Tavromachia {Open}

[Jacaranda Mulciber]

No time to stop and think. Better that way. Else she’d start falling into that hopeless pit of worry. How was Silas? Where had he been? All she knew was that he was injured but stable, and she’d be able to see him in due course. She was torn between hammering on whatever door he was behind and demanding to see him and gathering up all her stationary and fleeing.

Oh, Merlin, what was Silas going to think of her? No, no time for this. Scores was the priority here. She could answer for her mistakes later, or preferably not answer for them at all. Perhaps she might earn some brownie points by keeping Scores in order while Silas was indisposed. Maybe.

Stacking paper, sending it whirling around her office like soldiers performing neat drills at triple speed, she hunted for a certain piece. Frustrated that she had somehow misfiled it, she performed an accio charm. None of the sheets in her office came to her, but a second later a piece of parchment wiggled under the door and flew into her hands.

She skimmed it, and immediately made a swallowed sound of frustration in her throat. She stepped around the desk, swatting circling paper out of her way and slammed the door to her office behind her. The pricing report from the casino bar was half finished, and what had been filled in was complete nonsense. Who taught these idiots basic mathematics? This was going to skew her entire audit!

The staff corridor brought her out into the club not far from the bar in question, and people parted out of her away as if her mood had manifested into a visible dark cloud above her. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time. The nearest security guard practically jumped out of her way as the staff door almost hit him on the rebound.

She was yelling before she even stepped behind the bar. Generally Jac preferred to do her yelling in the sound-proofed safety of her office, not out in the casino where every wizard and witch in the vicinity could hear. But apparently she wasn’t exactly in her usual frame of mind.

Jac was vicious and undiscriminating about the staff members that caught the blade of her verbal attack. Several guests eased away from the bar to avoid the rampaging accountant’s tirade, and several security guards began to converge on the scene, but seemed conflicted on what to do when it seemed it was a senior member of staff causing the trouble, and the owner of the club was not available to give advice.

For the moment, nobody was willing to interrupt. Whoever made that mistake was sure to be doing the equivalent of waving a red flag at an enraged bull. A mostly accurate statement, ignoring the little detail of genders. She was dead set on mowing down anyone in her path, and if anybody did distract her and got gored, well, they had it coming.

[Dimitri Beklea]

There was always something going on in the city. At least, that’s what Dimitri Beklea had always observed. Every casino patron was almost guaranteed to have a story. The man himself was here not for the hopes of getting lucky, rather the inability to stand the solitude at home any longer. Being around other people made him feel less lonely, not that he went out of his way to talk or get to know anyone. For now he was perfectly content to watch the show.

Spinning around in his seat, he panned across the casino floor, thankful for the crowd. One of the major pains about his success in quidditch had been his loss of privacy, and in places like this it was very easy to lose oneself in the crowd. He wasn’t the gambling sort, but he certainly was the drinking type and there was nothing sadder than drinking by yourself. Taking a sip from his glass, he felt a twinge of home sickness for the comforts of family life. But you couldn’t have everything, and you certainly couldn’t have privacy, peace and quiet in a full family home.

The sound of distant thunder caused a number of the patrons to turn their heads, only this was no normal storm. A woman came marching into the bar yelling and screaming, sending those near by reeling back from her wrath. Well, you knew the old saying, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned right? Like many of his fellow bar-goers, Dimitri wore a suitably startled expression, wondering what on earth could induce such rage.

What was stranger was that no one lifted a finger to stop her rampage, and there was fear all over the employee’s faces, which was understandable. She looked too well dressed to be an alcoholic in a drunken rage – far too coordinated as well. It was rather obvious her mind was clear of intoxicating substances, though she definitely looked in need of a drink.

“Excuse me Ma’am,” he said uncertainly, afraid of fanning the flames. Hopefully being polite was the way to go in avoiding her wrath. “Are you alright?”

[Jacaranda Mulciber]

Jac turned on the speaker (it was surprising she’d heard him over her own voice) and narrowed her eyes bitterly. Recognition sparked in her eyes, and she snapped her mouth shut. They had it coming. Unless they happened to be a celebrity; a Quidditch champion no less. Tall, young, European accent. Jac read the news, and even if she didn’t watch the sport she recognised the man as the British team’s Seeker. Shit.

Shit.

Shit. Had she really just blown a gasket in public? In front of at least one famous (and rich) wizard? And who knew how many more of the surrounding patrons were wealthy and well-standing. Scores wasn’t exactly a layman’s hangout. And she had just thoroughly disgraced herself in front of them and potentially put a dent in the night’s earnings, and maybe the casino’s reputation. It was like a spash of cold water to the face, and it chased away the raging heat of her fury.

