[st. lucia] you and i, we're made of glass [watson]

"50,000 galleons, can I get 50,000 galleons?"

Lucy Gibson raised the paddle in her hand in a lazy fashion, her legs crossed as she sat in the plush chairs that filled the open room. She held back a slow yawn with her other hand, letting her eyes settle on the person that she was currently fighting against. The prize? A beautiful, 17th century diamond necklace that had been cursed by the great Tituba. Sure, people had died while they were in possession - someone had even stabbed their lover in the dead of night while wearing the necklace - but it was pretty. Lucille didn't mind getting a murder charge if she's had a gorgeous piece around her neck. The twenty three year old raised her paddle once more for a bid of 60,000 galleons, although her arm was getting tired.

She waved the nearest waiter towards her, taking a flute of champagne before shooing them away with her paddle. Lucy had been up since wee hours in the morning, getting ready to make her appearance at the auction in St. Lucia. The event had been created under the pretense that the proceeds were going to some charity to rebuild some school that no one really cared about, although Carlos had told her earlier in the day that the money was being fed back into the drug cartel. The girl didn't know the logistics, she was just worried about looking good and buying pretty things with money that wasn't hers.

Now, Lucy was just tired. Sweeping her dress to the side, the Australian girl stood, abandoning all hope that she might get the pretty cursed necklace. She shoved the paddle at one of the workers, taking a long drink of the champagne in her hand and making her way out to the balcony of the room, overlooking yards and yards of foliage and a picturesque beach. Lanterns floated around the balcony area, properly lighting the porch and bar area where few people mingled. A cool breeze shuffled the skirt of Lucy's dress, although it wasn't cold. In fact, the weather was almost perfect. Since the sun had gone down, the tropical island had cooled, making it warm enough that no overcoats were needed, but cold enough that she wasn't even breaking a sweat.

Lucy caught sight of a familiar slicked back head of hair that she'd seen once before in her lifetime. One of Carlos's business partners that she'd met sitting poolside in Spain, a rather charming Englishman named Wolfram. She'd never would have guessed that he'd waste his time at some random auction - but then again, here she stood. "Mr. Wolfram," Lucy approached the man from behind, letting her free hand rest on his back. "It's a surprise to see you here - snooty auctions don't really seem like your pace. High class casinos maybe? Unless my assumptions have deceived me, and you're one to spend frivolously."

Watson Wolfram was suffocating underneath the mesmerizing waves of distant voices floating around him, the drink in his hand, and the leg slowly traveling up the rough material of his black denim pants. Currently smack dab in the middle of an auction in one of the many sitting rooms of the St. Lucia mansion he found himself in, the wizard struggled to focus on any one thing that was unfolding in the present tense. Perhaps he had taken too much of his own party draught (that he had only recently dubbed ELXR in preparation to put on the market), he lazily concluded as the faces around him blurred into one picture of false decadence masked by glamour.

On stage there were millions worth of magical artifacts being dangled in front of the room of wolves; a treasure trove for their less than diplomatic lusts. Dark eyes, that had practically been consumed by his pupils, were traveling around the room in utter amazement, struggling to remain stagnant for even a moment. It was as though he was seeing these people for the first time in his life. Really seeing the people he had called colleagues for the majority of his post graduate years. Dripping in diamonds, gold and designer garb, they couldn't hide from who they truly were. As if he was peeking inside of some alternative universe, Watson absorbed it like a sponge.

Not even the six foot tall woman next to him, who had quite literally just walked off of a runway to accompany, was enough to tear the man away from the reality that was suffocating him. Just as the walls around him began to close in, he escaped. First, to the cellar. He needed a distraction and he needed it fast and the cellar was just he place for that. It was there, surrounded by elaborate suits and gowns that Watson realized how underdressed he was in his black leather jacket, clad with white spray paint on the back. This was a first. Taking every substance he could get his hands on, he relished in the newfound numb that his brain had succumbed to.

Next thing Watson knew, he was on a balcony, the harsh slap of salty air bringing him closer an inch closer to Earth, although his feet were yet to touch the ground. A hand on his back sent a wave of pleasure down his spine and across his flesh. Just as he could appreciate it, the sensation was gone and he was practically begging for more. Lucy Gibson. He remembered the woman well. She could be useful to him, he recalled, as his scheme with her partner Carlos floated back into his consciousness.

"Miss Gibson," The dark haired wizard pulled her into an embrace, kissing either side of her cheek and relishing the moment their faces were close together, catching her gaze and holding it with purpose. "This isn't my scene?" He repeated, astonished. "Is it the jacket that gave me away?" He took a half step away so that they weren't face to face any longer. "I could say the same for you," He countered. "Where is Carlos, then? I'd imagine he's not far," Watson raised an eyebrow, his question laced with double meaning. On the one hand, he wanted to get closer to the man for business purposes and on the other, he couldn't have wished he was farther away. "I don't imagine you rocked up here alone in a dress like that..." He noted, eyes traveling her body once more.

Maybe, just maybe, they were both out of their comfort zones. Even if it was just in the slightest way, both Watson and Lucy had probably had something that they were keeping from their peers that just left them that much out of the inner circle Lucy had so badly wanted to be a part of most of her life. She wasn't sure what it was for Watson, although she knew it was her impoverished past. She'd somehow made it out of poverty alive, and here she was, dressed in a gown that had cost too much to even think about the price. Instead, she'd just laughed at the large sum that her boyfriend had to fork over in order for her to wear the thick, rather itchy cloth for just one simple evening.

"The jacket is very..." The twenty three year old paused, tilting her head as she'd looked at his attire, momentarily judging him for the choices he'd made. "Very grunge. Very... SoHo London. I'd say it's a fashion statement all on it's own, mostly because the men here like to wear designer suit jackets. While it's not a popular choice, I'm sure people can respect it." She told the man standing next to her. "Plus, I think these people really don't know as much about fashion as they think they do." Lucy shrugged. The people here were more obsessed with the items sat around the rooms than they were their own peers, although she knew every single person in the room would lie and say otherwise. Why would people want to admit that they didn't give two shits about someone else when their whole business relied on networking?

A question about Carlos made Lucy smile faintly, her eyebrow raising at Watson. "You're right," She told him, her smile only growing bigger as he not-so-subtly checked her out. "He's in here somewhere, making deals about new product and whatnot. It's a social business, after all." Lucy quoted her dear boyfriend, letting herself chuckle for a moment before looking out to the beach. "I haven't seen him in a few hours, actually. He'd left to talk to someone about a partnership and I was left alone, betting on pretty things. All in all," She admitted, "I wasn't complaining."

The woman bit her lip as she wondered if she should ask the question that had been sitting on her tongue since she'd seen the man. Of course, asking if he was with someone would most likely be polite, she knew Carlos's nature. He'd be jealous if he'd heard her questioning another man about his dating life, even if it was just to maintain polite conversation. She was getting sick of the older man anyways - the only reason she'd still stuck around was the fact that he had money. So much lovely money that she'd just wanted to roll around in. "So," She ran her hand through her hair. "Are you here with anyone? I would have imagined someone that looks like you wouldn't have trouble getting some kind of arm candy for such an elitist event." Lucy observed, raising her eyebrow once more at the man beside her.