You're really amazing! I couldn't ask for nicer reviewers. Thank you so much for sticking around – this is late enough as it is. I literally had to force myself to start this, but I think I've regained some of the motivation I've lost.

Enough of the excuses! Back to the story. :)

As a side note, I'd like to apologize for Toby's OoC-ness. I'm trying, but I've never written for Toby before and all I can think of is Basil Hallward. So give me some time, if you will, and I hope I'll be able to morph their characters soon.

The Deceiver

On a grassy hilltop just outside of town, a small bungalow rested on crumbling foundations holding up tired eaves. A dilapidated barn and coop meant for fowl sat unused for years. The field was over-run with weeds. The cottage was that of Toby the fisherman.

Though the house appeared forlorn and emptied, a warm light still radiated out the windows. Since the death of his wife five years ago, Toby had not kept up the farm she had built. Still, he continued to live alone in the house on the hill.

Well, Toby was not completely alone. Surrounded by knick knacks and memories, the fisherman turned artist was scurrying about to make sure everything was just right. The chair, angled just the right way. The easel, positioned just so. That fern in the background, was that supposed to be there? Heavens no, that's all wrong…

A light rap at the door brought Toby away from his work. "He's here! He's here! …Just a moment!" He called quickly to the door before adjusting the high-backed arm chair one more time. That looked about right.

Straightening his shirt, Toby hurried across the room in bare feet. Opening it, he was already pouring out excuses: "Sorry to keep you outside, Gill, I was over – Julius! What are you doing here?-!"

"Don't sound so excited to see me," Julius warned with a smirk, stepping across the threshold cane first. "Expecting someone else?"

"Yes, Gill is coming to work on the portrait. I need him to pose for me, and I would really appreciate it if you weren't around to… to… distract!" Toby huffed, planted firmly at the open door.

Testing the mantle of the fireplace for dust, Julius slowly turned to face his old friend Mr. Hallward. "I get the strange feeling… you don't want me here."

"Oh, Julius!" Toby whined. "Don't make me say it again… Please, not today."

The door unexpectedly was knocked upon even though the hinges were opened wide and Toby was still standing there. Looking nervous, a young man with shocking good looks rocked back on his heels at the mat. His hair was a platinum blond and it was styled to fit around his face haphazardly. His bright, almost alarming blue eyes watched Julius by the fireplace with uncertainty. He was dressed in a white pant suit with a dark blue long sleeved shirt underneath the vest, making him look smart. In that first glimpse of him, Julius decided that this was one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen.

"Am I interrupting business, Mr. Hallward?" Gill asked in a naïve voice.

"No, no! No business here," Toby insisted. "Come in, come in! Right on time you are."

Shutting the door behind his guest, Toby took Gill's hat and coat and placed them on the coat rack off to the side. Julius remained positioned by the fireplace, leaning against his black cane and looking amused.

Gill cleared his throat and smiled genially. "I'm afraid we haven't been introduced. My name is Gill Gray; how do you do?"

Julius looked at the out stretched hand and simply nodded. He met Gill halfway across the room and shook his hand lightly. "Lord Julius Wotton. Pleasure to finally meet you, Gill. May I call you Gill?"

"Yes, sir," Gill nodded, having a hard time getting out of Julius' grip politely. "Finally meet me?"

Toby intervened, looking like a child between the two tall men. His silver blue hair made him look like an old man from a distance and his finicky habits and slow going nature made him appear so as well, but Toby was not more than five years Gill's senior. "Gill, this is my old friend Julius. Don't pay him any attention; he's harmless, but his ideas are not. Now come, come – we had better get started before my palette dries."

"Our dear Toby is quite right. Don't listen to a word I say," Julius purred.

Following Toby to the easel, Gill side stepped and sat down in the familiar arm chair. As he positioned himself under Toby's guidance, Julius chose the nearby sofa and sunk languidly into it. Gill watched him out of the corner of his eye. Julius seemed such an odd creature. Dressed in a hodge-podge of reds and purples, the man appeared to be a fashion disaster. But it worked for him. If anyone else wore a ruffled blouse with black pants, it would've been horrendous. Somehow, Julius Wotton pulled this look off. Even more unique than his fashion sense was the long purple hair that was streaked with gold and pink highlights. This man was a marvel.

"No. Something's not right," Toby sighed. He stood before his portrait in confusion and distaste.

"The fire's not on," Gill suggested. "It usually is."