Jac took a breath to steady herself. Oh Merlin, she was unravelling at the seams. Si’s absence was getting to her more than she wanted to let on. She needed to calm down and rectify this.

The crowd began to twitter, and Jac left the shell-shocked bartenders to recover. She leaned down from the hips, picked an expensive bottle of wine from under the counter. Shooting a glare at the nearest bartender, she set the parchment she had been brandishing down on the mixing counter and meticulously filled in the receipt for the bottle, slipping it in the undersized pocked on her blouse for later.

She glanced to the young man, and reached for two wine glasses, cradling their stems between her fingers. She gestured for Beklea to meet her at the end of the bar, save wading through the onlookers herself. Now the crowds were back to their usual volume, it would be difficult to hear each other amongst them, and she had a lot of apologising to do.

It took him a moment to ease through the throng, and she waited patiently in a clear walkway beside the wall. It gave her nerves time to settle. It wouldn’t do to get out from such a well known celebrity that Scores was just a soap opera in progress. She caught her lip between her teeth, a nervous gesture. Her life was already crumbling away, she couldn’t bear to tarnish Score’s reputation too.

Beklea cleared the crowd, and her worries subsided for a moment as she gave him the onceover. First impressions: tall. Very tall. And handsome, if you were into the younger sort. Jac tended towards older men, but she could see the attraction. His clothes were understated but to the trained eye, good quality and likely expensive for it. She generally approved, and gave him a smile that was not completely false.

“I’m so sorry about that,” she began, eyes holding his for a moment before she looked away, “I’m not sure what came over me.” Stress, the culmination of facing the destruction of her relationships and career. Utter frustration at the mistakes of imbeciles. She held the wine bottle in the crook of her arm, and held out her free hand. “Jacaranda Mulciber, Score’s accountant. And I owe you more than an apology.” She nodded to the bottle of wine. “Join me?”

[Dimitri Beklea]

Dimitri’s concern for the woman and her apparent co-workers quickly turned into concern for his own well being as she turned to face him, fixing him with a narrow-eyed glare. Fearing retribution, he leaned back away from her, subconsciously reaching for his wand in case she tried to hex him. Fortunately, it was like someone flicking a switch and all of a sudden the rage evaporated from her features, causing Dimitri to breathe a sigh of relief.

Smiling uncertainly at the woman – who judging by the lack of action from security and the paper she’d been yelling at the bar staff about was a member of staff, and a high ranked one too – Dimitri relaxed his stance as people around glanced nervously over their shoulders and undoubtedly started whispering all manner of things that were most likely unkind. Eyeing the woman uncertainly again, he watched as she leant down to grab an expensive looking bottle of wine. So she was going for that drink after all. Heck, poor woman looked like she deserved it.

Curiously, she grabbed two glasses and gestured for him to follow her to the end of the bar, and Dimitri half smiled. A fine glass of wine – the perfect way to forget one’s problems and apologize for any you might have caused others. He still tried to maintain a low profile, which was easier said than done, as he stood and made his way through the crowd. Being his height didn’t exactly constitute ‘low’ in any way.

Slipping between two groups, he finally emerged at the end of the bar, meeting the woman’s warm smile. He much preferred it to being glared or yelled at. Considering she was raining a verbal hailstorm down on everyone in the vicinity just a few minutes ago, she was looking immaculately kept – not a hair out of place. It never ceased to amaze him how women could do that. Just another mystery of the female species he guessed.

“You’re obviously under a lot of stress,” he replied, smiling at her again. Though that statement might have been a bit of an understatement – she not only needed a good drink but a holiday too by the looks of it.

“Dimitri Beklea,” he said, shaking her offered hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss. Mulciber.” Accountant? It made sense – she was probably in charge of organizing their salaries, no wonder no one intervened. Making a sweeping gesture for her to lead on, Dimitri followed her up to a spacious lounge area that was obviously for more privileged guests. An overhanging balcony looked out over the casino floor below – over the card tables actually – with everything much quieter thanks to soundproofing.

Seating himself on one of the plush couches, he tried to arrange himself in such a way that he wouldn’t look terribly lanky. “This is a nice room you have up here,” he commented, attempting to avoid awkward silences. He had never been particularly good at talking to women – they usually laughed at things he said when they weren’t supposed to be funny. Compliments were supposedly the way to go. “Much quieter too.”

