liesl voigt
black swanx|xoutfitx|x#19244e
black swanx|xoutfitx|x#19244e
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Liesl was fully aware of Adrien's hand on her waist as he guided her through the door. She didn't know what gave her more satisfaction the fact that someone as gorgeous as him looked her way or that he snubbed her sister. Probably the later. She'd soak up the moment however long it lasted. Being seen with Adrien was a boost to anyone's status. He was one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in town. She'd give him all the attention he wanted.
Shortly after stepping into the foyer, a small white haired woman stepped before them holding out cards with numbers on them. Before Mrs. Picket could talk, Liesl took the paper, gave the woman a curt smile and continued into the great hall. She didn't look behind her to see if Adrien followed, but his gaze was on her. That she could feel.
Her eyes scanned the gathering, which felt to be lacking a fair number of people. Liesl was never one to be particularly punctual, but what she thought was fashionably late seemed to be right on time. What a pity. As she looked around her gaze fell on Lorelei, who stood at the bar looking like a disco ball doily. That dress was something, to say the least. She smirked to herself as she changed her path to beeline straight for her sister.
Just as she had nearly reached the bar, Lorelei caught sight of her and left, heading for the auction display. Liesl scoffed, more to herself. Typical Lorelei. Since she was already at the bar, Liesl ordered a martini with extra olives and lingered for a moment to take a couple sips. With drink in hand, she started to follow after her sister.
She found Lorelei standing at the table of objects, staring at what looked like a perfectly preserved rose held in one of those jars you'd see in some voodoo hut with a bird skull inside. It was an odd item that didn't look particularly worth anything. Usually at these types of functions it was jewels, pieces of art and such. But a quick glance around the room showed the collection of objects to be out of the ordinary, to say the least. What did she expect from some small forgettable town like Essex. Class didn't really exist there.
"What would you even do with that?" Liesl asked before taking a sip of her drink.
Lorelei jumped slightly, not realizing she had popped up behind her. "What do you want, Liesl?" she asked, annoyed, as she moved down the line to the next object, hoping Liesl wouldn't follow. Wrong.
"I actually had a question." Liesl followed her sister, a few steps behind. Her gaze fell to a pair of manky old ballet slippers. Her face twisted in disgust. "...Gross."
"Is there no one else you can bother?" Lorelei didn't bother looking up or stopping to listen to whatever her sister had to say.
"Is that any way to talk to your sister?" Liesl mused in a mocking tone.
Lorelei scoffed and rolled her eyes. She could always count on Liesl to try and lay on the guilt trips. And while it might have worked when they were younger, she was older and wiser now. At this point, she might have been the only person immune to her manipulative nature. She knew her sister didn't care about anyone but herself, and that included what others thought about her. She wasn't there to please others. The only pleasure she sought was her own and she didn't care how she had to accomplish it.
"Is Adrien single? I figured with you being his indentured servant and all that, you probably know him better than most people do." Liesl raised her glass to her lips and paused just before taking a drink. "Maybe I should have taken that job," she whispered.
"You're welcome to have it," Lorelei replied coldly. Her feet slowed to a halt when her gaze fell upon a white feather. It wasn't something that would normally catch her attention, but she couldn't pull her eyes from the swan feather quill.
"Well... Is he?" Liesl didn't back down and continued to follow after her sister, silently judging all the items up for auction as they went.
"What does it matter? It hasn't stopped you before," Lorelei responded in a matter of fact manner as she glanced over her shoulder slightly to look towards Liesl. She sighed, realizing that she wouldn't leave her be until she got an answer. "Mr. Duval doesn't have girlfriends. He has flings."
Liesl smirked as she took the toothpick from her drink and ate one of the olives. "He could fling me."
"Jesus christ."
"Oh, lighten up." Liesl groaned as she passed off her empty glass to a passing waiter. "Maybe you're the one who needs a good... fling." Her sister was so damn uptight that you could shove a piece of coal up her ass and get a diamond. If she was a decent sister, maybe she'd persuaded Lorelei to go fuck the dreamy Adrien. But she wasn't. She was selfish and once she set her gaze on something, it was hers. And it gave Liesl an extra level of satisfaction knowing he dropped her sister like a bag of rocks when she showed up.
"Are we done here?" Lorelei snapped.