"Ah! That's right! Thank you, Gill."

Toby went rummaging for matches and kindling in the kitchen. Julius took the opportunity to further 'distract.' "I didn't know Mayor Hamilton Gray had a son."

"Few do," Gill admitted sheepishly. "I've been keeping to myself. I only just came back from schooling this spring."

"An educated man, eh? You never cease to amuse me!" Julius said. "Now what is a lovely lad like you doing posing for Toby Hallward? Did he just sweep you up the moment you arrived home? How selfish of him. Can't really blame him though. I want to paint a portrait of you myself."

In a mixture of embarrassment at the flattery and befuddlement at how to answer him, Gill attempted directing the conversation back to Julius. "Toby said you have curious ideas. What does he mean?"

Julius let out a laugh and examined his cane as if it interested him. "Curious and curiouser. All ideas are curious, Mr. Gray."

"But Mr. Hallward – er, Toby – made it sound like you were a bad influence."

"An influence?" Julius looked up, eyes shining in the dark room. "Have you any idea what an influence is? What it means? Good or bad, it means giving yourself to someone else. So they can mold you. Form you. Some may say it has to do with trust, but I don't think so at all. You don't have to trust someone to be influenced by them. But being influenced is a dangerous thing, Mr. Gray. You won't be thinking for yourself under influence. You let someone else think for you. Filling your head with… curious ideas."

"Here we are!" Toby smiled, re-entering the living room. Under his arm was tucked an old newspaper and he had a box of matches in his hand. Stuffing the paper around the logs in the fire place, he quickly struck a match aglow and set the fire, tossing the match in. "There we go. Much better, I think. Not so dark and dreary in here…"

"We were just discussing influences," Julius struck up conversation. "I'm supposed to be a bad one."

"Yes, you are," Toby agreed, concentrating on his work.

"I don't think Julius is a bad influence," Gill argued.

"See, I've corrupted him already!" Julius teased. "No offense, dear Toby, but I hope Gill realizes he's wasting his time in this little town and moves on to bigger and better things. Did you know he's educated?"

"Yes, he just came back from school recently," Toby answered, only half-paying attention.

Julius went on. "If I were as young and good-looking as our lovely Mr. Gray, I would be enjoying life to the fullest."

"How does one do that?" Gill asked, turning to look at him.

"Don't move please, Gill," Toby reprimanded. Gill turned back into position.

"Lavish parties, expensive food, lots of friends, lots of women, lots of champagne," Julius rattled off a list. "Living life for its pleasures. Not wasting time in dark rooms with lonely artists and their portraits."

"Now, Julius—" Toby heard that last bit.

"Never mind me," Julius chided. "Just giving the lad some refreshingly hedonistic ideas. Probably never done a sinful thing in his life."

Gill straightened his back and attempted to look at Toby like he was supposed to. But the cogs in his mind were turning. Julius sat smiling at the ceiling, delighted at the prospect of a fresh experiment. Toby silently painted, filling in the gaps where color was due. But something was off. Something in his muse was wrong. Gill was… different somehow. "Gill, you look positively gone. Eyes back here, please."

"Sorry, Mr. Hallward," Gill apologized. "Just thinking…"

Toby nodded, but the problem wasn't remedied. There was a different expression now.

Ten minutes later, he couldn't take it anymore. Letting out a sigh, Toby said: "Julius, this isn't working. You're awfully distracting."

"Does he have to go?" Gill asked.

"I'm afraid that's my cue," Julius said, suddenly upon his feet. He slinked towards the door. "It's awfully late anyways. I've over-stayed my welcome."

Gill sprung up without thinking. "It is rather late. Can that be all for today, Toby?"

Disappointed, Toby smiled anyways, setting down his brush. "Yes, of course. Would it be too much of a trouble for you to visit again? It's almost finished. One more sitting should do it, I think."

"Oh, good! Yes, of course."

"Don't forget now."

"I won't," Gill promised, following Lord Wotton to the door. He grabbed his hat and coat without putting them on.

"You live with the Mayor, Mr. Gray, correct? Come, I'm going that way. We can walk together," Julius offered, much to the delight of Gill.

"Yes, sir!" Gill nodded, hoping to hear more of this stranger's strange ideas.

"Farewell, Toby! It's been a fabulous evening," Julius waved over his shoulder.

The door closed behind them. Crossing his arms, Toby stared forlornly at the portrait and looked pained. He knew it would mean trouble.