Babylon

The tarmac that wound through Alexandria like a snake was still hot to the touch from earlier in the day when the sun was high; bathing its light over a willing, wanton land. The water seemed to run thicker and cooler that day, each droplet a blessed relief from the relentless heat. Even the thinnest lines of shade became prized land that day and as the sun blistered across the sky, sinking beneath the hills that rose up behind Alexandria, the humidity set in, pushing people off of the streets into the safety of their air-conditioned homes like insects retreating beneath rocks. But for those that did not wish to return home to their nagging wives or insolent children, there was always Shaabam’s.

The tall, wide-set building had the facade of a restaurant. “Shaabam’s” was thrown across the front, above the large, gold-coloured revolving doors in script of a similar shade. Palm trees were dotted either side of the sand-brick paths that lead from the car park and the main road around a colossal fountain that seemed to explode with water when it first springs into life in the late afternoon, signalling that Shaabam’s was open for the reason men and women alike slunk through the doors after dark. For the comfort of the police, the establishment was a mere restaurant, popular with families, businessmen, couples, friends and singles alike. It was when one gained entrance beyond the restaurant that the market narrowed and the true nature of Shaabam’s was revealed.

From the upper balcony of his treasured establishment, Aaron Shaabam watched as his prized girls frolicked on the stage below, inviting up willing patrons that were eager for a chance to touch where they had previously been denied. A small smirk pressed on Aaron’s lips as he watched the girls cavort with men that were easily double their own ages. Those that weren’t performing were masquerading as waitresses, carrying around rectangular trays that were tinted in the gold that seemed to be the theme of the place on the very tips of their fingers. The lower floors were for those who weren’t considered important enough to gain access to the upper deck – which loosely translated to: ‘they didn’t pay enough’.

Aaron kept his friends and associates on the upper decks where they would enjoy their own private shows. He recognised many familiar faces among those that were frolicking with his girls. Many had already disappeared behind the doors that lined the back wall but there was a circle of businessmen in the centre seated comfortably in the wonderfully upholstered seats that had cost Aaron far more than any of them would care to entertain. As directed the girls fawned over them, smiling with glee once they managed to ply the men into following them to the rooms. The upper deck was bustling with activity, that much was sure, and even Aaron himself had company – the company of his favourite, the little Greek girl he’d known since she was eleven: Maia Papadopoulos.

The woman beside him was pressed close to his larger frame, his arm tight around her waist. His eyes were straying, as were the eyes of all of those that entered, and once or twice Maia had caught him staring at the figure that puberty had supplied her with. Her gaze had met his yearning each time and she’d smirk at him before reaching up onto her tip toes to whisper her promise to attend to him that night. Aaron would merely press a kiss to her temple in response, knowing full well that Maia would not be attending to him for a long, long while. And rightly so. Maia had bigger and better places to go. He had his eye on a pretty blonde that one of his associates had sold him. Swedish, originally, apparently. No, he wanted more for Maia than just being his mistress – both because he was bored of seeing her day and night but also because he knew she couldn’t stay with him forever. So he was being both selfish and vaguely charitable, which overall made his intentions good.

“I have someone I’d like you to meet, my darling,” Aaron whispered in Maia’s ear, slowly and deliberately, knowing that over the music Maia would have trouble hearing him, her lack of understanding alone a trial enough without the music involved. “A friend. I think you’ll like him.”

Augustus prided himself on his priorities. Well, at least he prided himself on his organisational skills. A long time ago, as it did felt so to the middle-aged man, those skills allowed him great performance at the Department of Mysteries. How he managed to stay so long undetected when he was literally lifting bouts of information off from the department to the Dark Lord, still remained a mystery to a trial that had given up countless failed attempts to obtain the full story. It was fine, for them. After all, they had sufficient evidence to put Augustus in Azkaban. Obviously, the man's self-affirmation had stretched a little too far. Like father like son, the ego was ever so eager to be stroked. So Augustus took time to be at Kendall's graduation, and a little more after to spend quality time of ever nurturing and moulding his son into the perfect image of himself. Only after that did the man took off on the bit of independent tour that he had planned for himself. There were endless places to be at, things to see, and women to shag, away from the presence of Rookwood family members, including his wife.

