Lucky Room

*yo, back with a new one. I was gone for a bit cuz I was too tired to write. Had my hands full, so yeah, needed to handle some things here and there. I'm back tho, and we'll see how it goes. Take care, yall. Peace out and Deus vult*

Mark sighed, grinning from ear to ear as he imagined the things he could do and what might or might not happen. Penacony is a weird place, that is something he knew more than well from the mental hints that he was blasted with. Himeko stared at him with a deadpan expression, taking a good peek into his mind. 

"Mark... please don't tell me you're going to wander off on your own and cause trouble." 

He put a hand to his chest, putting on the best dramatized expression possible with wide eyes, taking a sharp breath followed by his drama queen voice. 

"How dare you accuse me of such insolence, Himeko? When have I done sketchy things...?" he said, the gears in his mind spinning. It took just a few seconds of silence and her wordless scolding for him to change to normal. "No need to answer. But seriously, don't worry. I'll only get my nose in just a teeny tiny bit... alright?" 

She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Stelle sighed, while March chuckled, and Welt simply stood to the side, hands on his cane. Mark's eyes moved to it slightly, getting a touch dizzy. It had a role in one way or another, perhaps something subtle that was in direct contact with the main questline. 

"Well, anyway, we should relax for now. You know how it goes. Relax and be on your toes, or else you lose the whole foot when the floor is lava." 

March chuckled some more, shaking her head slightly. 

"You sure love not making sense at times." 

He shrugged, closing his eyes for a moment as he took a deep breath. He felt a bit tired, perhaps a touch more than he'd like. The big space crammed with people, mixed with their encounter with Aventurine and The Family's brother and sister that make the cover for the festivities taking their toll on him. He had never been a social butterfly, so finding himself in such situations was even worse. 

"Yeah, I do, tho now I might even be a bit tired. I think we should go to our rooms." 

Himeko nodded, keeping up her usual composed demeanor that sparkled with elegance. Still, a tiny slouch in her shoulders could be noticed. 

"Mark is right. We should all head to our rooms. For now, remember: we get along with everyone." 

March looked at Mark, grinning as her eyes burned with mischief. 

"Mark, do you remember how we said we'd have to go for a shopping session?" 

He froze, his gaze hardening like that of a soldier, when enemy fire began bombarding the field, taking out his lifelong comrades in the flash of pure destruction. 

"March..." 

Himeko smiled, recalling the moment as well. 

"That's right, Mark. You did promise to come shopping with us. Come on, it will be fun. Besides, you need some casual clothing as well. Are you going to wear your combat gear all the time?" 

He nodded, looking down at the clothing. The belt was comfy around his middle, holding part of the coat steady, while the lower part draped over his knees, moving along with whatever gentle breeze happened to touch it. His shoes were a mix of comfort and utility, the pair of boots a mix between military gear and the comfort of sportswear. 

"You know that's not what worries me, Mark. You have a gauntlet on your left arm, wearing it all the way from the shoulder. How did you even come up with that design?" 

He shrugged, trying to recall his thought process. 

"I just thought it looked cool. I was drawing stuff there, and I said 'Why not add an entire metal arm in there since I plan on using a gauntlet anyway?' so I stuck with it. It's removable, tho, so no worries there." 

Himeko shook her head slightly, still amazed by the specter of emotions he was able to cause in others and experience himself. If not for the times he had opened up to her, she'd think most of his actions were simple ways for him to mock the world. Instead, he was coping to the best of his abilities. Loss, guilt, stress, fatigue... he needed to simply relax in Penacony. 

"We'll have fun, so don't worry. Just a quick shopping session," said March, playfully nudging him in the side. Mark was about to just walk back to the Express. 

"Meh, fine, I did say I'd go, but we'll do it my way. March agreed. It's time I teach you two how to do shopping effectively." 

Welt smiled slightly to the side, admiring the sight of the crew relaxing. It would have been nicer if Dan Heng would have come too, alas, he has his own issues to handle. 

They went on their own ways, each to their own room. Mark walked with Stelle since they were next door from each other, thanks to Aventurine's intervention. 

As they walked, the sight of Stelle's door being open came into view. 

"Weird... why is the door to my room open?" 

Mark sighed, speaking quietly. 

"Stelle, let me do the talking. This shit's bout to go down." 

She had not time to question him further. Inside the room, standing in the middle, was none other than everyone's favorite gambler. 

"How fortuitous, we meet again." 

Mark gave a light nod, smiling in a bit of an exaggerated manner, sort of like seeing an old friend and you willingly act goofy around them. 

"Heh, we sure do. So, what's up? Hanging around the place before you have to part ways with it?" 

He nodded, speaking in the same confident tone with clear hints of flamboyant arrogance thrown around. 

"Calm down, I'm just here to soak in the festive vibe. This may be the lady's room now, but half a system hour ago, it was mine." 

His eyes moved over to Stelle, his interest in her, not him. The one with the Stellaron that the IPC knows of. He, however, was nothing but the best ace kept up one's sleeve in the heat of the game with the highest stakes. 

"A lucky block number, a lucky floor, a lucky room number. You have no idea how much I went through to book this precious space... and now I've given it to you. Treasure it well, friend." 

Stelle looked at him carefully, unsure of what to say or how to act. She knew just as well about how cunning Aventurine is, his very demeanor loudly proclaiming his status as problematic. 

