<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, Abraham Solomon, <<em><strong>really</strong></em>noticing Bella><br/><hr/><br/>Someone else might have missed the slight hitch in Abraham Solomon's greeting along with his smile momentarily disappearing, given how quickly the man recovered his composure and his smile, but not Ginny.  Her mother taught her from the cradle to pick up on all those little social cues and miscues and the blonde gambler carefully tucked that expression away while giving nothing away in return.  Instead, all that was offered was that same, bright, beaming smile that won hearts and emptied pockets.  Yes, Mary-Ann had trained her daughter well, in her very own image the locals might have praised the older woman had she also lived in Gomorra.  But no, Ginny's mother chose not to travel with the Whateleys and abandon the comforts of the South along with its culture and flair.  So in many ways, Ginny had grown up a bit like a wild rose - having long left her native Georgian roots and embraced the dangerous lifestyle of the Fast County.<br/><br/>The young Whateley could easily surmise why the owner of Babel's Tower was not quite so happy to see her.  He was no fool and must have known that her family had been interested in acquiring said piece of land.   Undoubtedly, he was wondering why she would be so interested in a table and perhaps suspecting something deeper was afoot.  And perhaps there was - but not on Ginny's part.  No, the blonde simply wanted a table because she previously had a table when this place had been owned by Mr. Sloane.  There was a feeling of pride that came with it, owning something solely her own and not her family's - it never crossed Ginny's mind that her table had been courtesy of all the double eagles her father had provided to her as her daily allotment or that the Whateley name might have been a draw to the Casino in terms of clientele.  No, the table had been Ginny's and she had been damned proud of it.<br/><br/>Though admittedly, there was also a small ulterior motive to her running her own table.  Ginny adored stories and in her opinion the best stories were told either by miners who had lived through a hard day in the Maze or Sweetrock men with a little too much drink and a little too loose of lips.  And while some lied and others exaggerated, little Miss Whateley was smart enough to piece together many things that were said.  So in one sense, she was seeking information - just not necessarily of the mysterious Abraham Solomon.  She was  confident<em>that </em>information would come to her naturally once she was secured her table.  And of course, any juicy gossip or anything else amusing that Ginny might overhear while dicing or playing cards would be repeated - why on God's green earth wouldn't it be?  She lived being the center of attention and the best way to do that at family gathering was to have stories to share; Granny normally loved most of Ginny's stories.<br/><br/>Such was Ginny's confidence in herself that she wasn't even surprised when Mr. Solomon acquiesced to her demand for her own personal table - really, in her mind, there had been no other option.  But what did surprise her was his follow up - though Ginny hid her surprise with a slow, practiced sip of the overly sweet wine.  And then, it was her turn to take a pause before answering and to consider the possibilities.<br/><br/>Honestly, the blonde didn't like the thought of being<em>employed </em>by Mr. Solomon.  She had never been wanting for money and somehow it felt wrong to be paid by him.  After all, she had plenty of coin - whether given to her by her father or earned at the poker tables - coin wasn't her objective.   On the surface it would seem like he was doing her a favor, but she did not see it that way.  To Ginny's sense, it seemed like Abraham Solomon was trying to establish clear lines of authority - him as the boss and her as an obedient subordinate  And while she had no desire to stir up the waves, she also little desire for this to be her...<strong><em>job</em></strong>.  That particular word was mentally spat out, not because Ginny had a problem with the nature of Babel's Tower, but instead with the thought of having a job.  Goodness gracious!  Whatever would her mother think!<br/><br/>But it would be gauche to directly refuse.  So Ginny tried a different tack, letting a look of surprise appear across her face.<strong>"Why Mistuh Solomon!  Ah cou'dn't let yuh do that!  T'wouldn't be proper!"</strong>Pausing artfully to allow for an inquiring gaze, she continued on.<strong>"Ah mean, ah dun think ah could w'ar the same thang ev'ryday!"</strong>She made a brief sweeping gesture to indicate all the hired help working and then coyly battled her lashes once more even as she leaned back subtly to let Abraham's gaze linger on her neck and the swell of her bosom if he so chose.  After all, he had leaned in and she understood what that meant.  Her last statement was meant to take any sting out of refusing the offer by making it a matter of her vanity.  Then, her counter-proposal followed.<strong>"Please Suh, think of muh <em><strong>borrowin'</strong></em> one o'yur tables.  Ah'm really payin' fer all the 'ours ah kin't be thar.  Ah wo'ldn't want yuh ta take ah loss."</strong><br/><br/>So kind Ginny was, always thinking of others.  Granny would have been proud.<br/><br/>Then the young Whateley was distracted by a woman's voice - but not the one she expected.  Forgetting herself momentarily, and her pose, Ginny whipped her head around and all but stared at Miss Bella Capri, a puzzled look on her face.  Wasn't Annie supposed to be singing first?  Why wasn't she signing first?  That puzzled look became a fuller frown even as she noticed the others gathered began to nod along in appreciation or stop what they were doing to listen to the dark-haired singer.  Stubbornly, Ginny set her jaw - Annie's singing was much better than this!  Whether that was the exact truth or not was perhaps debatable, but Ginny would stand by her friend resolutely.<br/><br/>The moment past and Ginny put back on a placid look and covered her feelings with another bright smile.<strong>"Wot a surpr'se!"</strong>she exclaimed, directing this to Abraham Solomon.<strong>"Ah thought Annie was performin' first, but ah suppose it's good tah save the best fer last."</strong>Her tone demanding an answer to a clear, unspoken question.