It was the turn of June to July that Augustus found himself in Alexandria, Egypt. Unlike Kendall, he favoured the heat more than the cold, which explains the tan of his skin, something of which he could maintain by travelling to tropical parts of the world more frequently than Cordelia would like her husband to. Still, even for someone who enjoyed the heat, the heat from the day's sun was more than he could love. Making his way to one of his favourite establishments in this part of the world, Augustus was decked out appropriately to keep the heat from posing a downer to his mood.

The acquaintance with Aaron Shaabam stemmed from the Rookwood family business. Raghnall had tasked Augustus with the diplomatic progression between the two families. While it was the Shaabams that were important business to the Rookwoods initially, the latter's interest in Middle-Eastern investment estate ensured an upper-hand in the relationship. Aaron Shaabam was expecting Augustus Rookwood. A deal was discussed by post that would preferably be concluded in person, on Shaabam's territory. Dealings with the Rookwoods was important to ensure more to come in the future, and certainly to even the losses in a recent failed project. A woman had been sent by Aaron to charm the Englishman with decent beauty and sufficient reverence. She introduced herself as Farah, making sure that her blouse revealed enough of what she was instructed to, and to do it subtly and professionally. She was, after all, not hired to be the sort of girls that the establishment was notorious for. Smug, Augustus allowed himself to be led into the supposed VIP room.

Augustus warmed to the lights that were played around to lend the place the sensual feel that he enjoyed, though not more than the exotic girls that the establishment was known to boast of. Having only been here once before, the man allowed himself to be led and served like the special man he believed himself to be. Once settled, he sipped the bit of champagne from the glass that he was offered, as he allowed his eyes to roam freely between the parts of the bodies of women that he liked. Eager to please, a couple of the performers gathered to the part of the stage that was nearest to him, as they began to compete for his attention. Augustus lapped it up, of course. The man smirked and watched, before turning to accept the cigar that Farah had offered him. He was terribly unconcerned with meeting Aaron. Augustus turned and allowed Farah to light up for him, winking at her in return for the favour, as if the little gesture was what he thought was reward enough for her service to him.

First and foremost, Aaron Shaabam was a businessman. The world knew it. He allowed people to see what they wanted in order to maintain the wealth he’d come into. When he deemed it necessary he would show a united front with his family, with his wife and sons. Rare was it though, for him to do so. He preferred the seediness of the club in which he stood. He preferred watching the women strut around like peacocks in shoes that were far too tall for them, feathers attached to their heads and dresses. He preferred striding down the hallway observing that all of the doors had their handles covered by varying pieces of headgear. He was to live and die in the establishment, this he knew. He loved it too much – much more than he ever would his family, as sad as it was.

It was from the upper deck that Aaron observed the entrance of Augustus. He watched with thinly veiled amusement as the man moved across the club. He watched with eagle eyes as Farah swept in expertly, sashaying in the insufferably sexy way she did, before leading him up to the deck above. Aaron returned his eyes to the stage as the girls expelled the men from the surface and returned to dancing for them, once again out of reach. His arm around Maia’s waist tightened, allowing him to tug her closer to him. Aaron’s fingers crept beneath the soft, silken material of the plunging, ivory coloured dress, the soft pads of his fingers beginning to rub small circles into the skin above her pelvic bone. Her eyes flicked up to meet his and he smiled indulgently before taking a sip of his drink.

Farah disappeared out of sight once she had supplied Augustus with his cigar. Once she reappeared on the lower level of the club Aaron knew it was time to make his grand entrance. He took his hand out from beneath Maia’s dress and stepped away from the woman, pressing her away from him with a slight touch to her back. She looked up at him, her bright blue orbs wide with misunderstanding. Aaron appraised her for a moment before gesturing with a light wave of his hand to the table where Augustus was sat alone. Maia turned briefly, her eyes losing their saucer-like appearance. She brought her rouge-coloured lips together and blinked briefly at Aaron before swivelling herself around and crossing the room to where Augustus was seated.