Liesl clicked her tongue in her mouth. "Suit yourself. More for me," she said as her gaze fell to the quill as her sister gently stroked the feather. Her brows furrowed as she snatched it from Lorelei and studied it. Nothing about it seemed particularly attention grabbing. Who used quills anyway? "The only action you get is from your books." She rolled her eyes and dropped it back onto the table, bending the feather slightly in her carelessness.
Without another word, Liesl left her sister huffing over the damaged feather and made her way around the room. Nothing looked particularly nice or worth any of her money. At least, that's what she thought until she reached the far end of one table where a antique black necklace rested on a simple black velvet mannequin. Normally, something like that wouldn't be her style. It was a bit gaudy and a little too vintage for her liking. But no matter how much she tried to move on and look at other items, she kept getting drawn back to the pendant. She sighed and finally decided to at least put a small bid on it. She'd keep coming back to it if she didn't. And who knows, maybe she could get it for cheap enough that she'd be able to pawn it for double the price.
Just as she went to grab a pen, Adrien appeared beside her with a sly smile, holding out a card with his number on it. "A necklace that beautiful belongs on your neck and your neck alone." He took up the pen and held it out to her as he leaned on the table slightly. As Liesl took the offered writing utensil, she looked down at the card and saw the price amount was blank. His gaze was almost testing her to see how much she'd put down. How much was she worth in the eyes of Adrien Duval?
Without batting an eye, she scribbled down $50,000 and tossed the card into the box beside the necklace. Adrien's smirk only grew as he pushed off the table. He began to walk passed her and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I would have paid triple." His hand lightly brushed along her lower back, just above her bottom as he parted ways and headed for the bar.
Shortly after stepping into the foyer, a small white haired woman stepped before them holding out cards with numbers on them. Before Mrs. Picket could talk, Liesl took the paper, gave the woman a curt smile and continued into the great hall. She didn't look behind her to see if Adrien followed, but his gaze was on her. That she could feel.
Her eyes scanned the gathering, which felt to be lacking a fair number of people. Liesl was never one to be particularly punctual, but what she thought was fashionably late seemed to be right on time. What a pity. As she looked around her gaze fell on Lorelei, who stood at the bar looking like a disco ball doily. That dress was something, to say the least. She smirked to herself as she changed her path to beeline straight for her sister.
Just as she had nearly reached the bar, Lorelei caught sight of her and left, heading for the auction display. Liesl scoffed, more to herself. Typical Lorelei. Since she was already at the bar, Liesl ordered a martini with extra olives and lingered for a moment to take a couple sips. With drink in hand, she started to follow after her sister.
She found Lorelei standing at the table of objects, staring at what looked like a perfectly preserved rose held in one of those jars you'd see in some voodoo hut with a bird skull inside. It was an odd item that didn't look particularly worth anything. Usually at these types of functions it was jewels, pieces of art and such. But a quick glance around the room showed the collection of objects to be out of the ordinary, to say the least. What did she expect from some small forgettable town like Essex. Class didn't really exist there.
"What would you even do with that?" Liesl asked before taking a sip of her drink.
Lorelei jumped slightly, not realizing she had popped up behind her. "What do you want, Liesl?" she asked, annoyed, as she moved down the line to the next object, hoping Liesl wouldn't follow. Wrong.
"I actually had a question." Liesl followed her sister, a few steps behind. Her gaze fell to a pair of manky old ballet slippers. Her face twisted in disgust. "...Gross."
"Is there no one else you can bother?" Lorelei didn't bother looking up or stopping to listen to whatever her sister had to say.
"Is that any way to talk to your sister?" Liesl mused in a mocking tone.
Lorelei scoffed and rolled her eyes. She could always count on Liesl to try and lay on the guilt trips. And while it might have worked when they were younger, she was older and wiser now. At this point, she might have been the only person immune to her manipulative nature. She knew her sister didn't care about anyone but herself, and that included what others thought about her. She wasn't there to please others. The only pleasure she sought was her own and she didn't care how she had to accomplish it.
"Is Adrien single? I figured with you being his indentured servant and all that, you probably know him better than most people do." Liesl raised her glass to her lips and paused just before taking a drink. "Maybe I should have taken that job," she whispered.
"You're welcome to have it," Lorelei replied coldly. Her feet slowed to a halt when her gaze fell upon a white feather. It wasn't something that would normally catch her attention, but she couldn't pull her eyes from the swan feather quill.
