"The nerve on some people," narrowed Minerva, "-she speaks as if art is her main subject of interest. Dressed like that, I'd assume her mouth couldn't be far from being dirty as her garden-"
"Enough," interjected Igna, he took many accounts on the faces the students held, "-they don't need to understand the graphic details just yet."
"Majesty, that lady is amusing," snickered one within the group, "-lady, what's your name?" asked others, the group shortly pushed Igna from Minerva's side. A symphony of praise and laughter bellied. Stood still, the petrified Thomas sneaked till Igna's shadow, the act of looking to and fro, paranoid in gesture, wasn't much noticed by the passing crowd of few visitors.
"What happened?" he exhaled, "-who's the lady?"
