John raised an eyebrow at the wad of cash being waved in front of his nose.
"Come on," Sebastia prodded softly, "it'll be fun. Roll the dice, live a little."
John swallowed, trying to keep his calm composure. "Sebastia, I don't gamble."
Sebastia giggled and twirled, her red dress flaring out around her. She danced away a few steps, smirking at him. "Come on, John. Why not? It's not even your money."
He chuckled. "Is it even your money?"
She shrugged noncommittally, convincing him that it probably wasn't. He had expected it to be hers, really. He knew he shouldn't, but she had laid out a suit for him, and he rarely ever saw her dressed up. Last time he had seen her dressed up it was a wedding dress torn up the front and splattered with blood. He had to take this chance. His smile told her yes long before his lips could, and she grinned, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
"Well come on then, get dressed! The limo is waiting."
He paused for a moment. "Wait, wait, wait. Limo?"
She nodded and covered her eyes playfully as a sign for him to get changed. He pulled of his shirt and tossed it at her, smiled as she squealed and threw it back.
Soon they were on their way, drinking champagne in a stretch limo. She smiled smugly at him. He groaned good-naturedly and rolled his eyes.
"What?"
She simply shook her head. "Nothing. Just a little surprised. I didn't expect you to come." She took another sip of her champagne, the smugness fading away, the smile still there. The rest of the ride was spent in comfortable silence. When they arrived, she exited the limo with a flamboyant elegance. He followed behind quietly, blending in with her shadow until she took him by the arm and pulled him gently along. She swept into the rush, through the door and to the nearest table, breezing through everyone with a wave of bills. With moments they were at a table and he was raking in chips. She was cheering at his shoulder, perched like an ornament, making him feel like a king. She would whisper in his ear, give him suggestions, give him boosts of confidence. He could feel adrenaline coursing through his veins. He understood now why people could get so addicted. The showers of admiration every time he won. The cheers of encouragement when he lost. He soaked it in with glee until Sebastia tugged him away very late into the night. As they laid giggling on the ridiculously large, overly plush bed in the room that was easily covered by his winnings, he turned to her.
"Why'd you bring me here," he asked, as if it was the most ridiculous thing to do. He paused, sobering up as a flash of regret flashed through her eyes. "Sebastia?"
"I'll be back."
He winced as something was sprayed in his face, then everything went black.
When he woke up, his head was throbbing. He looked around and found her sitting in front of the vanity, brushing her wet hair. Her pretty red dress was splattered with a deeper crimson. He frowned. "You used me to get in here quietly. You bribed me." He saw her shoulders tense as his accusations flew. She stood and came to his side, sitting by him on the bed.
"I'm sorry, John."
He rolled his eyes and grimaced. "I don't want to hear it."
She took his hand, pleading creeping into her eyes. "John, you know I have to do this. You are in no way connected, I swear. Please forgive me?"
He sighed and closed his eyes. He could feel her leaning on his chest, her nose brushing his cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to. You've got to believe me."
"I forgive you, of course," he mumbled. He knew to be suspicious. He wasn't a child. He had come along through his own free will. She laid her head on his chest, sighing with relief.
"Thank you."
She let out a yelp as he swept her up in his arms, rolling on top of her. "But you owe me." She raised her eyebrow, awaiting an explanation. "I want more time on the tables."
She giggled underneath him. "Fine. But somewhere else."
"Somewhere more posh?"
She laughed. "Fine, but you're paying."