"Well... Is he?" Liesl didn't back down and continued to follow after her sister, silently judging all the items up for auction as they went.
"What does it matter? It hasn't stopped you before," Lorelei responded in a matter of fact manner as she glanced over her shoulder slightly to look towards Liesl. She sighed, realizing that she wouldn't leave her be until she got an answer. "Mr. Duval doesn't have girlfriends. He has flings."
Liesl smirked as she took the toothpick from her drink and ate one of the olives. "He could fling me."
"Jesus christ."
"Oh, lighten up." Liesl groaned as she passed off her empty glass to a passing waiter. "Maybe you're the one who needs a good... fling." Her sister was so damn uptight that you could shove a piece of coal up her ass and get a diamond. If she was a decent sister, maybe she'd persuaded Lorelei to go fuck the dreamy Adrien. But she wasn't. She was selfish and once she set her gaze on something, it was hers. And it gave Liesl an extra level of satisfaction knowing he dropped her sister like a bag of rocks when she showed up.
"Are we done here?" Lorelei snapped.
Liesl clicked her tongue in her mouth. "Suit yourself. More for me," she said as her gaze fell to the quill as her sister gently stroked the feather. Her brows furrowed as she snatched it from Lorelei and studied it. Nothing about it seemed particularly attention grabbing. Who used quills anyway? "The only action you get is from your books." She rolled her eyes and dropped it back onto the table, bending the feather slightly in her carelessness.
Without another word, Liesl left her sister huffing over the damaged feather and made her way around the room. Nothing looked particularly nice or worth any of her money. At least, that's what she thought until she reached the far end of one table where a antique black necklace rested on a simple black velvet mannequin. Normally, something like that wouldn't be her style. It was a bit gaudy and a little too vintage for her liking. But no matter how much she tried to move on and look at other items, she kept getting drawn back to the pendant. She sighed and finally decided to at least put a small bid on it. She'd keep coming back to it if she didn't. And who knows, maybe she could get it for cheap enough that she'd be able to pawn it for double the price.
Just as she went to grab a pen, Adrien appeared beside her with a sly smile, holding out a card with his number on it. "A necklace that beautiful belongs on your neck and your neck alone." He took up the pen and held it out to her as he leaned on the table slightly. As Liesl took the offered writing utensil, she looked down at the card and saw the price amount was blank. His gaze was almost testing her to see how much she'd put down. How much was she worth in the eyes of Adrien Duval?
Without batting an eye, she scribbled down $50,000 and tossed the card into the box beside the necklace. Adrien's smirk only grew as he pushed off the table. He began to walk passed her and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I would have paid triple." His hand lightly brushed along her lower back, just above her bottom as he parted ways and headed for the bar.
roman scarrott
the geniex|xoutfitx|x#5890c9
the geniex|xoutfitx|x#5890c9
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Roman hadn't been in town for very long, a week or two at most. He was only passing through, but something about Essex called to him. His road trips rarely had any destinations, so it was any other stop to him. He could refuel, maybe do some light work for a quick buck or two, and then he'd be on the road in no time. Normally he only stayed in a town for a couple of days at most, but something kept him there, while he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Essex was nothing special. He had seen dozens like it, yet he still lingered.
Then, almost like divine intervention, the morning he was planning on leaving, he exited his van to take his dog Nan on a walk and found an invitation sitting perfectly on his bumper. It was strange, no doubt. Why would some drifter who's barely been in town warrant an invitation to... Well, to anything? Did anyone there even know his name?
He contemplated the charity auction on his whole walk. Roman didn't have much to offer when it came to charity. He lived out of a van for christ's sake. But he couldn't bring himself to throw it out. And before he knew it, he was searching his small mobile home for an outfit that could pass as being acceptable. One thing was for sure, he didn't own anything even remotely close to black tie formal, nor did he have the money to blow on a suit.
When the night came, Roman did his best to dress nicely. He had a sports coat so that was... something. He left the TV on playing looney tunes for Nan. The old girl always enjoyed watching cartoons and it'd be enough to keep her busy for a couple hours while he went to the auction. He wasn't a horrible pet owner. He always left shows running for her, food and water, blankets and even had the windows cracked with a couple small fans. It was a dog's paradise in there. The only thing people might hear when passing by would be her loud bear like snores.