Maia understood what Aaron had intended and so once she arrived at the table slipped elegantly into the seat opposite Augustus. She sat up straight, not allowing herself to fold into the soft leather of the chair. Her lips curled upwards into a wry smile and she ducked her head a little with embarrassment before lifting her gaze to look at the elder man through her eyelashes the way one of the other girls had taught her to years before. Though she was far from relaxed, Maia felt confident in the presence of the strange man, as if what he exuded had passed onto her somehow. But it was the hands that fell to her shoulders that gave her the most confidence and when Aaron spoke she was buoyed by his words.

“Isn’t she beautiful, Augustus?” He smiled indulgently at the girl that had not twisted to look at him and moved to the side of the chair in which she was sat. “Just like I said. A gift for you, my friend. Providing, of course, you sign the document.” Aaron produced a folded piece of paper from the breast pocket of his blazer and dropped it onto the table in front of Augustus before reaching over to press a light kiss again Maia’s neck. The girl rolled her shoulders back slightly, her fingers twitching from where they were laid in her lap. Aaron chuckled, the sound a gentle hum in his chest, and brought his eyes back to Augustus. “A rare catch, this one. Priceless. No one would be able to purchase her. It is your lucky day my friend.”

The Rookwoods dabbled chiefly in real estate for Wizarding purposes. The cooperative that Shaabam desired, however, was meant to play with something far more delicate, and certainly far more illegal than usual shady business that the Rookwoods were accustomed to. The potential that brimmed from the possible deal was immense, even as the risk could conclude it all in catastrophe. Even with his tendency to jump at opportunities, Augustus had chosen to play the card of caution. Entrusted by his father, the man had maintained the sort of balance one should assume - a begrudging interest to mask a risky enthusiasm - as if he could prove his reliability in doing so. Of course, he didn't count on the craftiness of an old friend. Aaron was always quick to discover the buttons to push and the weaknesses to exploit. It was no wonder that the Shaabam business seemed to be doing far better than it was under his own father's handling.

Augustus hadn't counted on the strange woman who dominated his attention as soon as his eyes caught sight of her, sat herself down, and who effectively got him even without a hello. Well, of course the man wasn't in love. No, he loved Cordelia (at least he was still convinced of that). Besides, he didn't have time to waste on that sort of love, really. Still, she got enough out of his attention to pose a threat to whatever that was coming next. The voice that took his lusty gaze away from the young woman wasted no time. His eyes shot to the piece of paper that Aaron had produced, returned to linger at a fantastic curve on the girl's body, before shifting back to eye the paper with a wary look that was slightly shaken from its original intention. Augustus smirked.

"No chance for a breather? Oh, do sit down. One would expect that you would at least allow an old friend, not to mention, a client, some time, before pouncing on him in this manner." His eyes couldn't stay away from the girl for long. "You, however, haven't lost your good eye." Augustus smirked and nodded approvingly. "However," he picked up the glass of verte absinthe that was set down for him, sniffed it, and sipped at it. "Help me out here, Shaabam." With the glass in his hand, Augustus inclined the tip of it towards the direction of the girl. "I don't understand. Are we mixing women and business now?" He took another sip. "Don't get me wrong, I like women with anything. It's always a pleasure ... well, some of them." He sneered at the memory of the ones who interfered with his plans in the past. "But I'm not quite sure I favour the combination you're laying out for me now." A leer at her again, then back to Aaron.

"You're not being fair to me, Shaabam." And then slowly and deliberately. "Rare, indeed." Then, mockingly business-like, Augustus adjusted his blazer and sat slightly more upright. "Well, elaborate to me the terms of this condition, then. "I'm offended to be affronted with such a persuasive tool." A smirk again. "But I can't say I'm not impressed ..." Augustus smacked his lips together. "So, why should I be convinced?"

A challenge was something Aaron boasted to enjoy far more than his friends and associates and when a deal concerned Augustus Rookwood there would always be a challenge involved. Of course, naturally Aaron wasn’t one to play by the rules – hence Maia – but more than anything he enjoyed unsettling Augustus. Aaron pressed his fingers gently against Maia’s shoulder and she rose obediently, a smile bringing her lips upwards, mirroring the motion of her body. She slipped out from the space between the chair and the table and sailed past Aaron; taking her place next to Augustus in a chair that had been conveniently moved by one of the girls that had been entertaining the businessmen. She lowered herself elegantly into the soft leather and crossed her leg left over her right, the thin material of her dress slipping back revealing a generous amount of thigh to the world. Aaron reminded himself mentally to avert his eyes. He may have been eager to move on from Maia but he still couldn’t help himself around her – she made him feel somewhat like a teenager again even though he wouldn’t dare allow her to harbour that knowledge.

