Cambridge Spies - September 30, 1938
[Yes, this is the second Guerica-related Cambridge Spies fic I've written. No, this doesn't bother me *g*.]
Blunt didn’t often look happy. He rarely was, and when his expression seemed to say that he truly was happy it was usually untrue, while his genuine joy was often hidden. But there was something inexplicably and truly pleased about his face as he returned to the house on Benedict street one September evening.
Kim was sitting at the table with a newspaper when Anthony came in. “Where have you been and what’s got you so delighted?”
“Good evening to you, too,” Anthony deadpanned. “I was at the Whitechapel Art Gallery.” He went to make a drink but when he turned around, Kim was watching him with a blank expression. That clearly hadn’t answered his question. Blunt rolled his eyes. “Pablo Picasso’s latest is on display. It has been… much talked about. I thought I would give it a look.”
“All day?” Kim looked unimpressed.
“It’s a very large painting,” Anthony shot back dryly. He went to the table with his drink and started absently leafing through the bits of the newspaper that Kim has discarded. “You should go see it tomorrow.”
Kim snorted. “Why?”
“You might find it interesting.”
“You’re the picture man, Anthony.” He turned the page of the newspaper, not really listening. There was a reason Anthony rarely brought his academic interests back to Benedict Street. His friends, and Kim first and foremost, found it an eccentric distraction at the very least, a hypocritical indulgence at worst. Either way they had no interest in it, and why he seemed intent on going on about it now-
“It’s called Guernica.”
That got Kim’s attention.
When he came by the next evening, Anthony met his gaze and arched a brow, an unasked question. Kim rolled his eyes, but nodded, just perceptively – an answer.
But for all his dismissiveness, he was a just little quieter than usual that evening.