Blue

Sean has some time to kill. His flight from Heathrow's got into JFK long before Viggo's flight from LA is due in, so he's into Manhattan already. A hefty tip and a slow, sexy smile directed with all of its shattering force on a defenceless receptionist has already checked them both with minimum fuss and even less questions into a top floor, corner suite at one of those posh design hotels.

He knows what they have waiting for them.. dark satin sheets, a private jacuzzi in a glass-paned bathroom facing the citylights that feels decadent enough to make even the Bean blush, a bottle of an Italian red that made the sommelier called in by the receptionist to assist with the selection raise his eyebrows at the choice and use the word "sexy" to describe it...
But he doesn't want to be in that room alone, so he walks the avenues letting the height of the buildings try to dwarf him and coming out the winner.

The MOMA is just around the corner and papers all over the world have raved so much about its renovation that Sean decides to spend the couple of hours he has to kill there.

Though a lot of the artwork he sees is sublime, his attention wanders, too caught up in the one who is going to join him and in the few days they have stolen together in this city.
Until he stops in front of a painting. A disturbing painting. Other visitors pass by, some jostling him annoyedly as he stands rooted in front of the canvas, but he cannot move.

He's never seen anything like this, he's never seen so many shades of blue and he's never seen shades of blue that convey such a sense of quiet hopelessnes. If Viggo were here with him, he would probably be able to explain how Picasso had used these shades of blue to convey the feel of a lightless world.
Sean only knows it makes him want to go back to the hotel room and turn all the lights on, and bless the gods for giving him light.