5th December, 1895 — Blind Man’s Bluff, The Velvet Veil

“Some game, wasn’t that?” Nick said – light, friendly, and with the faint undercurrent of manic desperation. “What will you put those winnings to?” My money, he meant: and though he knew full well what the stakes of gambling were, had done it before (and would presumably do it again), he was nevertheless hoping against hope that the winner of his token – and with it more galleons than he could afford – would merely, miraculously, bestow it back to him now.

He hadn’t chosen the highest value table to play cards at, but nor had he gone for the lowest – there was simply no thrill or profit to be had in that. And perhaps Nick’s judgement had been mildly impaired by the cocaine high or however many cups deep he presently was, but in his earlier imaginings, he had not only won his games, but when the token values had been revealed, he had cashed out a ludicrously hefty, life-changing sum.

He was fine at cards, so all he had needed was a good bit of luck to see it happen... And naturally, he had had the worst. Probably the Veil was rigged, and half the players cardsharps. And Nick was sure he would have been able to swallow losing a galleon, but this – a lot more than that was to be pocketed by this damnable person at the end of the night. (That was, unless he could find a way to change that...)

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The following 1 user Likes Nick Blott's post:1 user Likes Nick Blott's post
   Diligent Grimshawe

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Barnabas Skeeter

It may have been silly—no, it was certainly silly—but ever since Barnabas had been challenged by Barnaby the ghost for faking having a special lady in his life (which had been an accurate statement), the Slytherin had found himself spending more and more time at the Velvet Veil than he ever had before. Perhaps it was the encroaching holidays... not that he had ever been particularly joyful during them anyway. It would be the first time without either of his parents, and he was certain that whatever gifts he ended up giving to the remaining members of his family, they would be ungrateful about it. As always.

It just so happened that he had appeared during the Blind Man's Bluff event at the club, which made him slightly more eager to be present. Even the trio of caroling drunks that had been as obnoxious as possible when he passed them by wouldn't dampen his spirits. No, tonight, he felt like, for once perhaps, luck would be on his side. And so he'd stopped by one of the bars inside the club (the one with the ridiculously large ornaments), only to discover that the bartender was feeling festive apparently, because the only drinks they were offering were something named the tinsel twister and the evergreen shot. Neither of which he wanted to brave after hearing stories about the Monster Melee event back in October. They were only five days into December, for Merlin's sake; it was far too early to be having anything yuletide-themed.

Finally, with a glass of whiskey that was not festive, he found his way to purchasing a token and to a table. He'd recognized the man sitting there immediately—they'd known each other since they were first years, having been classmates. Now, they were both neighbors and worked at the Ministry. So it was a bit awkward when the game had ended (and he'd won, somehow), and it was time to collect his winnings. Except Blott had gone suspiciously fidgety. Barnabas arched a blonde brow and studied the former Gryffindor by the firelight of the brazier on the wall behind him. Wasn't it usually considered rude to ask someone what they planned to do with their money? Not that they were in a polite establishment.

He'd let it slide for now. He'd just won a large sum off the man; it was the least he could do. Barnabas shifted in his seat, lifting his empty glass to signal to a passing house elf (who was wearing a wreath, he noted with a frown) to refill his glass. "I haven't decided yet," he replied good-naturedly, deciding that this unexpected reunion had turned out in his favor, "What would you do with it? Perhaps it was sheer humbug to ask such a question when he'd been partially offended at having received the same one, but it was all in good fun. Wasn't it?

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Barnabas walks with a cane • Set by the lovely Lady • plot with me

It was too much to expect Skeeter to be so wondrously magnanimous that he would nobly return the money, wasn’t it? Nick had never minded the bloke, but they had never been the best of friends (and never mind the kind of betrayal Ned, his actual former best friend, had made in life), so it seemed unlikely. Besides, Slytherins were always more self-interested than anyone.

Nick was almost surprised if Skeeter didn’t have grand plans for the money – it was a substantial sum. At least he had entertained the question, although it was rubbing salt in the wound slightly to have it back. Well, not lose it, first of all, Nick almost muttered, wishing he could turn back time to the start of their game. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m, ah, saving up for something rather important, actually,” he admitted, just in case Skeeter miraculously chose mercy. “So if you don’t need the sum for anything particular right now...” His eyebrows inched up, hopefully, [i]perhaps you might be inclined to give it back?

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