It didn't take Roman long to walk to the city hall. As he got closer, he became more self-conscious seeing others enter in tuxedos and expensive evening gowns. Just before ascending the stairs, he stepped to the side and tied his hair back in the slickest man-bun he could manage. He adjusted his jacket with a deep breath before entering.
Once inside, he quickly began to feel like he didn't fit in. Roman stood out like sore thumb in his thrift store clothes. He was tall enough that no one could miss him. That included a petite white haired woman who made her way over to him. "Thank you for coming Mr. Scarrott," she said while offering him her right hand.
Roman couldn't recall ever meeting the woman before nor for there to be any reason for her to invite him to this event. But he tried to brush it off, thinking perhaps he simply forgot. His massive hand took hers gently and gave it a friendly shake. "Thank you for the invite, although I'll admit, I don't think I quite fit in."
Mrs Picket smiled sweetly. "You fit in more than you realize." Strange comment. Roman just smiled instead and offered a chuckle to hide some of his confusion. "Have you ever been to a silent auction?"
"No. But I've head enough about them."
The woman held out a card labeled #103. "If you have any questions, feel free to ask."
Roman saluted slightly with the card before the woman wondered off to greet the next arrival. He stood around like an awkward giant in the middle of the room, messing with his card as he tried to figure out what to do. Eventually his feet carried him over to the auction items. It was a strange assortment of objects ranging from antique jewelry to other things that look like they could have been fished out of the trash. It was a little odd, but then again, he wasn't sure how rich people functioned. And while they might have looked like trash, maybe they were collectors items? Who knew.
Most things he saw no use for. Life in the back of a van didn't leave Roman much room for luxuries. It was tight living quarters, especially with a big dog. There were somethings he thought could be mildly useful like the leather satchel, but last time he checked he had no use for weapons or baubles. He had all but given up on seeing anything that really caught his attention when he stumbled upon the antique Arabian oil lamp. He liked the way it looked and it'd definitely matched the hippie aesthetic he unintentionally had going on with his gypsy lifestyle. But what kind of use could he have for a damn oil lamp?
That was a fire hazard waiting to happen. He could see Nan knocking it over with her tail and burning down whatever stuff Roman did own. Perhaps he could use it to hold incense. Not that he had any of that either. Yet, he still wanted it... for God knows why. With a sigh, he pulled out his wallet and counted what money he had. He put down his bid of $20, although he knew there was no way he'd win. He saw the cars some people arrived in and their fancy suits. They had money to spare. But at least he tried.
Feeling a bit defeated, Roman made his way over to the food menu. Rich people could afford the most ridiculous food. He hoped that whatever was in store sounded appetizing, then he'd at least get something out of the night. Standing there, he happened to notice a woman beside him. At first he thought nothing of it, but on second glance her face looked familiar. "Sorry to bother you, but you're that famous author, right?... Hassud?" His face scrunched slightly as hoped he pronounced her last name correctly. "Didn't think I'd run into someone famous here?"
Then, almost like divine intervention, the morning he was planning on leaving, he exited his van to take his dog Nan on a walk and found an invitation sitting perfectly on his bumper. It was strange, no doubt. Why would some drifter who's barely been in town warrant an invitation to... Well, to anything? Did anyone there even know his name?
He contemplated the charity auction on his whole walk. Roman didn't have much to offer when it came to charity. He lived out of a van for christ's sake. But he couldn't bring himself to throw it out. And before he knew it, he was searching his small mobile home for an outfit that could pass as being acceptable. One thing was for sure, he didn't own anything even remotely close to black tie formal, nor did he have the money to blow on a suit.
When the night came, Roman did his best to dress nicely. He had a sports coat so that was... something. He left the TV on playing looney tunes for Nan. The old girl always enjoyed watching cartoons and it'd be enough to keep her busy for a couple hours while he went to the auction. He wasn't a horrible pet owner. He always left shows running for her, food and water, blankets and even had the windows cracked with a couple small fans. It was a dog's paradise in there. The only thing people might hear when passing by would be her loud bear like snores.
It didn't take Roman long to walk to the city hall. As he got closer, he became more self-conscious seeing others enter in tuxedos and expensive evening gowns. Just before ascending the stairs, he stepped to the side and tied his hair back in the slickest man-bun he could manage. He adjusted his jacket with a deep breath before entering.
