Mr. Moore is eating at his regular table at Mon Dieu. The four empty chairs are at his side as he elegantly cuts into his steak. With relish, he takes a bite from his meat and relishes the taste. Pausing he reaches over for his red wine and sips the wine. With a sigh of pleasure, he once reaches for his fork to grab another piece of steak.

 Four figures rapidly approach and seat themselves at the table. Only one of the figures orders a meal, Mr. Jones, whilst the rest decline the server’s invitation to order. Mr. Jones smiles in a pleased expression and says, “I must say, Moore, you outdid yourself this time. I thought you were being a tad too passive, but the results are simply wonderful.”

Mr. Moore smiles cordially in response, Mr. Nazari rolls his eyes, before taking a sip from his water glass. Tassarion crosses his arms over his chest in annoyance, Wistari merely smiles faintly in response, before reaching over and patting Tassarion on his knee.

Mr. Jones ignores the four faces and continues to boast. “I’m sure that will teach them. Newcomers the lot of them need to know their places. I’m certain that the opening will be a failure and I dare bet the auction house will fail by the end of the mouth by the latest,”

Mr. Nazari smiles winningly and says, “I’ll take that bet. How much is the wager?” He pauses and turns towards the other members of the table. “Tassarion and Wistari care to join a wager?” Mr. Nazari impishly said, half hoping they would.

 Tassarion stiffly retorts, “I don’t wager.”

 Mr. Nazari and Mr. Jones smirk back at the scowling elf. Wistari sighs prettily and says, “Now, now, I don’t see the harm if he doesn’t want to participate. There is wisdom to be said in not defying fate.”

   Mr. Nazari’s eyes narrow at the candid response. “Yes, but we’re only humans. It is in our nature to attempt to defy fate,” Mr. Nazari coolly stated.

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Wistari smiles sweetly but does not deem a worthy response. Tassarion, on the other hand, does very little to hide his condescending gaze of arrogance. Before another battle can erupt, Mr. Jones hastily interjects, “Very well, let us wage money. Shall we say, $10 million? Chump change, but nothing that will hurt the pride of whoever loses, but most surely will be you, Mr. Nazari. It is already finalized”

   “Yes, you may be right. But I do so enjoy betting on the underdog. Of course, a bet wouldn’t be a bet without any heart wrenching loses. Let’s add an extra bet, Jones. In the unlikelihood, that Miss Reed’s auction house doesn’t go out of business, but becomes a success, I want the dragon bone. And if I lose, I’ll give you, sky phoenix,” Mr. Nazari confidently said, while Mr. Jones contemplated the offer. The rest of the group eyes Mr. Nazari with puzzled eyes, whereas Mr. Moore studies Mr. Nazari with calculating eyes.

 “It’s basically your win, Jones, what do you have to lose?” Mr. Nazari convincingly purred.

 Mr. Jones wrestles with himself before saying, “Fine, but I want everyone to be witnesses for the bet. I don’t want you to suddenly get cold feet over your inevitable loss.”

“That’s the spirit, old man,” Mr. Nazari said with a twinkle in his eye, cheerfully slapping Mr. Jones on the back causing him to move forward. Mr. Jones glares at the Arabic man, who hastily removes his hand from Mr. Jones back. Mr. Nazari rapidly excuses himself for a moment upon spotting a lovely damsel at another table. With a roguish glint, Mr. Nazari strides over to the damsel’s table. After all, Mr. Nazari was infamous for charming even the birds out of the sky. The poor maiden didn’t stand a chance.

A server carefully takes the plate from the table as Mr. Moore finishes wiping his mouth with the napkin in his lap. Folding his napkin, Mr. Moore aloofly says, “Mr. Jones, I would not have recommended betting with Mr. Nazari.”

 Mr. Jones brows furrow and he says, “Mr. Moore, I fail to see the problem. It’s just a friendly bet between mutual acquaintances.”

“It’s like Mr. Nazari stated, humans tend to attempt to defy fate it’s human nature. No matter how certain an outcome is, there is always a chance that will change,” Mr. Moore murmured, before taking a sip of his red wine. Mr. Jones becomes still in thought as the other two merely wait in silence for the return of Mr. Nazari. After all, this was a business meeting and not a social gathering of friends. Because no one would dare treat each other as friends lest they are stabbed earlier in the back than expected.