Aaron cleared his throat and allowed a brief smile to cross across his face before lifting his hand aloft and taking the tray of one of the passing waitresses a cocktail of some description that he daren’t try to imagine the contents of and a Martini. He handed the former to Maia who took a brief sip before leaning forward to place it on the table between the three of them. Her hair slipped from her shoulder and Aaron’s eyes followed it momentarily before he reminded himself once again that it was rude to stare. He lifted his eyes back to Augustus and appraised the pair of them side by side, allowing himself to lounge back into the willing fabric of the chair.

“There. Aren’t you a picture together?” He said smoothly, waving a way most of what Augustus had said with a small flick of his fingers. “I’m not a patient man, Augustus, you know that. I thought she might help warm you to this little idea your father and I had. Think of her as a ‘thank you’ present. Thank you for doing business with me. Thank you for visiting. Thanks for coming, come again. That sort of thing. Besides, she no longer has a place here,” Aaron ignored the look of alarm that momentarily lit up in Maia’s eyes. “If you want to think of it as anything else, think about it as a favour to me. I have no reason to keep her, I’m sure you’ll make good use of her. How’s Cordelia, anyway?”

Aaron laughed and shook his head at his old friend. Maia’s shifted a little in her seat, unsure and unable to squash the feelings of betray that were humming painfully in her stomach. She swallowed and lowered her gaze back to her hands in her lap as Aaron began to speak again.

“She does this fabulous thing with her tongue,” He replied off-handily. “Very obedient. Can’t speak a lick of English. You could tell her she’s a stupid bint and she wouldn’t know. Just say it with a smile and she’ll return it, won’t you darlin’?” Aaron flashed the smile he’d talked about at Maia and she returned it briefly before averting her eyes, the tone of his voice unsettling her more than she was willing to admit. “You’re not being cheated, Rookwood. You get her as a parting gift, for goodness sake! You’ve just got to know how to work her. I assume you’re not that old that you can’t remember how to handle a defiant woman are you?” Aaron raised his eyebrows suggestively. “She doesn’t like you. Isn’t fond of old men. I guess you’ll just have to make her see. I mean, if it’s too much for you...your whelp of a son can try her on for size.”

It was an age old method, really, but the right women used always worked. Well, almost. Clearly though, Augustus was not heading towards becoming an exception. It hardly bothered him, though, the fact that his resistance was hardly what it could be, or even what it was, when compared to other situations and even in times past. He had believed himself semi-retired with any task that involved him actually going forth to do the dirty work, or to be delegated to carry out a plan that was not part of his masterminding. In truth, though, he had become lazy. Years of hiding in Rookwood Manor, advised by his father and under the guise of resting, had birthed a trait that he never did embrace, voluntarily or involuntarily, in his youth. Now, though, he had become complacent.

Augustus smirked and glanced lazily at what Aaron's girl had to offer. He didn't need much convincing to call her his - his object, not his woman - something of which ran through his mind in a flash, though as clear as day. The man shook his head despite the clear amusement of satisfaction on his face at Aaron's first words. That is, until he got to the end of the other man's attempt at persuading him. "Aaron, Aaron. You are a businessman, and I respect you for that. No doubt, the business my father might be interested to take up with you is intriguing, even personally, to me. Still, I have been instructed to exercise my discretion about its sensitivities. Right now, though, I don't believe that even my father would be pleased at taking what you don't need anymore." Augustus allowed himself to study the curves of the girl once again at a pause, before returning to observe some semblance of courtesy in keeping an eye contact with Aaron.

