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When he steps into the casino, he remembers why he avoided it as a younger man. The flashing lights, clattering coins and laughter all make Dimitri’s head throb, and he vows that if Clive ever pulls a stunt like this again, he’ll shut the whole place down.
It doesn’t take long for him to find the man in question, leaning over a roulette table with a stupid grin on his face. A crowd is gathered around him, no doubt due to the sizable stakes of the game, egging him on as the roulette wheel spins round and round, the ball joining it.
The noise dies for a second, before the crowd is in an uproar again. Another win for the champion, evidently.
Through the small gaps, he sees Clive in an embrace with a woman, who giggles as he whispers something, his lips closer to her ear than they need to be. Next to them lies a collection of empty wine glasses.
Inhaling, Dimitri allows himself one more moment of peace – or as much of it he can get in his setting – before he strides over to the table.
The instant people see his hat, their elation turns to fear, and it takes seconds before the area around them is empty. The only one remaining is the girl, who stares up at him in bewilderment, but doesn’t move away from Clive’s hold. The man himself glances at Dimitri, equal parts amused and annoyed.
“I need to speak with this young gentleman here.”
“A-Ah!” She looks at Clive. “I’ll leave, right now. I’m-”
“Now now, there’s no rush,” Clive interrupts, his words slurred but nonetheless charming. He flashes her a smile. “Despite all the rumours, I’m certain that Mr Layton here is a reasonable man.”
He doesn’t rise to Clive’s bait, but remembers it for later. Focusing his gaze on the girl, he places a hand on the brim of his hat. “Hm. Penelope, is it?”
The widening of her eyes tells him he’s right, but he’d already known that.
“You live near Flatstone Street, with your uncle and aunt. It’s been a while since I’ve been in that area.” He pauses. “Perhaps I’ll make a trip there.”
She wrenches herself away from Clive, and in the next instant she’s gone.
Clive huffs, staggering away from him and taking a seat. He pours himself a glass of wine and sips it a moment before he gives up on restraint, the whole drink poured down his throat.
“What the hell are you playing at?!” Dimitri hisses, slamming his hands on the bench.
Clive stares at his own fingertips as they drum against the wood in a meaningless pattern. “If I own a casino,” he begins slowly, “I am damn well going to use it.”
Dimitri yanks Clive’s arm, forcing him to face him. “You could have jeopardised everything tonight! You’re supposed to be lying low, not causing a scene!”
Shaking him off, Clive moves to pour himself another drink. Dimitri gets to the bottle first and places it away from his reach, and it’s only then that Clive looks up at him to scowl.
“Everybody was having a fine old time until you arrived,” he replies, leaning on the bench. “But the fearsome Hershel Layton striding in? That caused a scene.”
“I wouldn’t have had to come here, if you weren’t drinking yourself stupid.”
“I’m plenty smart.” He raises his hands and laughs, but Dimitri doesn’t miss the way he wobbles on his chair. “Come on, Professor, give me a puzzle! Isn’t that what Luke Triton would say?”
“We’re leaving.” He grabs Clive by the arm and directs him towards the exit, and for the first time that evening the other man acts reasonably by not protesting.
They manage to make it halfway back to the Pagoda before he can’t suppress the urge to speak any longer. “Things will be put into motion a week from now. Why you chose tonight of all times to act out is beyond me.”
Clive snorts in response, nearly tripping over his feet.
When he reaches Clive’s room, he wants to dump the idiot outside it and leave him to his own devices, but he remembers the devilish look on Clive’s face and decides he can’t risk that. Instead, he unlocks the door and takes him inside. Sitting down immediately, Clive takes off his hat and closes his eyes.
The scolding hasn’t worked, and of course it wouldn’t; Clive isn’t a child. But he needs him to understand.
“We’re nearly there, Clive, we must stay on task,” Dimitri urges as he fetches a glass of water. “Everything has gone to plan so far. The Future London has convinced the scientists, and my time machine research is coming along better than I’d hop-”
He stops as Clive sniggers.
Placing the water next to him, he can’t help but glare. “Is something amusing?”
Clive opens his eyes, and for a second, madness flashes through them. He stands and comes face to face with Dimitri, closer than he’s comfortable with. Opening his mouth, he then bites his lip, as though he is physically restraining something that’s trying to escape.
“Everything,” he eventually says. The word is pronounced with particular care, and stretched out for emphasis. Even after it’s said, Dimitri imagines it lingering on Clive’s lips, which are turned upwards.
Ignoring the chill it gives him, Dimitri turns to leave. There’s no reasoning with Clive in this state, so he will have wait until morning. He hopes the other man won’t wake up with a hangover so they can get work done, but at the same time, feels it would be a fitting punishment.
“Goodnight, Professor,” Clive calls.
“Goodnight,” Dimitri mutters, closing the door.