<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/4c/Ginny_06a.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Virginia<em><strong>'Ginny'</strong></em>Mary Lou Whateley<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Whateley Family<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 11th, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Babel's Tower Foyer<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Open, <remarks to Jaelyn>, <looking for Abraham Solomon>, <waiting for Annabel Montgomery><br/><hr/><br/>There was a timing to everything life.  It was a lesson Ginny had learned as a little girl sitting in the lap of her mother while the older woman fussed with the young Whateley's hair, teasing out the tangles of those golden, blonde locks with an ivory comb.  At least when she could be bothered to do so; normally, Mary-Ann Westhoff-Whateley left such menial and mundane things to one of the many southern housekeepers employed to ensure everything in their house was arranged in a picture-perfect way.  But every so often the older woman's fingers would itch, particularly when Ginny came back in from playing out in the yard with her cousins - tiny twigs sticking out of her blonde curls.<br/><br/>A woman should never be rushed; a woman should always be gracious if she were the host and graceful if she were the guest.  On and on, the pithy wisdom of her mother droned as Ginny didn't try and pay too much attention.  No, as a young girl, the young Whateley only had her sharp green eyes on one thing - the plate of sugary lemon squares and a pitcher of sweet tea resting on the small, white dining table.  And before too long, she would be happily gobbling up the delicious treats.<br/><br/>Those were the warm, happy memories of a childhood spent back in Georgia and honestly while Ginny felt a pang of nostalgia from time to time - she knew she was only being overly sentimental.  Her mother normally never was<em>that </em>warm and a singular happy memory did not outweigh all the others that the young Whateley harbored deep inside - of her father and her mother, Whateleys and Westhoffs, a marriage between two families that was never going to last beyond its first year.  Hidden beneath a charming smile that most men swore was only reserved for them, no one would have ever suspected the heavier thoughts weighing on Ginny's mind.<br/><br/>No, the only thing that the young Whateley seemed most concerned with was where she should spent her golden eagles for the day.<br/><br/>Still, the lessons from Mary-Ann Westhoff had served well as Ginny trotted up to the doors of the new establishment, the Babel's Tower.   Idly, she glanced up at the sign - the arrogant tower pointing at the sky in defiance to the Lord God Almighty - and wondered if either of the fathers would use it as their subject material during the worship time this Sunday.  She was treading the fine line of being<em><strong>'fashionably late'</strong></em>and just plain<em><strong> 'late'</strong></em>and doing a very good job.  The crowds had cleared - men and woman eager to slake their thirst with the free alcohol - leaving a clear and unimpeded path outside of a girl who didn't know if whether she should go inside or faint dead away given the scarlet hue on her cheeks.  Ginny's vivid green eyes shot past the other girl's shoulder and suppressed a snort at the other woman's timidness.  Compared to the happenings at Casino Morongo, the Babel's Tower main room seemed downright mundane - her type would never make it in the Fast County.<br/><br/>Clearing her throat loudly - even though there was plenty of room to walk past -  Ginny made sure the other woman glanced at her.<strong>"Ain't got no sense, standin' in way of e'rebody,"</strong>she said critically, making sure to turn her nose up as she went by.<strong>"Yuh either git in or git out; yuh dun jist stand thar, gapin' like a jackanapes."</strong>Her insult expertly delivered, Ginny then made her way triumphantly in - entering into the growing raucous atmosphere of revelry.<br/><br/>The young Whateley had come dressed for the occasion, not wearing her usual cowboy leathers, but a voluminous dress that was maroon in color.  Pink frills and fancy white lace decorated the fringes and Ginny had chosen a pair of long matching gloves to go with it.  Sewn pearls decorated it tastefully at strategic places where the eye might linger - at the hem and around the bodice.  The cut of the dress was the latest in French fashion that she could lay her hands on and the young Whateley proudly did it justice with a preening, feminine strut designed to gain the attention of both men<em><strong>and </strong></em>women.   The men - so they could admire pretty little Miss Whateley - and the women - so they could secretly go home later tonight and gnaw on their livers.  Honestly, the price of the dress could easily purchase a hefty plot of land in parts of Gomorra and Ginny adored that particular fact - that she alone was one of the privileged few who could afford such a garment.<br/><br/>Once inside, Ginny made her slow rounds - making sure just about everyone saw her - and enjoying how the conversation slowed and then died wherever she walked past as men stopped to stare.  And hiding a playful grin, Ginny wondered if Annie would wear what the young Whateley had purchased her.  The lovely singer - who could almost past for Ginny's sister - had asked her to help a little in preparation for the opening night, which had delighted the blonde gambler to no end.  She had forcibly dragged Annie around an entire day - picking this and picking that - and now she was hoping that Annie would chose to wear the matching dress Ginny had picked for her.  The two of them would be a sensation - and if there was one thing that was true about Virginia Whateley - i t was that she wasn't shy about being the center of attention.<br/><br/>Swinging by the bar, Ginny made sure to pick up her drink - in this case, a delicate flute of wine served in fancy crystal.  She made sure to pay for it, flashing a golden eagle at barkeep - who was only too happy to accept her money.  Whateley gold was as good as anyone else's.   After all, it wouldn't do for Ginny to drink what everyone else was drinking - how churlish that would be!<br/><br/>And while waiting for her drink she made sure to scan the crowds with those sharp, green eyes - Whateley eyes inherited from her father - to find out Abraham Solomon.  Her purpose was two-fold.  The first was simple curiosity; Ginny understood that there had been some interest in her family about purchasing the casino property once Mr. Sloane had left.  Any news about this mysterious owner would be popular gossip around the dinner table when she returned back to see Grandma.<br/><br/>But secondly, and more importantly to Ginny, she wanted an exclusive table - much like she had in the past at Casino Morongo.  A place for her to host games of chance, to hear the shuffle of well-worn cards and see the glitter of gold and silver as it was carelessly tossed out on the table.  The place where men lived and died - there was nothing more exhilarating to the young Whateley than savoring the ecstasy and the despair of men who stood to win or lose everything.<br/><br/>That was what Ginny wanted - and what Ginny wanted - there were precious few who could stop her.  Hidden behind that winsome smile was a muley stubbornness a mile wide - inherited from her mother - the good Lord bless her soul.  And Ginny wasn't about to let Abraham Solomon be one of those precious few from stopping her from getting what she wanted.