(http://img.wennermedia.com/social/ben-affleck-zoom-b2a7da16-9198-42c0-98e4-92de6f1659c6.jpg)<br/><br/><strong>Name/Occupation:</strong>Barnaby Temple, Billionaire (and Host)<br/><strong>Time/Day:</strong>Late Afternoon, Day 1<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Master Bedroom<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>The master is not to be disturbed!<br/><hr/><br/>Temple had sequestered himself in his private bedroom, one that not even the staff had access to. It was designed with a fingerprint lock or, with a six-digit numeric code he shared with none of them if anything should prevent him using his hands. Of course, if he happened to both have injured fingers that were wrapped up and he happened to be too drunk to remember the number, well, there were plenty of other bedrooms to pass out in.<br/><br/>It wasn't that he didn't trust most of his staff; to be honest, if they knew half of what he'd done to ensure they ended up in his pocket, they'd probably burn the place down and make it look like an accident. But the old saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, always appealed to him and was the impetus for the evening's gathering. Each and every one of his specially selected guests had had the privilege, thus far at least, of getting on his bad side and facing no repercussions for it. Karma was a bit too slow for the curmudgeonly miser, and he decided to mete out judicious punishment for their cheek, their arrogance or their simple unwillingness to cater to his whims as he saw fit. He went to great lengths and great expense to provide the crucial, damning objects of blackmail he intended to rub in their faces at the dinner party. They would either storm out in humiliation and impotent rage, or stay the night as they had been invited, for their last night of security and luxury or, in some cases, their last night outside of a prison cell. It's good to the King.<br/><br/>He sipped a glass of scotch, reading a newspaper absentmindedly, going over in his head just how to present the evening's festivities. A projector for slide shows and videos of the various blackmail footage he had compiled, or in other cases, hard copies (or rather, copies of hard copies) of anything that would implicate his guests or their businesses or their families in any number of crimes and misdemeanors or other publicly taboo acts or behaviors. The looks on their faces would be priceless, worth every dime he sank into the research, the illicit agents he bribed to procure such secrets, and the labors it took to conceal all of this from his staff. He would not put it past them to warn some of his guests, perhaps even try to steal some of the blackmail material. No, for tonight all they knew (as far as he was concerned) was that he was having several guests over that he'd never mentioned in conversation or ever invited over before, and who appeared largely to have nothing in common. Like good little dogs, they asked nothing about it and carried on working harder than usual to prepare for the welcoming and hosting.