Once inside, he quickly began to feel like he didn't fit in. Roman stood out like sore thumb in his thrift store clothes. He was tall enough that no one could miss him. That included a petite white haired woman who made her way over to him. "Thank you for coming Mr. Scarrott," she said while offering him her right hand.
Roman couldn't recall ever meeting the woman before nor for there to be any reason for her to invite him to this event. But he tried to brush it off, thinking perhaps he simply forgot. His massive hand took hers gently and gave it a friendly shake. "Thank you for the invite, although I'll admit, I don't think I quite fit in."
Mrs Picket smiled sweetly. "You fit in more than you realize." Strange comment. Roman just smiled instead and offered a chuckle to hide some of his confusion. "Have you ever been to a silent auction?"
"No. But I've head enough about them."
The woman held out a card labeled #103. "If you have any questions, feel free to ask."
Roman saluted slightly with the card before the woman wondered off to greet the next arrival. He stood around like an awkward giant in the middle of the room, messing with his card as he tried to figure out what to do. Eventually his feet carried him over to the auction items. It was a strange assortment of objects ranging from antique jewelry to other things that look like they could have been fished out of the trash. It was a little odd, but then again, he wasn't sure how rich people functioned. And while they might have looked like trash, maybe they were collectors items? Who knew.
Most things he saw no use for. Life in the back of a van didn't leave Roman much room for luxuries. It was tight living quarters, especially with a big dog. There were somethings he thought could be mildly useful like the leather satchel, but last time he checked he had no use for weapons or baubles. He had all but given up on seeing anything that really caught his attention when he stumbled upon the antique Arabian oil lamp. He liked the way it looked and it'd definitely matched the hippie aesthetic he unintentionally had going on with his gypsy lifestyle. But what kind of use could he have for a damn oil lamp?
That was a fire hazard waiting to happen. He could see Nan knocking it over with her tail and burning down whatever stuff Roman did own. Perhaps he could use it to hold incense. Not that he had any of that either. Yet, he still wanted it... for God knows why. With a sigh, he pulled out his wallet and counted what money he had. He put down his bid of $20, although he knew there was no way he'd win. He saw the cars some people arrived in and their fancy suits. They had money to spare. But at least he tried.
Feeling a bit defeated, Roman made his way over to the food menu. Rich people could afford the most ridiculous food. He hoped that whatever was in store sounded appetizing, then he'd at least get something out of the night. Standing there, he happened to notice a woman beside him. At first he thought nothing of it, but on second glance her face looked familiar. "Sorry to bother you, but you're that famous author, right?... Hassud?" His face scrunched slightly as hoped he pronounced her last name correctly. "Didn't think I'd run into someone famous here?"
grayson hughes
robin hoodx|xoutfitx|x#99bfaa
robin hoodx|xoutfitx|x#99bfaa
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Grayson had far more important things on his plate than going to a charity auction. Sure it was for a good cause and he was always one to want to help out with charity. But there was so much to do at work that it was hard to justify leaving. Lately, the Sheriff had gotten lazier with his duties and the only thing he did do was sit his fat ass at his desk and eat donuts. All the while leaving a whole precincts worth of work to just Grayson. He'd get into work at 7 in the morning, and then wouldn't get back home until after midnight. He was exhausted.
A week or so before the auction, he ran into Mrs. Picket while on patrol and when he mentioned he wouldn't be able to attend, she seemed heart broken. She stood there and tried to convince him to go for the better part of half an hour. When he realized she wasn't going to give, he finally agreed.
So there he was, heading toward the stairs that lead up to City Hall. Grayson was late, of course. Even when he tried to be on time for something, he never could be. Something always came up and it was up to him to take care of it. But, honestly, he was happy to be late. Maybe then he could slip in unnoticed. Nothing in his closet even remotely said black tie formal. He had the suit he wore for his job interview years ago and that was about it. Hell, he was lucky it still fit him but he look like a damn FBI agent from a 90's movie. Ridiculous. So, any excuse to go unseen the better.
Upon entering the main hall, Mrs. Picket was right there, ready to happily greeted him. "Officer Hughes! I'm so glad you could make it."
"Of course," he said giving his best smile, trying not to overly adjust his suit. "I did promise, didn't I?"