"Am I to be convinced of a deal by taking a girl that no longer has a place at your establishment?" Augustus shook his head. "You charm lacks reason, sometimes, my friend." He stole a glance at the girl before returning it again. "Still, I'll take her." He sat up. "However, it will still not be done on Rookwood expense. The responsibility of this, if discovered, falls on the Shaabam name. That," He paused to retrieve his own sheet of paper from his blazer top. "is the ONLY deal that the Rookwoods will accept. The investment is yours, the job is ours, the profits are equal, the responsibility is yours. That, signed on this contract that our lawyer has drawn up, is our final and only offer. And with this, my friend, you get your business." Augustus leaned back, rested both his elbows at the side of his chair, and brought the tips of fingers together and close to his lips. He smirked at Aaron. "It is rare that the Rookwoods should even embark on such a venture with anyone else. You, however, we have greatly esteemed. We are no less than you ... yet, I have made a personal journey here, and not vice versa. I, however, take no offence ..." He directed a look to the girl, "thanks to your generous gift, which I will use well, indeed, with appreciation, of course." A wink, and then a look to Aaron.

From where she was sat, Maia shifted uncomfortably, her gaze shifting between her periphery where she observed Augustus to the creature before her that took the form of Aaron Shaabam. She could not quite wipe the betrayed, doe-eyed look from her face even though her resolve told her to do so. She wrung her hands together desperately in her grasp as she looked for words in her mind that she could use to voice her displeasure at being abandoned with a strange man as Aaron intended. Her lips parted and she made to say something but fell silent as Augustus’ voice cut across her. It was only then that she realised she had nothing to say at all; never mind the fact she didn’t know what to say.

Aaron observed her coolly, noticing her upset. He took a sip of his drink and gestured for Maia to do the same though she made no move to do so, she merely stared at him, her dark eyes boring into him, forcing him into acute awareness of her displeasure. Aaron smiled; his expression a facade of sympathy, before dragging his eyes back to Augustus who he had largely ignored through his monologue. Aaron raised dark eyebrow before clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, pretending to be deep in thought. He dropped himself lower into the chair and lifted his legs up onto the table. He pressed the sole of his shoes against the table and quirked a challenging eyebrow at Maia who licked her lips, her face contorting with regret not a second after, and shrunk back into her chair.

Glancing at Augustus, Aaron merely shrugged his shoulders in response. “Come, come now, Augustus. I thought we’d cleared this messy business up. You’re not having your leg pulled; surely dear old Dad knows that?” Aaron’s eyebrows lowered from what seemed like an eternity at a great height on the plain of his forehead. Aaron sat forward a little, lifting the sheet of parchment off of the table. He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth again and tipped his head to the side, mildly irritated that things had not moved quite as he’d wanted them to. His eyes skimmed the page, desperately uninterested in what he was reading. “It’s a wonder you Rookwoods don’t get sick of each other,” Aaron commented airily. “All in each other’s business, how very tedious. Anyway, I’ll accept your terms.”

Aaron leaned forward, a fountain pen appeared out of seemingly nowhere in his hand and he threw his signature across the page in a careless scribble. He dropped the pen on top of the page, smirking a little at the way the ink spat out a little blob onto the sheet. Aaron then sat back in the chair and gestured to Maia.

“So, will you stay for another drink or you will be enjoying my little trinket? She hasn’t completely lost her place here, friend. She’s just worth more. Shame I’ve given her to you, really.” Aaron shrugged non-commitedly. “Regardless, I have somewhere to be.” Aaron rose from his chair. “Enjoy,” he encouraged, before departing, leaving his drink behind.

Augustus held the top of his glass with the tips of his fingers, and began to twirl it gently. He then brought the glass to his lips and took a more substantial drink of his absinthe. Now that he was more confident about his end of the deal being cut, the man allowed himself more of the alcohol that still burnt the tongue that tasted it, and the throat that had to deal with its passage into his body. He enjoyed it, though not as much as upper-hand that he did not allow to be wrenched from his end of the bargain. He watched Aaron as his tongue moved inside of his mouth, still tasting the strength of the alcohol, pleased with himself.

Augustus smirked as the other man began to scan the parchment that his father had prepared personally. That was Old Raghnall for you. He was never a man that trusted anyone else. No, not even his sons. Even after years of trusting his business to the Rookwood personal lawyer, Percy Wakefield, he still insisted on drafting ever single business document with his own hand. Percy had given up on attempting to do more than sit and talk to a long-winded man who was overtly paranoid that everyone was simply plotting the downfall of the House of Rookwood. It was simple, really. Percy was paid to sit and listen, and then to only speak about his opinions and legal advices at the very end. No one else was interested, no other Rookwood at least, in sitting through the dreary sessions in Raghnall's study.