[Jacaranda Mulciber]

[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]Jac generally distained European accents, but Romanian was soft on the voice, and it suited the young man. Of course she already knew his name, but from first impressions, he did not seem the type to openly flaunt his status. Jac had learned to treat these more grounded individuals a certain way. They were uncomfortable being gushed over, but she would always keep her respect healthy for their achievements. After all, they had worked hard for it. She managed to quell her instant response to correct him. ‘Miss’ always sounded so... common. Jac preferred Ms., she generally referred to the strippers as ‘miss’. Beklea was spared the lecture since she was making the effort, and she led him through the casino and up to the lounge overlooking the card tables. Doormen let her through, raising their eyebrows at the high-profiled man she led in. They were far too impressed to ask the man for a pass. They sat in some merlot-red couches, a low coffee table between them. Jac leaned forward and set the two glasses on the table. An eager waitress glided over and picked up the bottle, deftly peeling the foil from the bottle top. A few seconds later and the bottle was opened and the waitress poured a little of the wine into each of the glasses for tasting. Jac picked up her glass with a nod, “This is our VIP lounge – I can arrange a pass for you if you’d like permanent access,” she replied, waiting as patiently as the hovering waitress for the man to approve the wine or otherwise. She sipped her own, moved it around her mouth a little and set the glass down on the table with a nod. Merlin, she could do with that drink.

[Dimitri Beklea]

Dimitri smiled in thanks at the girl who rushed in to open the wine that the accountant set upon the table. “I would very much like that, if it would not be too much trouble,” he replied, meeting Miss Mulciber’s gaze for a moment before reaching for his own glass. The burgundy liquid swirled around, emitting a faintly floral fragrance. Nice – very nice. Dimitri didn’t want to think what the wine might have cost.

Taking a small sip to taste, he pondered the flavour for a minute before swallowing. Looking up and realizing the other pair in the room were waiting for a response, he nodded hastily. “It’s divine; you have an excellent taste in wine Miss Mulciber.”

Pausing briefly, he tried not to cringe at the silence that ensued as the waitress hastily poured more wine into his glass. Growing up in a house where the noise was constant and near deafening, all the quiet that seemed to fill his new life left him longing for the comforting crash of a pan now and then. Murmuring thanks to the girl before she scurried away, he retrieved his glass and reclined a little more on the couch.

Eyeing the brunette accountant out of the corner of his eye, he wondered about what he should say next. Inquire about her outburst surely, but then he didn’t want to seem like he was being nosy. That was the dreaded reporters job. Still he had to say something didn’t he?

Pushing a few loose strands of hair back with his free hand, he sat up straighter again so as not to seem rude or disinterested. “Rough day at the office?”

[Jacaranda Mulciber]

[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_bg.jpg,true][atrb=background,http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v36/Tigeress/Random/postscripts/jac_foot.jpg][atrb=style,background-position: bottom; background-repeat: no-repeat; padding: 2px 30px 88px 150px; text-align: justify;]Jac picked up her glass, cupping her fingers around the bulb and gently swirling the wine. It clung slightly to the side, the colour slipping back down slowly to join the rest of the dark liquid. She watched it thoughtfully, glancing up briefly to meet the pitch dark eyes of the Quidditch player. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” she replied into her glass as she gook a generous sip. “Still, never mind about that. Nothing a good glass of wine and some unbiased company can’t fix.” Yeah. Right. “Please, call me Jac, ‘Miss Muliber’ makes me sound like I should be grading papers.” Though considering her company, he looked baby-faced enough to still be in school. Maybe if things didn’t work out when Silas returned, she could become an educator. On second thoughts, was working every day with snotty-nosed pimply-cheeked youths really preferable to poverty? Besides, she could very well be going to jail when Silas returned. She took a nervous sip of wine. No, she had too much to do to start thinking like that now. She smoothed down her skirts and leaned forward to set her glass on the table. “So Dimitri,” topic change, fast, “you’re a Quidditch player if I’m not mistaken? You’ll have to bear with me, I don’t often get the time to follow the sport. Is it out of season or...?” She was out of practice for making small talk. Recently her only verbal communication had been loud and demanding, not exactly a tone she wanted to inflict on Dimitri. She felt awkward, for lack of a less self-depreciating word. It wasn’t like sharing a drink with Silas. The conversation was precise and stilted, and she longed for the warmth of a fire and the comfort of a fabric sofa rather that the chilled leather of the VIP lounge seating. Jac dropped her gaze, seemingly intent on removing the lipstick mark from the rim of her glass with one thumb. The idea of the wine was to distract her from Silas, not to bring every single thought back to him. She remembered when a handsome young man would be a distraction from anything. Now she referred to them as ‘young men’ (which was depressing enough on its own), and they were no more distracting than a piece of expensive art on the wall. She should have recruited one of the strippers to sweeten him up and retreated back to the solice of her office. She wasn’t in the mindset to try and bolster the moods of others. It was a sweeping generalisation and sickeningly sexist, but men like Dimitri tended to respond better to less grounded women. Jac was reserved for a certain kind of man, and though the athletic celebrity across from her filled at least one criterion with his undoubtedly healthy bank balance, he was too young and timid to meet the rest. Flirting with him was the only way she thought she might repair some of the damage she’d caused - Merlin knew she could make any man believe she was interested if she put her mind to it - but since Silas... It was like some part of her was reserved, and he just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