The older woman held out a card with a unique number on it. "If you want to bid on anything just use this number. All the proceeds go to charity and we'll announce all the winners before the night is over."
"Thank you, Mrs. Picket." He flashed her a smile and tucked the card away in his breast pocket.
Grayson slid his hands into his pockets as he slowly walked around the large gathering. The bar looked enticing, but he didn't get a drink. Although he was technically off the clock, he was always working. He didn't like how alcohol made everything... cloudy. So, rather, he made a lap around the grand hall. So far he saw no one he was particularly close enough with to just join in on their conversation. He might have known nearly everyone there, but that didn't put them on friendly terms. To most there he was just the local cop. Part of him wondered how many of them actually knew his first name. Still, he smiled at every familiar face and nodded his head while he walked about.
He let his feet idly carry him about the room until he finally ended up near the auction tables. Grayson looked over every item. There were antiques, clothes, knick knacks, and everything in between. Mrs. Picket definitely made an effort to have a little bit of everything to try and accommodate everyone. Many of it looked like collectors items to some degree, nothing he knew much about. His pace slowed down near a medieval bow and quiver. It looked like it belonged in a museum, not at some small town's auction. Everything looked handmade, down to the arrows. He could even see where repairs were made on the quiver, and wear on the handle from use.
Without much thought, Grayson wrote down a bid of $200 and slipped the paper into the box. Honestly, he didn't know why he did it. What need did he have a bow anyway? It'd just sit collecting dust in his apartment. Maybe he could donate it to the local museum or something. He wasn't sure. But regardless, it was too late now and the bid was placed. He wasn't even sure if he had money like that to spend, but it was a gut feeling... He just had to try and get it.
A week or so before the auction, he ran into Mrs. Picket while on patrol and when he mentioned he wouldn't be able to attend, she seemed heart broken. She stood there and tried to convince him to go for the better part of half an hour. When he realized she wasn't going to give, he finally agreed.
So there he was, heading toward the stairs that lead up to City Hall. Grayson was late, of course. Even when he tried to be on time for something, he never could be. Something always came up and it was up to him to take care of it. But, honestly, he was happy to be late. Maybe then he could slip in unnoticed. Nothing in his closet even remotely said black tie formal. He had the suit he wore for his job interview years ago and that was about it. Hell, he was lucky it still fit him but he look like a damn FBI agent from a 90's movie. Ridiculous. So, any excuse to go unseen the better.
Upon entering the main hall, Mrs. Picket was right there, ready to happily greeted him. "Officer Hughes! I'm so glad you could make it."
"Of course," he said giving his best smile, trying not to overly adjust his suit. "I did promise, didn't I?"
The older woman held out a card with a unique number on it. "If you want to bid on anything just use this number. All the proceeds go to charity and we'll announce all the winners before the night is over."
"Thank you, Mrs. Picket." He flashed her a smile and tucked the card away in his breast pocket.
Grayson slid his hands into his pockets as he slowly walked around the large gathering. The bar looked enticing, but he didn't get a drink. Although he was technically off the clock, he was always working. He didn't like how alcohol made everything... cloudy. So, rather, he made a lap around the grand hall. So far he saw no one he was particularly close enough with to just join in on their conversation. He might have known nearly everyone there, but that didn't put them on friendly terms. To most there he was just the local cop. Part of him wondered how many of them actually knew his first name. Still, he smiled at every familiar face and nodded his head while he walked about.
He let his feet idly carry him about the room until he finally ended up near the auction tables. Grayson looked over every item. There were antiques, clothes, knick knacks, and everything in between. Mrs. Picket definitely made an effort to have a little bit of everything to try and accommodate everyone. Many of it looked like collectors items to some degree, nothing he knew much about. His pace slowed down near a medieval bow and quiver. It looked like it belonged in a museum, not at some small town's auction. Everything looked handmade, down to the arrows. He could even see where repairs were made on the quiver, and wear on the handle from use.
Without much thought, Grayson wrote down a bid of $200 and slipped the paper into the box. Honestly, he didn't know why he did it. What need did he have a bow anyway? It'd just sit collecting dust in his apartment. Maybe he could donate it to the local museum or something. He wasn't sure. But regardless, it was too late now and the bid was placed. He wasn't even sure if he had money like that to spend, but it was a gut feeling... He just had to try and get it.