Whether or not she took his warning to heart, he didn't know. He felt obligated to share a little tid-bit of information with her because he respected her, as an artist and as a person, and of all students, it would be her and a few seniors he'd hate to see artwork stolen from most of all. Wolfgang was known for growing close with students, acting as more of a mentor than a professor to some, though usually those students who earned his praise were seniors… students who had endured even his most grueling instruction and came out the other end unscathed.
There was something about Franchesca that was notable. He couldn't quite put a finger on what it was, aside from her artistic talent, but there was an element deeper to it than that. Most of his students he esteemed as artists, and little more, but there was something about her personality he treasured above her talents. It was the only thing that caused him to answer the door when she knocked earlier.
Unlocking the door the art studio, Wolfgang swung it open and flicked on the lights. Franchesca's painting was where she'd last left it, leaning on the easel and looking mostly dry, except for a few of the thicker paint smudges. Mostly dry, the colors saturated into richer tones; the painting becoming all the more attractive for it.
"It still looks a bit wet," he mentioned idly. "You're welcome to it, but you can still leave it here another day, if you'd rather not transport a wet canvas."
Wolfgang proceeded straight to the teacher's desk in the back of the room and logged on to the computer. As it loaded, he looked at her. "I've been working with the IT department here on campus to help develop a student art catalog," he explained. "My first intentions with the program had been to amass digital copies of senior thesis projects, so the university will have a historical archive of works. It's been in process for some few months now, and it's recently been readied for submissions. To test it, your painting of Thom was the first to be put into the collection."
He sat down in the chair once the desktop fluttered to life and opened the program. It was a simple archival program with digital folders based on years, starting in 1996 and going well into the 2000s. As promised, in the 1996 folder was only one piece, digitalized copy of her painting.
"I thought you might appreciate being immortalized in the archives of the school." Wolfgang sat back in the chair to let her see. As he did, a pop-up dinged on the screen.
Wolfgang's eyes narrowed dangerously, hovering the mouse over the pop-up. "Do you know anything about this?"