It was just as she was praying he didn't recognise her that he managed to place her. The daughter of a man who'd caused him quite a few headaches, and even beaten him to some of his money... He vaguely even worked out her name, though he didn't intend to let her keep it. He looked very unimpressed at her and, for a few moments, he stared at her and let their eyes duel. Neither of them were likely to back down - both were too used to getting what they wanted! - but it was him that could let out a small half-formed laugh and break the stare first, from his position of power.<br/><br/>"Yes, though leave her legs with enough slack so that she can walk. My carriage is outside, and I will be leaving now." He pulled a heavy sack of coins from his hip, and counted out the small fortune he owed into a waiting, thick hand. It wasn't exactly normal to do this in the middle of the audience, certainly, and there were a few eyes watching the trade... But he had more money than patience, and it was simply easier. While one man took his coin, another held her tightly and pushed her arms to her side, before yet another brutish fellow wrapped a strap around her midsection, closing both of her arms uncomfortably to her side in the process. She was acutely aware of how poorly the men smelled, and how rough their hands were... It was undoubtedly an omen of things to come. Her legs found themselves bound, too, a pair of heavy metal manacles with just enough chain between them that she could walk, but running would likely make her trip or stumble.<br/><br/>And that concluded their business. Quentin pushes his hands into his pocket and turned smartly on one heel to walk out of the place. One finger beckoned her along, though it was of course one of the men that walked for her and ushered her forcefully behind.<br/><br/>They breached the crowd and moved down the stairs, her noble owner still seeming rather stoney faced... Neither enjoying his prize, nor angry that she'd run. And that placid nature lasted til they were outside and the auction-muscle was 'helping' her into the back of quentins motorized carriage. The device looked like a horse-drawn carriage would - it was large, boxy, and covered in a royal-inspired hue of red - except that it had no horses, and instead the wheel's spun under the effects of a motor, and was turned by the driver sat on top. As the engine switched on there was a hiss and steam began to blow from beneath the vehicle... And then she was being pushed rather firmly inside.<br/><br/>The interior sported one long, padded bench facing forward, another facing back, and a table in between. It was very civilised, and quite definitely a mark of status... Motor vehicles were becoming more common, but still only amongst the city's elite. In front of each bench was a small footwell, which is where Zoey found herself. Her pinned arms made getting up difficult, but if Quentin hadn't rested his feet on one of her legs like she were a footrest she might've had a chance. Unfortunately, that was exactly what he did do.<br/><br/>Quentin climbed up behind her and slipped one hand from it's long white glove, before pulling the door shut. "Drive us home, quick smart!" He called out to the driver, to the response of "Aye sir" and a surge of motion as they lurched forward. Then he slipped the second hand from his glove, held the two long pieces of thin, leathery fabric, and bought them slapping hard across his new acquisitions face. "Don't you -ever- think of running again, Girl, or I swear to all that's holy I will strike you down."<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>