October 26, 1895 — The Velvet Veil, London
Matty V. Eventide
Once again, his family had become overly oppressive, with passive-aggressive questions and outright demands that he find a nice young wife who could pop out their first child as soon as possible. As far as he was concerned, Matty was a confirmed bachelor—though he did prefer the term ‘spinster’ personally. If his family hadn’t caught on to his inclinations by now, there truly was no hope for them (especially considering that the majority of them were seers.) Whenever it became too much, he’d stay at The Velvet Veil for a few days. Something far more dramatic was bound to happen for the Eventide family, and he’d be free of the nagging for just a little bit longer.
The timing of his arrival to the club was so perfect he could have claimed he’d had a vision for it. (He hadn’t, but still.) The club was hosting a Meet Market for men with preferences that matched his own, which meant that there were plenty of attractive potential love interests out this evening. By the time the main event had wrapped up, he’d met two people he was interested in getting to know better. Unfortunately for him, they’d had the same idea—and off they’d gone together to a private suite.
Now he sat at the upscale bar in the members area, nursing a drink and doing his best not to feel dejected. (Thus far, it wasn’t working.) It was then that one of the little flying messages fluttered over and landed in front of his drink. He reached for it curiously, though just as he went to open it, he was rudely interrupted.
The timing of his arrival to the club was so perfect he could have claimed he’d had a vision for it. (He hadn’t, but still.) The club was hosting a Meet Market for men with preferences that matched his own, which meant that there were plenty of attractive potential love interests out this evening. By the time the main event had wrapped up, he’d met two people he was interested in getting to know better. Unfortunately for him, they’d had the same idea—and off they’d gone together to a private suite.
Now he sat at the upscale bar in the members area, nursing a drink and doing his best not to feel dejected. (Thus far, it wasn’t working.) It was then that one of the little flying messages fluttered over and landed in front of his drink. He reached for it curiously, though just as he went to open it, he was rudely interrupted.



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