"I will inform my father of your compliments to his business," Augustus began, then chuckled. Then, he leaned forward and offered a hand again, this time to seal the deal with a gesture. "Always nice doing business with you, Shaabam. Very, very ... nice." That said, as his eyes moved impatiently now to the girl that Aaron had failed to introduce him to her name, but certainly had done well to introduce the display of her. The man then stood up in required courtesy, nodded, and continued. "It is with great honour that I accept your gift, my friend. I will see to it that our business runs on smoothly." Augustus smirked, then nodded again before turning his attention now to the girl. Smiling indulgently now, he leaned towards her and offered his hand. "Rookwood, as you may have noticed. I'm sure you've heard about our family." Said confidently, without knowing how little the girl knew about other parts of the world. "In any case, that was family business. As for you, you are mine." He chuckled. "And I, am Augustus Rookwood. Come with me." He gestured to leave, turned and nodded for her to follow. And then, turning again but leaning closer this time, "I will show you my world."

***

Back in the hotel suite near Shaabam's establishment, Augustus walked in first and began to take off the stuffy blazer that he had put on for what he believed was necessary to make business. Loosing the top buttons of his shirt, he walked to the mini bar, poured some absinthe again for himself, and then turned to look at the girl, who he had expected to follow in after. "Drink?" He enquired, but turned and went ahead to pour her a share too, assuming that she should drink absinthe with him, despite the strength of it. With two glasses in his hands, Augustus turned to walk to the balcony. Setting the glasses down, he then turned to settle into one of the chairs. Lifting a box that was left on the table, Augustus retrieved the half-smoked cigar and lit it. A drag of it, and he turned and twisted to look at the girl. "Well, come on, what are you waiting for? Sit, and have a drink." Another long drag was taken and Augustus watched the clear of the Mediterranean sea, a panoramic view of it that the suite offered. Satisfied, he took another drag and then turned to the girl.

"Well, are you going to introduce yourself?" He smirked. "Don't be shy. What's your name? Where do you come from? What do you like?" He waved the cigar in his hand. "Go on."

Though her comprehension of the exchange had been limited, Maia had understood enough to grasp the fact that she no longer had a place in Shaabam’s. She swallowed hesitantly, her eyes lifting in search of Aaron, in search of reassurance. The optimism soon left her flushed face as she set eyes on Aaron. He was leaning over one of the dancers that had shimmied and swayed earlier on – a buxom blonde that Maia could only dream about competing with. Maia averted her gaze when the blonde rose from the barstool she’d been seated upon, having seemingly accepted Aaron’s offer. She knew where they’d go, too. He’d lead her through the plum purple double doors that were obscured by golden drapes. He’d dance her down the corridor after him before leading her into his suite where he’d ravish her as he’d done dozens of other girls before; as he’d done Maia. It dawned on the girl then just how distant she now was. There was one thing she’d always been able to count on and that had been Aaron’s lust for her. Now, even his desire had deserted her. What was there left to do?

Maia gave a small, shuddering sigh and lifted her gaze to the man who now had her in his possession; or at least something like that from what she’d gathered from the conversation between Aaron and Augustus. Maia swallowed, hard. Maia dropped her eyes to the hand the man extended and it took her a moment or two to search for the custom popular with men in the west before she slipped her hand into his far larger one. She did not know much about the customs of introduction, especially those that were from Britain. In Greece people exchanged kisses. In Alexandria no one ever really said ‘hello’ to her, or exchanged names with her, or attempted to get familiar in any way on a less than physical level. There was no room for chit-chat, the men wanted their money’s worth. She realised that the situation that now presented itself to her warranted an introduction and when the man told her his name she found herself wishing she could vocalise the same.

