Vincent van Gogh Roses

Vincent van Gogh RosesFrancois Boucher The Marquise de PompadourFrank Dicksee PassionAndrea del Sarto Holy FamilyAndrea del Sarto Madonna of the Harpies
From behind the rocks came the plaintive bleat of Silverfish wondering where everyone had got to just when he needed them. The girl rolled her eyes.
‘Oh gods. For this I’m missing lunch?’
‘You could ‘Chances are where you find them, I’ve always said,’ said Victor.
‘But how–’
Victor had already strolled away with gleeful nonchalance. She trailed after him, her face locked in a petulant pout.
‘Ah,’ said Silverfish sarcastically, looking up. ‘My word. Everyone always eat it off my forehead,’ said Victor, standing up. He had the satisfaction of feeling her thoughtful gaze on the back of his neck as he retrieved his sword and gave it a few experimental swishes, with rather more force than was necessary. ‘You’re the boy in the street, aren’t you?’ she said. ‘That’s right. You’re the girl who was going to be shot,’ said Victor. ‘I see they missed.’ She looked at him curiously. ‘How did you get a job so quickly? Most people have to wait weeks for a chance.’