His jaw set furiously as he tucked in behind his daughter, his body shaking with indignant rage. How *dare* Quentin do those things; did the fool not know who he was? Even if he'd had to sell Zoey, this crossed the line and then some.<br/><br/>By the time Zoey had pushed the door to Quentins room open, her father had balled up fists and a look of sheer rage masking his face. He stormed across the room to confront his rival and, sure enough, there was a moment where he looked primed to start throwing punches. "Youuu bastard, Aritas. You absolute budgeting *bastard*. You bring me here to sho-"<br/><br/>The other man lifted a glass full the brandy, shook it side to side, and with that defused some of the assault. He smirked thinly as the other man snatched the drink and stepped back with a growl. The situation was not resolved, but, for the moment...<br/><br/>"Be quiet and sit down. You sold her, Terrance, in case you forgot." He had to wave a hand to stall the wave of abuse building in the other man's throat, before continuing. "I thought you might want a chance to make some of it back, so I invited you here with the intention of playing cards. I hear you are more able at that than at business."<br/><br/>He waved to a chair that was set opposite its twin and a small, square table. Terrance, though, was not to be fuelled, and he spat out words angrily. "Liar, you bought me to show me my darling daughter. Arse." He sniffed though, and then nodded. "Fine, though. I'll lighten your pockets for you... I'm dealing."<br/><br/>Quentin nodded, and went to sit. Soon their hands were dealt and - with Zoey forgotten - they were playing cards for mostly-small chunks of money.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>