Snippet #2819927

It wasn’t every day that they had a charity auction in Essex, and Hugo would take any excuse to go out and flaunt a bit. Getting dressed for these events was something he’d done more when he was younger, lived in a bigger city. He liked it, liked being seen, feeling important, even if it was just for bidding on whatever sorts of things had been dredged up for this auction.

It wasn’t a long drive from his place to city hall (really, it wasn’t a long drive to get much of anywhere in Essex), so Hugo wasn’t worried at all about arriving too late. Things seemed to be in full swing by the time Hugo arrived, which suited him fine. There were few things in life more awkward than being the first to arrive at a social event. One last look in the mirror to be sure he looked appropriately dashing and he was heading up the stairs and into the building. Mrs. Picket found him shortly after he entered, ”Mr. Lund,” She said, ”Thank you for attending.” There was something about this woman that was familiar in an unpleasant, yet somehow disarming, way.

”Thank you for the invitation.” Hugo grinned, showing off his practiced authenticity. Mrs. Picket gave him a slip of paper with a number on it for the bidding, 144, and he figured he may as well look around.

Adrien was there, but he was busy enough with Liesl, and there was no way Hugo was interrupting that. Instead, Hugo decided to browse through the items, himself. Jewelry, old weaponry, random pieces of junk. Hugo could spot at least one thing in the room that probably belonged in a dumpster instead of an auction. But what did he know? Some of the items were truly interesting, though: an old rifle, an oil lamp… The mayor’s jewelry, paired with some tacky headband. Weird.

When he came across a gold ring, though, something about it pulled him in. It wasn’t overly ornate, but there was something about it. So he picked it up, turned it over between his fingers. He didn’t need this, and yet… He knew he had to bid on it. How much was he willing to pay for a ring like this? $1000, he wanted it. If someone else wanted it more than he did, they’d pay more. Besides, this was charity. Maybe he’d bid on that oil lamp too, it was an interesting piece.

He was considering the merits of checking out the catering table when someone caught his eye. Elena Lux. Hugo didn’t know her well. Hell, they’d hardly actually spoken since she moved into town, but she was pretty, and familia,r and talking to her seemed like a decent enough way to spend at least a little chunk of his evening.

”It’s... Elena, right?” He was careful to approach after she seemed finished inspecting that mirror she’d seemed interested in. ”I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Hugo.” He put a hand on his chest, flashed a brilliant smile, ”I don’t want to be presumptuous,” That was a lie, Hugo loved to be presumptuous if he could get away with it, ”But it looks like you could use some company.” He cleared his throat and glanced off to the side, a gesture meant to display some sort of false modesty or bashfulness, ”I was just going to see if they had any desserts over at the catering tables, if you were interested.”

Benjamin Thompson liked stuff. You never knew what kinds of treasures you might find if you were willing to look; so when he received an invitation to an auction, he really couldn’t pass up the opportunity. He decided to close down the diner early, they’d likely have such a slow night it wouldn’t have been worth being open, anyway. And as he arrived and saw that most of the town seemed to be attending the event, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d made the right decision. Ben was greeted at the door. He wasn’t the most sociable on the best of days, but he smiled politely and accepted the number he’d been given. Silent auctions were much calmer than the standard kind, he had to admit.

He happily went looking at the various items on display, all of them interesting in their own ways, even if some of them were a bit more… Unique. He was just staring down a pretty ordinary looking axe, trying to discern what the hell it was doing here, when he heard an annoyingly familiar voice in his ear. ”“Benny boo, I didn’t expect you to show up and you look quite dapper if I do say so myself,”

”Hello, Olive.” He shot back, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of riling him up (because he knew that was the goal). He turned his head too look at her, raising an eyebrow, ”What do you want?”

“Do you know if they have liquor, or do you have any stashed on you, perchance?”

Ben rolled his eyes, ”Do I look like I work here? Fuck off.” But he reached into his coat and passed a flask over to her. He had to be prepared for the chance they didn’t have any booze at this thing. Ben came for the auction, but he didn’t come to stand around and stroke any rich fucker’s ego. ”Just a sip,” He insisted, before nodding his head in the direction of the bar, ”Think the bar’s that way, bet they have all the fruity drinks you can get your hands on. Probably water the shit down, though.”

After a moment, he snapped his fingers, insisting on getting the flask back before Olive had the chance to wander off with it. ”If you’ll excuse me,” He said, words much more polite than his tone, ”I didn’t come here to talk to you.” After securing the flask, he went back to looking at the various items on auction. His right hand was in his pocket, leaving his hook to swing by his side as he walked. There was this pocket watch that kept catching his eye. He didn’t know what it was about the thing. He didn’t need a pocket watch; it wasn’t practical for his life, and he hated that ticking sound that analog clocks made. In the end, he knew he had to place a bid of some sort on it. Deep in his heart, he didn’t want the thing, but something in him felt like it needed to belong to him. Was this a greed thing? Maybe. It was nice and shiny. $75 would do. At least that way, he knew he’d tried… Well, not tried, so much as not completely overlook the thing. There was no way he’d come out of here with it, not with that bid, but at least now he wouldn’t have to regret not bidding on it at all. Not that he wouldn’t complain about it in the morning.