maybe she wanted to know other perspectives that might change her point of view about art.. or maybe she just wanted to have a good laugh. Besides, entrance is free.

Going to the museum wouldn't do anything to her, except waste her time. It's a good thing she's not doing anything important so that at least she can have a little time to spend with herself.

She entered the museum without a care. The security guard stared at her. Maybe because of her inappropriate dress. She didn't look like she was going inside a museum. Her hair is tied in a ponytail, showing her piercings. Her t-shirt has a pentagram printed on it and her jeans, well, they didn't look good either. But heck, it seems that nobody goes to the museum, so he didn't care that much. At least she's not that shabby looking.

As she entered the museum, she saw paintings of flowers and animals first. That didn't interest her much. But she saw this exhibit portraying an African lion hunt. The exhibit looked so real to her. It was good craftsmanship. But when her eyes turned to the African hunters, she just can't help but to burst into laughter. The artist of that exhibit sure knows his Africans, she thought.

But she noticed something. No, actually, she noticed someone. A lady of average height.. and that outfit.. she looked like the curator of the museum. Now, she just can't help but blush. Of course, laughing at other races is not nice--in other words, rude. She was ashamed of herself. Just because she's American doesn't mean that she can discriminate the Africans.

She coughed slightly. "Sorry."

Emmy cocked an eyebrow at one of the museum attendees, attempting to surpress a small smile playing at her thin, pinkish lips. This was especially amusing, since prudish, uptight men and women alongside the schoolchildren were common, and people taking amusements at the mostly nude men were quite the endangered species. Instead, she gave a knowing look, a smirk contained in the flecks of light dancing in her pupils. She cleared her throat, formally addressing, "And, if you will, you can continue on to our new pearls or Blue Nile IMAX movie. Have a great day and return to the Alderman Museum soon." For the sake of my paycheck... she added mentally.

It seems that the tour is already finished.

But I just entered here.. She thought.

People were already going out of the museum. And she.. well, she wanted to loiter for a little bit more. It was only 7 pm anyway.

She noticed a strange painting to her right. It's an abstract painting. That certain painting caught her eye. She walked towards it and just stood there..

"Unreal.."

For a moment, the all too professional-looking woman just radiated a horribly inappropriate stare at the girl. Emmy was one to rarely be caught in the act of rudeness, so she forced her eyes to dart away. Well, it wasn't like there wasn't a lot to look at in here... but she'd seen it all a thousand times before, seeing the looks of absolute facination at objects she'd already dubbed boring. But her eyes flickered back to the girl, and she asked, resuming her 'work' voice, "Is there anything I can help you with, ma'am?"

Astrid looked like an idiot as she feasted her eyes on the painting. She thought she's found something smart, but when she looked at it carefully, it was another one of those stupid paintings she saw on those home-renovatibg channels, or whatever you call that. She raised aneyebrow and sighed.

Smart.

Again, she noticed the lady she saw earlier talking to her. She smiled faintly and shook her head.

"Nah, I was just looking."

..at useless crap. She thought.

She can't help but grin. Noticing that the lady was still looking at her, she cleared her throat and continued what she was saying. "Did I do something wrong?"

"N-No... no, no, no, it's fine... it's just..." Emmanuelle cut herself off before she dashed off into ramble land. "... well, the Alderman museum isn't exactly the most vastly entertaining place in all of the land, and I'm surprised to see someone going solo."

That was rich. That maybe the funniest thing she heard all day. And that, in fact, is true.

The museum is such a boring place, so why bother?

"I agree," she said, trying to hold her giggles. "Just trying to have a walk actually," she continued.