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When the doors opened, people began flooding in. When I say flooding, I mean a slow, meandering pace that made everyone appear to hover. I never realized Louboutin and Versace shoes made people float. Just float.

Wyatt's eyes stared down at a pair of gold stilettos embroidered with glittering crystals and metallic accents. I elbowed him and we shared one heck of an eyeroll.

Despite the highfalutin guest count, it was only a matter of time before the regular humans joined the fray. Mrs. Silva, with a sparkly dress-clad Reagan in tow, entered behind the tattoo shop crew. Some of Jordan's folks wandered in as well, and a few faces I recognized from Wildrose. The barista from The Crystal Mug joined, and two uniformed police officers from my precinct followed. I couldn't tell if they were there as a part of on-duty security, or just for a visit. Dozens of people filled the space, and as soon as the echoing met a certain decibel, my ears rang to high hell.

"I have a solution for that," Clementine chirped from over my shoulder. I started, but turned to face her right away.

"Hi." I couldn't fight the smile as I leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Solution for what?"

She waved at Wyatt, then looked back at me. "I saw you about to cover your ears."

"This is true." I squinted as if that would help me hear less.

Clem turned her head and showed me the tiny round fleshy toned things poking out of her ears. "I have a backup pair, want them?"

"But how can I hear you then?"

"Trust me." She dug in her purse and plucked out a tiny purple box. "You can."

It was then that I noticed her silky pantsuit, burgundy and rose, with a pair of black Oxfords with hints of the same colors in the stitching. My stomach flip-flopped as I accepted the box, and she showed me how to use them. As soon as they fell in place, the background noise faded to a low garble rather than a loud nightmare, and I blinked a few times while looking around.

"Whoa." I flinched when my voice sounded strange. "Hello."

"Hi." She grinned and nodded. "See?"

"Wow. These are so much better."

Wyatt looked on with wide eyes, appearing as overwhelmed with the crowd as we were, except way calmer about it.

"Yup. I almost always have them in if I'm around people. Most of the time no one can tell." She smiled and held her hand to me. "Let's walk around. I have a time limit on my burn out."

"Me too." I laughed and motioned to Wyatt. "Care for a gander?"

"Yup." He nodded, his hands tucked deep into his pockets as we followed the crowd around the perimeter.

In time, Tati returned to Wyatt's side, and she guided him toward the front of the gallery where Kanika stood. People approached them every so often, sharing conversation, and passing little cards back and forth. After an hour or so, Clem and I found a less populated place at the back of the gallery near the bathrooms.

"Tati's work is incredible," she said after a while.

"It is. Seeing it like this is just…breathtaking. Did you see the price points? My god."

"Oh yeah. And that's low from what I've seen, but I suppose her first gallery show has to be that way. People will bid though, from my understanding. So nothing is a done-deal sort of price until the end."

"I am clearly not a cultured person."

"Nor am I, save for the fact I overheard people talking on my way in. I usually visit galleries or museums on their off hours when hardly anyone is around."

"Same. I mean, rarely inside though. Unless there is a policing emergency." I smirked after I said it.

Clem laughed and gave my hand a squeeze. "Fair enough!"

"This is pretty amazing though, I have to say." I drew in a slow breath as I looked around, feeling better able to take in the experience now that my head wasn't trying to explode. "I'm so happy for her. So happy. And proud."

"My experience of happiness for others sometimes dims my own personal contentment and I am absolutely aware of the neurodiversity evident in that cognitive pattern," Clem said, her expression rather stoic. "But I, too, feel happy for Tatiana. Her gift is incredible, and I am honored to be here."

"I think I feel that way sometimes, too. Someone else excels at something, and I feel a little left behind. It doesn't stop me from being happy or excited for them, I just sometimes feel a little less happy for myself." I shrugged, matching her sentiment, at least partly, as she wandered over to one of the paintings closest to us.

"I really like this one."