His words were muddled, some having meanings and some not. She squinted at him uncomprehendingly, her lips pursed in concentration as she tried to determine what exactly he was uttering. Mine was the only word that meant anything to her in that instance. Mine, yours, his, hers – she knew the words in part. She was Augustus’ now, this she understood but she was not wholly sure she agreed with it. She did not want to be bought and sold like cattle on market day but she forgot that that was the nature of the game. Maia swallowed again, trying to keep back the tears that were threatening to well within her. She found herself in a situation, now, not unlike the one that she’d been in years before, isolated and alone with a strange man who she didn’t trust not to hurt her. She wanted Aaron’s reassurance, his calm smiles and gentle touches. But he was preoccupied as ever, too preoccupied to care for her. It was as if a contract drawn up all those years before had been ripped in two – he was no longer responsible for her anymore.

Maia had never really travelled beyond Shaabam’s; for, Aaron had never really considered it necessary. The elder girls had often gone into town to purchase worthless objects they did not require with their spoils. Aaron had encouraged Maia to save her money, having bought her a little purple pouch to store the notes and coins in. She’d inconvenienced Augustus for a few moments, no longer, to hurry back to her room she shared with five other girls. She’d turned over the mattress where she’d hidden the pouch and opened the drawstring bag, looking around at the side tables in search of something – anything – worth taking with her. In the end she settled for the peal-studded comb she’d been given for her fifteenth birthday but did not put it in the back, rather, she put it in her hair where she felt it belonged. The only other item she took was a particularly pretty necklace but other than that there was nothing that could not be replaced.

It was dusk, the sun truly beginning to die, its last stand sending soft tendrils of light across the gradually darkening sky. Maia peered down at herself as they neared what she assumed to be Augustus’ place of residence. She was hardly dressed for whatever occasion it was. She moved beside Augustus, her gait wider than what she considered to be comfortable so as to keep up with him, and found herself wishing she could hide behind him. He was quite a large man – far larger than she, at least – and she felt as though if she hid, she could never be found. The stares were becoming too much and they were a mixture; some wanton, most in distaste. Never before had she felt so exposed, so pried from her comfort zone. Even the auction hadn’t been as unpleasant as this.

In the foyer they were relieved from the humidity of the world outside by the whirring of air-conditioning units. She hurried behind Augustus a little faster, the accusatory looks growing ever more a judgemental as more people caught sight of her. Once in the elevator she found she could exhale the lungful of air she’d been holding in during their trip back to the hotel. She cast a look at Augustus who seemed to be the epitome of relaxation. Maia found herself wondering whether this was just a facade or a trait he’d developed from an easy youth. He seemed marked though, from the look of him; marked and wanted, a haunted man. Maia knew better than to ask questions though she did not quite know how to form them in the language Augustus and Aaron had spoken in: English. Greek had always been difficult enough for her to speak and write even though it was her native tongue and God knew Arabic had been damn near impossible to get right. English was a trial Maia did not want to undertake but knew very well that she’d have to.

When they reached the hotel suite, Augustus was quick to open the door. Maia hung back, hesitant at the door. She peered inside; taking in the room before her that was not richly but simply and modestly decorated. It was functional, not the mad, ostentatious colour scheme she was used to. Maia watched Augustus curiously as he busied himself with his tasks, interested in his movements and the way he carried himself with an air of such sophistication – sophistication that did not suit a man wearing shorts. Maia kept her smile private and to herself, tearing her gaze from his legs. She righted her expression when he looked up and spoke. Maia’s eyes fell to the glasses and realised the word he’d used. He was offering her a drink. Maia nodded but upon glancing over, realised her motion had been futile anyway – she had no choice but to drink. Maia stepped over the threshold and pressed the door gently closed behind her.

Maia crossed the room upon his direction and found herself in the mouth of the room, a small step away from joining him on the balcony. Her hand found the skirt of her dress and she fiddled with it, unwilling to join him, to fully admit that she was no longer Aaron’s to keep. She was Augustus Rookwood’s now, whatever that meant. It didn’t take much coaxing for Maia to finally step out onto the tiled balcony for she did not want to quarrel with the man. She swallowed hesitantly and eased herself down in the chair opposing his. Her body seemed to immediately relax into the soft fabric that lined the wooden skeleton of the chair and she reached for the glass, stopping mid-way to double back on herself, glancing to Augustus for reassurance before taking the glass into her hands.

