[ He nods his agreement after her observations -- though to be entirely frank, the painting means nothing to him. The colors are nice, sure, and he guesses it's kind of sad -- but to put it in a gallery? He feels like it's the sort of thing he'd see in a swanky hotel room, instead.

That she doesn't seem to recognize him, at first, doesn't surprise him. He's always been very careful about modulating his voice when he's putting on an act -- in much the same way she has, evidently. And color him surprised, that a thief, even one as renowned as Kasumi Goto (in the circles that matter, anyway), should feel the need to even have an act. It's probably what makes her the best in the galaxy, he supposes.

Peter tilts his head, lips pursed thoughtfully. ]

Rather melancholy. [ Evidently John Rogers is a soft spoken man; as full to the brim as the castle is with party-goers, the gallery is hushed, conversations quiet and murmured. His voice carries easily. ] Almost like a storm.

Granted, I've always been decidedly poor at analyzing paintings. [ He offers her a small, sheepish smile. ] Always seem to get it a bit wrong, I'm afraid.