[Dominic Spencer]

Idleness was akin to boredom-ness and happened to occur frequently when one was an immortal being. Compared to all the time interesting things occurred there was far more time spent doing nothing and looking for said interesting things to elevate the side effect of boredom. Unfortunately at that moment Dominic could foresee nothing to occupy his time in his immediate future so sitting around doing nothing was what he had been relegated to. Willow was off with that bigheaded professor from the school so there would be no lap dance with magical ribbons and Hogsmeade was starting to bore him. By now Dom would have moved on, the fickle creature he was but something, or rather someone, kept him tied to magical London and Hogsmeade.

Silas Rosier had saved his life at at time where he could do nothing but be helpless and so the vampire was in the wizard's debt. Silas Rosier was also missing and had been so for a reasonable amount of time. Any other time and any other person Dom would have used the unexplained absence as a means of running but wizards were still new to the boy. He had no way of knowing if by being in Silas' debt that whether or not his head would explode or his legs fall if he tried to run without repaying the man. So, instead of fleeing like every one of his instincts were telling him to, Dom milled around Scores looking for something to do.

Much to his amusement it had been discovered that the dhampir that had broken his foot worked in the strip club as a waitress and the thought to go pay her visit occurred to him. That was soon dismissed, she probably wasn't working and he'd get far too distracted in the strip club to talk to anyone, let alone a waitress who just so happened to be half a vampire. There was a bartender in the restaurant that was fun to torment but a quick glance at a nearby wall clock informed Dom that the gargantuan nutcase's shift wouldn't be starting for a few hours. Until then he'd have to settle with being bored, or did he?

Over the people trickling through the staff corridor outside one of the staff rooms where he lounged, the floppy haired vampire picked up a scent he'd come to know well. Silas' woman and she smelt angry. Silas wasn't here and Dom would be doing his defacto employer a favour by looking after his woman. Silently he followed her from a distance, admiring the way her ass looked as she stormed. He had to stop and flinch as she launched her tirade on the poor bartender; it assaulted his ears just as much as the poor fellow behind the bar's ears. Before he could step in and play the soothing comforter another man it seemed had the same idea.

No use interrupting the two, it would look far too much like he was trying to pull a move on her. Instead Dom sat himself in a booth with a bowl of crisps, watched and waited. He had nothing else to do so seeing where the exchange between the goofy looking kid and Silas' woman would be a way to pass the time. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd be obvious and she would slap him in the face.Then he could play the hero rescuing her from some jackass. Some foreign jackass from the sound of his accent. However, as the conversation progressed the stranger turned out to be more polite and cordial than sleazy jerk -Dom would have even gone as far to say they guy sounded like the suck up type. His compliment at the wine made the vampire wrinkle his nose and snort sceptically into his crisps.

The wine was probably awful. Call him old fashioned but women had notoriously bad taste in wine, not that Dom's own taste was any better. Cheap and nasty beer had been his poison of choice. Still asskissery would get the foreigner everywhere with a woman and if Dom didn't act fast he'd cock up a chance that had been served to him on a silver plater. Acting on impulse, the boy sauntered over to the pair's table with a serious look displayed on his face. "Excuse me, I hope I'm not interrupting. Ms.-" Shit what was her name? "M-M-Mulciber, I couldn't help but see you tear Richard a new one and I thought you'd want to know I saw him skimming money out the till as you walked away. I think he was doing it out of spite." Dom shrugged and tried to look concerned but not too concerned he'd come across as boyish. Careful consideration however would be futile if one thing didn't fall into place.

The success of his entire game hinged on whether or not he had gotten her name right.