She goes inside

"Out of curiosity, what's that?" Myka said, gesturing to the plaque.

Obliviously she turned to do so, flashing her ass to the inside of the shop.

"Oh, right," the owner said. "Bit of local history. This here building's old, way back when a painter used to live here. Still have some of his art inside."

Old, old was good. It was a start at least; why it was only active now was a question mark, but things had been weird before.

"Mind if I see?" Myka said.

"Feel free," the owner said.

Myka hesitated, surprised. People always seemed to think it was weird when a 'secret service' agent wanted to know about old objects, it was refreshing to have someone helpful for a change.

"Come in," he said. "I'll just fetch them from around the back."

Myka nodded, and followed. She faltered for a moment on the threshold, made sure both her purple gloves were on, then nervously crossed inside.

Public nudity, even just as a concept, had always embarrassed her. There was no way she was going to take any chances with this artifact; she ducked under the doorframe, and then was led to the chair by the window.

New looking chair and cushion, ought to be fine. Myka nodded gratefully at the offered seat.

"Just wait here," the owner said. "Want anything to drink?"

"I'm fine," Myka said.

"Then I'll be back," the owner said.

He left, and Myka sat back, oblivious to the fact that anyone looking in from the street would now see her as naked. She only idly paid attention as a few of the coffee shop's guests hurriedly paid and left, slowly walking by the shop.

They were taking photos too. Curiously she looked around; she did like the rustic aesthetic, she'd admit. Maybe it was worth a photo.

Unaware that her chest was bare and in full view, Myka waited patiently. The owner took a little longer than necessary to return.

Myka's eyes widened when she saw the portraits.

"That's a... lot of nudes," she said.

The owner shrugged, putting three of them side by side against the wall, in front of Myka. She craned forwards slightly to look.

None of them bore any resemblance to the women in the photos, but it was a definite connection.

"He was one of those artists who only did one thing, but wanted to do it was well as he could," the owner said.

"So I see," Myka said.

"Story goes, he got so could he could paint an accurate nude even if the model was clothed," the owner said. "Caused a bit of a scandal."

"Do you have anything else from him?" Myka said. "A- I don't know, but anything?"

"A few bits and bobs," the owner said. "Not really worth much to be honest. Not really a big name. Paintbrushes, easels that probably go back that far..."

That was... a lead. A pretty good one too, tying the location where all the photos had surfaced with an artist with a propensity for nudes. That was as solid as proof got.

"I'll get back to you," Myka said. "Mind if I wait here? My partner should be visiting soon."

"Of course, she's as welcome as you," the owner said.

"Thanks, he'll be glad, and he probably will take you up on the offer of a drink."

"Oh," the owner said, slightly disappointed. Still, he nodded.

Myka waited in her seat, stretching back slightly as yet more people passed by outside. Wait, hadn't that person gone by earlier?

Shrugging it off, she pulled out her Farnsworth, the communication device issued to all Warehouse agents, to call Pete. Trying to be surreptitious, she turned away from the interior of the coffee house and faced the window,unaware she was just giving a better view of her tits.

"Hey, Myka," Pete said. "No sign of the plaque at the gallery, but I heard-"

"Don't worry, it's just outside the coffee place," Myka said.

"Wait, seriously?" he said.

"And it gets better," Myka said. "It marks the home of an old artist who drew a lot of nudes. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I think so," Pete said. "Be there in five!"

Myka shut off the device, pocketing it again, before shifting and waiting. After a few minutes she stood up, idly perusing the shelf of objects by the wall, careful not to touch any of them. Nothing screamed artist to her.

And that was how Pete found her, stark naked and stood up, ass in full view of the street outside. His eyes widened.

Hastily he knocked on the glass; as much as he might appreciate the sight, he was rather aware that Myka would want to know.

She turned, now giving her partner a full-frontal eyeful. Why was he waving like that?

"Come in," she mouthed, gesturing to the door.

He shook his head frantically, then waved his hands at her. Bewildered she looked down; she was still in her normal suit, what was he talking about?

She looked up, frowning in incomprehension at him, making a gesture similarly, arms spread out.

Then he pulled out his Farnsworth, and turned it around to face her; the video feed was currently black. Baffled Myka reached for her own, startling Pete when it seemed to be pulled out of nowhere, and activated it.

And there, on the grainy footage, relayed through Pete's, she suddenly became completely aware of just how it was she looked to the street outside. Myka suddenly screamed, dropping the Farnsworth in her hurry to clutch her arms over what to her seemed like a clothed body.

Oh god, how god, why was this happening, how long had she looked-