Clifford had made out during the derby.

A pocket watch, some sickles, an entire coin purse! Ten whole galleons richer. The drinks were flowing and people were having such a good time that they didn't seem to even recognize that their pockets were a little lighter. He’d come to make money, and while he hadn’t come with enough to bet with, he was certainly leaving with quite a few winnings. Maybe he’d take his sister out for breakfast - she’d been a brat lately, complaining that she was tired of his meager cooking, but it’s not as if he’d ever taken cooking lessons. He tried his best and neither of them had died yet. That was something.

Sitting in a random seat at the derby, the crowd roaring as a horse leapt passed another to win the race, Cliff admired the coin purse he’d picked up from an unassuming man. He’d been dressed a little nicer than someone who belonged with the working class, and his instincts had been right - Cliff was delighted with how heavy the coin purse was. If he didn’t take his sister out to breakfast tomorrow, he’d at least stop at a pub and have himself a few drinks tonight - he had enough money to have a handful and be delightfully buzzed by the time he made it home.

Plucking a few coins from the purse, he stood to make his way toward the stands to buy himself a drink, but someone else caught his eye. An object of sorts was sticking out from their person, and if they were just going to offer it to the world, Cliff might as well take it. Grinning, he stuck the coin purse deep into his own pocket as he jumped over a couple seats, calling out to them. “Hey! I think I know you from somewhere.”

---

Oz was here to watch the derby, along with a friend from the club and their wives. Sina wasn't much interested, but had taken up with the other woman to amuse herself, which left him with nothing to do but pay attention to the horses. The next race was about to begin and he had lazily retrieved the program from his pocket to see which he'd bet on for the next race when someone unexpectedly dropped into the seat beside him.

Oz leaned away from the man to take a better look at him: the cheap coat, the frayed edges on the cuffs, the cut of an untailored suit. He frowned. "I assure you you're mistaken."

---

Clifford hated the upper class. They were all the same - douchebags who thought they were important because someone in their family made one smart move with money well before they were born. It wasn’t as if they earned it, and as he eyed the man next to him as he leaned away, he knew he was just that. Old money who thought himself important because he’d been told he was his entire life. Cliff nearly rolled his eyes. He probably never worked a day in his life and would moan and groan the day he had to.

He matched the man’s frown as he leaned forward. His fingers inched forward toward the object sticking from his pocket, although not yet touching it - Cliff hoped it was going to be worth some money. “Sure I do. You’re the asshole I saw earlier who tried to flip up some poor lady’s dress. Enjoy the show, did ya?” He laughed loudly as his fingers finally made contact. "You think you'd be able to pay for a better show than what you got." His lips curved into an amused smile while his fingers strummed against his legs with his other hand.

“Or, maybe I saw you at the pub. Drunk off some fire whiskey a couple weeks ago?" He kept on talking without taking a breath. "Someone lookin’ just like you fell off a stool straight on his butt and I may owe you a drink because I haven’t laughed that hard, ever.” Cliff needed the man to be distracted before he tugged it free.

---

---

The gall of this fellow! Ozymandias angled himself to face him more fully (and in doing so, took the silver-plated cigarette case that the man had been targeting further from his reach, though Oz remained entirely unaware of that particular drama). Oz would never have engaged in either of the behaviors he was accused of — the epitome of classless gestures. He wasn't at all worried that anyone who had met him before would think otherwise, but he was quite annoyed that this man was accusing him of such things so loudly and publicly. He had his pride.

"You've made it very clear what quality of company you typically keep," he snipped. "Which has only further convinced me that we have never laid eyes on each other before now. If you'd be so kind," he said, making two quick sweeping gestures with his program as though the other man were a fly who might be swatted away. "I'd prefer you vacate this seat while there's still a chance your stench will follow you out."

He might have made a comment about the man's careless words and their potential impact on the gentle ears nearby, except that Sina wasn't enough of a lady to be bothered by crass words. He might have said so, just to rile her, except he didn't think she was listening enough to catch the jibe.

---

Well shit. Cliff narrowed his eyes as the man shifted away from him, the shiny silver object moving just out of his reach. He wiggled forward in his seat, his fingers creeping closer, although he paused to bark a laugh at this man. “Me? The company I keep is a hell of a lot better than the company you keep.” He'd wager most of his friends were better people than he was. As the man waved his program in some feeble attempt to get him to vacate the seat, Cliff couldn't help but laugh at him - he was like a cockroach. Hard to kill and impossible to get rid of.

Instead he tossed his arm around the chair behind the man. “Nah, I think I’m good. You’re pretty damn rude, ya know? You smell like absolute shit with whatever perfume you stole from your lady, but I wasn’t going to comment on that.” He wrinkled his nose for good measure. If this stranger was going to cast judgment on him - probably sound judgment, but still - he was going to toss it right back. He hated the upper class because they were snobs and thought themselves better than him.

---

---

If Oz thought that the lout's comment about smelling like shit was anything other than an attempt to be petty, he would have been concerned. He took pride in his cologne; it was one of his most successful inventions to date, and any indication that it was malfunctioning would have bruised his ego significantly. But it was just an insult for the sake of insult, Oz decided. He cast a disdainful glance back at the arm the other man had thrown over the chair.

"If I wasn't here with a party, I'd leave," he sniffed. "But as I wouldn't ask the ladies to relocate for your sake, I shall insist you back away — or I'll get the race organizers involved."

---

Cliff was almost certain he’d hurt the man’s feelings by telling him he smelled awful, and for that he puffed his own chest out with pride. It was a nice feeling being able to knock the upper class down a peg, even if it was just one rather than the masses. Taking an exaggerated look around before he finally turned his attention back toward the man, Cliff shrugged.

“Outside of the women behind you, who seem to be ignoring your existence, I don't see you with anyone. Are you lonely?” Clifford leaned forward as he made another grab for the object in his pocket - damn it better be worth a shiny sickle for all the work he was putting in! “‘Cause I sure as hell don’t wanna be your friend. Go ahead and get the race organizers. I. Don’t. Care.” He laughed then, showing him all teeth; he was fast at running and well, he knew how to escape situations he shouldn’t be in.

---

---

The other man was trying to call his bluff, apparently, but Ozymandias hadn't been bluffing. It meant nothing to him if some lout who'd been too bold by half spent the next few hours or even the next few days languishing away in the holding cells at the Hogsmeade Constabulary. What was law enforcement good for, if not to maintain the peace of the people who kept society spinning? They certainly hadn't been any help when there had been an actual crisis.

He shrugged as if to say well, your funeral and then raised an arm to wave down the attendant at the bottom of the stands. "Would someone please remove this lout?"

---

A frown touched his lips as the man actually… called the constabulary. It was a threat that Cliff didn’t think he’d actually follow through with, and for a moment he sat next to him, still frowning, as he contemplated his next time. The man was waving his hand and finally he growled softly, making one last grab at the item in his pocket because hopefully he’d walk away with something from this encounter other than assaulted nostrils.

Standing, Cliff hopped over the seats in front of him before he turned back toward the man. “You’re a snitch. And a fucking asshole.” He growled and as the constable neared him, Cliff cursed under his breath and took off into a run - he couldn’t afford to spend another day in jail. He didn’t think Imane would appreciate having to bail him out. Again.

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