"You were the one who arranged the check-in?" asked Stelle, raising a brow. 

He shook his head. 

"No, no. I only let you have my room. It's for my other friend here that I had to arrange an entirely new room." 

Mark smirked, taking in a shallow breath, prepared for quite the rant and exchange of lines as Aventurine kept talking in the background. 

"Think about the type of people who can even afford to stay here. If it wasn't for my brilliant plan, do you think The Family would offend those bigwigs, just to sate the paltry whims of an unsought guest such as yourself?" 

Mark scoffed, grinning from ear to ear. He was ready to damn near test the man's luck and have a few swings at him, but he kept his cool, speaking in a similar tone like Aventurine, mocking him by playing the same role. 

"Well, my supposed bigwig comrade, I'll let you know one thing, and nothing more: that mouth of yours is a touch too large for a disposable piece of IPC shit. Don't think yourself too high above your station. Gamblers have luck until a certain point. If you think yours won't fail you, better know that no luck can save you from sheer power..." 

A moment of silence, followed by Aventurine's hearty laugh, which boomed in the room. 

"Oh, my friend, you sure are good at playing pretend, but don't let yourself be fooled... I can always walk the talk. So, how about we settle for a chat now? I'm sure I've earned that much." 

Stelle watched the exchange, her eyes darting from one man to the other. For her, it was like watching kindergarteners squabble over something, with how both threw around big words and talked smack. 

"I guess we can listen, right, Mark?" 

He glanced at Stelle, giving her a light nod and a tiny smile. 

"Sure, just gonna listen to his rambling for a bit. Go on, gambler boy." 

Aventurine chuckled, resting his left hand on his hip while using the right one to gesticulate as the thoughts came out. 

"Simply put, my friends, I need your help. You may or may not know this, but Penacony's far murkier than it seems. The Family's eyes are everywhere, but you get the drift." 

Mark felt a slight sting in the back of his head. It was from his words. They might have been under constant surveillance without any clue of it happening. 

"My goal is simple: help the IPC retrieve some things that belonged to them in the first place. If you agree, when this is tone, you will stand to reap great rewards, as well as the Preservation's protection." 

Mark's lips twitched up, a slight sign that Aventurine happened to catch wrong. He thought it as having hooked the fish, but Mark was actually laughing at the offer itself, doing his best to conceal his inner mechanization. Meanwhile, Aventurine looked at Stelle, blisfully unaware of the human nuke that was at his side. 

"It's clear you're not just one of the crowd. You possess a distinct quality, so magnetic that it could sway the outcome of any game. That *power*, you really don't wish to use it? Or... you don't want to be rid of it? Why not use it to etch your name across the stars?" 

He crossed his arms, still staring at Stelle with a smug look on his face. 

"The power that men both fear and desire is right in the palms of your hands... Miss Stellaron... have I hit the nail on the head?" 

Mark chucked, grabbing Aventurine's attention. 

"Oh, you sure love spitting random bullshit. Sorry, but Stelle's only superpower is rummaging through trash without any shame, no matter who's watching. So yeah, I don't know what you're talking about by calling her Miss Stellaron, but you're pretty much mentally ill in my eyes right now, Mister Gambler," crackled Mark, still laughing at the things said by Aventurine. Stelle had enough time to flare up and become red in the cheeks from embarrassment at Mark's statement, her reaction changed quickly from what Aventurine wanted to what Mark wanted to show. 

Even if he knew, which was probably the case, Mark didn't want it outright admitted. Sure, a lie that held no purpose, but it merely conveyed that their help wouldn't come to him willingly. Maneuvering behind the scenes is one, but outright getting help was not happening. 

"Well, whatever it is that you want to say. I sure don't mind looking insane, because... let's be honest. There's a bit of insanity in all of us, am I right?" 

If only he knew how deep the shadows that kept playing around Mark's vision went, reaching beyond the depth of sight, sinking deep into his soul. Claws, hands, jaws, and foreign limbs of all shapes and sides. He had gotten used to it to a certain extent, his eyes fixed in place rather than running for every hint of movement, but they were there, lurking, waiting, prepared to prey upon his soul should a moment of weakness fall on him. 

"Yeah, I can't deny that," replied Mark, laughing along as he spoke. Aventurine carried himself to the door, turning back before leaving. 

"Oh, yes, before I go, let's play another game—a simple game—to get to know each other better. You just have to guess which hand the chip is hiding in. It'll help me get a better grasp on your personalities and the way in which you do things..." 

Mark shook his head, crossing his arms while staring at Aventurine's palms. 

"Fuck off with the bullshit. You'd pull a sleight of hand or something. I know your kind. The chip would probably be hidden in plain sight and made to appear and vanish at a moment's notice. That's the type of man YOU are." 

Aventurine smirked, showing something in his eyes that was closer to the insanity they spoke of earlier. He stepped closing, tossing the chip from one hand to another. It vanished, and soon Stelle woke up with it in her hand. 

"Friends, the game has already begun. Allow me to make you an offer, one you cannot refuse." 

The door swung open, and Mark grinned from ear to ear about what was about to happen. The events had flashed through his mind instantly, and he simply laughed along. There, in the door, stood Acheron, looking pissed. 

"What are you doing in my room?"