Blinking at Augustus, Maia tried to make sense of what he’d said to her. She opened her mouth to speak but found her limited vocabulary failed her as per usual. She averted her eyes; turning them out over the ocean she remembered sailing across as a mere child. She leaned forward slightly, reaching over with her hand to place the glass on the table despite having not drunk any. Maia looked over the water, squinting slightly, imagining she could see land somewhere through the mist. Inhaling the salty smell of the ocean, Maia leaned back into her chair, allowing an absent-minded, contented expression to wash over her features, softening them almost. She looked over at Augustus after a moment or two and tipped her head to the side.

“Elláda,” She murmured softly, to the second question. “I...” Maia sounded her words carefully, unsure and desperate not to make a false move. “...am...Greek.” Maia bit down on her lower lip, her eyes furrowing in thought before bringing her hand to her chest. “Maia. I,” Maia paused, closing her eyes momentarily to replay in her mind the order of the words. “am,” she spoke after a moment, keeping her eyes shut as her mind dutifully replayed the spoken words. “Maia Papadopoulos.” She reopened her eyes and smiled somewhat bashfully at Augustus, her cheeks flushing rouge. “I...” Maia bit her lip again and her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She brought the glass back into her hands and lifted it to her mouth, taking a small tentative sip that she immediately regretted. The drink burned its way down her throat and Maia hastily returned it to the table, screwing her face up with obvious distaste. “Not that!” She exclaimed, opening her eyes, freeing them from their forced prison behind her lids. She peered at Augustus curiously before sitting back again. “I...I...I am not ... sure,” She admitted quietly.

While Augustus may not have been very different from other men like himself, there was a distinct trait in how he conducted himself with people. He loved to talk. And when we say love, it is meant with the truest sense of the word, whatever that meant. He could talk to anyone and everyone. It didn't matter what he was going to do with them, or even whether he liked them. Regardless of who, where, what, why, when, and how, Augustus would expect a conversation. There was no lack of companions at school, no lack of allies at the Ministry before the revelation of his hypocrisy, no occasion where he did not mislead his victims with some sort of hope, etc. A conversation should always precede any event or action.

So this was it. He was Augustus Rookwood. Of course he had designs on the girl. In fact, he had began to play scenarios out in his mind from the moment she was supposedly his. Now, though, a conversation. And, he thought, many, many more before ... he was going to see how long it would take. He was bored anyway, wasn't he? What a toy, he thought, and felt some sort of faint affection for his old friend, who, he believed, had his interest at heart in the gift of this girl. Augustus feigned little attention as he indulged in the odd smells of his cigar. Yet, he was waiting for the girl to speak. She had to. She was going to be his entertainment until he found what he really wanted to do with her next. He expected exotic stories from the pair of exotic lips she possessed. Out came, not stories, but an exotic accent and very, very poor English.

He first noticed it, not that it was hard to pick out at all, and turned mildly away from a view of the sea to fit her into his periphery. When the girl introduced her name, Augustus turned even more towards her, his interest piqued by the way she was struggling to pronounce her words to make meaning to him. He had always enjoyed watching people struggle, in all the many different manners of struggle that was possible in the world/ A glint of amusement lit the man's eyes as he set his glass back down on the table after another sip. Augustus watched Maia intently, watching for the moment he had been waiting for ever since he had allowed absinthe to flow into that glass he had set for her. There was no warning, and the girl had consumed more than the sip that was intended for someone who was not familiar to absinthe.

With just a smirk of amusement, Augustus attempted to affect a smile of assurance to the girl as he watched her regain some sort of composure again. Genuinely interested in this girl now, the man toyed with the questions in his head and took another drag from his cigar. "Greece, huh..." He studied her face. "Tell me, Pappy," He chuckled at the pet name he had decided on now. "With a face and a body like that," He smirked cheekily, "are you ready to tell me the story of where all those genes came from? From a league of Greek goddesses? Which one, huh?" The mischief on his face was evident. The girl was a slave, of course he was only trying to be funny with her. "Tell me about your grand story of Greek gods and goddesses, and I'll tell you about the legacy of the Rookwoods. So far, of course, the most outstanding of Rookwoods is just right in front of your sultry face." Augustus attempted a look that was meant to pronounce how he was some sort of handsome English legend.