"Hm...my best friend senses are tingling," said Titus Irving, his head swiveling to glance back over his shoulder. "Patrick must be experiencing something really amazing right now."

"Must he, now?" Karim threw him a sideways glance, his right hand clenching tightly around the hilt of his sabre. "I wish I were with him, then."

"Awww, come on!" Grinning broadly, Titus slung an arm around Karim's shoulders. Or at least half a shoulder, which was about as far as his arm could reach. "Don't pull such a long face! Haven't I brought you out with me for some fabulous entertainment?"

"Yes," Karim stated dourly, his grim eyes fixed on the sign above the door ahead of them that read Ginny's Girl and Gambling Den. Judging by the bodyguard's expression, it might as well have read abandon hope, all ye who enter here. "Fabulous, I'm sure."

"Come on, my new friend!" Tightening his grip on all the parts of Karim he could reach, Titus started guiding the bodyguard towards the entrance. "Relax! Have some fun! Let your beard—ehem, hair down!"

Karim sent the smaller man a glare that promised death, destruction and hellfire. "If you ever breathe one word about my setting a foot in this establishment, I shall introduce you to my father's talwar!"

"Um...is talwar a word for a beautiful courtesan?"

Karim placed a hand on the pommel of his sabre. "What do you think?"

"Oy!"

Both of them froze in place, then turned around. There was nothing behind them.

"Down here, shitheads!"

They looked down, only to come knee-to-face with Maximus the Marvellous and his beloved friend, Mr Whiskey Bottle.

"Are we done wasting time?" the imp demanded, raising his flask into the air. "This thing is nearly empty, and I need a refill!"

"I am surrounded by sinners," Karim pronounced gloomily.

"Nah, we're both in front of you, your other sides are still free," Titus cheerfully corrected him. Then he turned the bodyguard back towards the entrance of the gambling den. "But you're about to be surrounded."

"You're going to pay for this."

"Oh no, no!" Titus beamed. "This will all go on Patrick's tab!"

And before Karim could get out anything in response, he was grabbed by the smaller man and, somehow, impossibly, dragged into the building. The moment he passed the doorstep, he seemed to regret it.

"Welcome, Sir," purred a voice from his right.

"'ow may I serve ye, Sir?" came a seductive whisper from his left.

"By putting on a poncho and taking twenty steps back?" Karim suggested, not daring to glance at the scantily-clad women who had flanked him.

Unfortunately, all that evoked as a response was a flood of giggles and two arms sneaking up to link with his.

"You lucky dog!" Titus nudged the bodyguard's ribs with his elbow, and survived solely due to both of Karim's arms being occupied and unable to retaliate. "They never treat me like that."

Karim sent the nobleman a glare that could kill a mountain grizzly at sixty paces. "I wonder why."

"You don't really have to. It's because I never really have money to spend."

The bodyguard suddenly seemed hopeful. "What if I tell them that I don't have any, either?"

Titus smirked. "Then I'll tell them who your employer is and how deep his pockets are."

"I shall get revenge on you one day!"

"I'm sure you will."

Desperately, Karim looked around, searching for any possible way to free himself from the two women who were currently inspecting him, trying to assess him as a prospective client. But, before he could make any escape attempt, a sweet little voice piped up from further below:

"Um...sorry?" a small, cherubic face peeked around Karim's trouser leg. "Big sis? Is that you?"

"Awww!" The two women squealed. Instantly, they fell prey to the power of the doe-eyes and turned from greedy hookers into a woman-shaped pamper-machines. Bending down, the blonde one snatched the little figure up. "Will you look at that? Who's this little sweety?"

"I'm Max," the little angel smiled shily. "You aren't my big sis, are you? But you look just as pretty as her!"

"So sweet!" Beaming at the compliment, the young woman hugged him close. Very close. Then she sent an accusing look at Titus. "Why didn't you ever bring him before?"

"Oh, trust me," Titus assured her, while he stared daggers at the innocently grinning Max, who had his face firmly nestled in the lady's cleavage. "I had my reasons."

A moment later, the other young woman swooped down on Max.

"Hey, don't 'og 'im all ta yerself! I want some cuddles, too!"

"Oy! Wait yer turn!"

"Don't be so greedy! You wanna get some hugs from me as well, cutie, don't ye?"

Thus ensued a cheerful bout of bickering. Without even bothering to glance back at the two men, the two young ladies and their charge moved away down the corridor. Max the Marvellous stuck his head over the shoulder of his current transport and stuck his tongue out.

"I've decided," Titus declared. "I really hate that little squirt."

"Horrifying prospect though it may be," Karim growled, "I find myself in agreement with you."

Another attendant approached them with a smiling face, this one, to Titus's deep disappointment, undeniably male.

"Pardon me, gentlemen." With a broad and not at all smarmy smile, the man bowed. "You look in need of some relaxation time. May I lead you to the lounge? We offer a wide variety of drinks and refreshments, and there are many activities in which you could indulge. The first three games are on the house."

Oh boy, they were good. They were really good. One of the reasons, Titus admitted to himself, why he seldom came here. If he went gambling somewhere, he preferred it to be in a place where he had at least a one percent chance of winning.

If gambling with his own money, that is.

"Yes, by all means lead us to the lounge!" Smiling widely, Titus spread his arms, as if welcoming all the world's bills for his best friend. "I would love to do a spot of gambling."

"Excellent, excellent! Please follow me, Mr...?"

"The Honourable Mr Titus Irving," he informed the attendant, his back straight, his chest puffed out in accordance with the arrogant, dissolute, nouveau riche persona he was supposed to assume for his mission. Somehow, he didn't find it very difficult. "That boulder right there," he jabbed a finger at the massive figure beside him, "is my bodyguard, Karim. Find some corner for him, but..." Lowering his voice, he whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, "...don't let him anywhere near the gambling tables or the ladies. He's an addict."

"As you wish, Sir!" The servant bowed deeply, seeming not to notice the grinding of teeth coming from the mountain of smoldering explosives that was Karim. "He shall be closely watched."

"Oh, and find my boy toy, will you?" With all the arrogance he could muster, he glanced around. "The brat seems to have run off somewhere with some female members of your staff." Pulling a stack of notes he had pilfered from a certain best friend out of his pocket, he held some out to the attendant. "I trust he will be speedily found and returned to my side?" He let a lascivious smile play around his lips. "I still have plans for him tonight."

Guardian deity of all straight and sane men, please forgive me!

"Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!"

And together, the two of them let themselves be led towards the lounge. It only took moments before they were once more surrounded by commendably scantily-dressed, well-endowed ladies. Grinning broadly, Titus glanced from left to right at the two women clinging to his arms. It was decided. He really had to go on secret missions for justice more often.

From behind him, he could hear the muffled protests of a certain bodyguard, followed by a distinctly unmanly yelp as Karim had to dodge another few ladies of the night. Titus's grin widened. Oh yes, much more often.

"We have arrived, Sirs." With a sweeping bow, the male servant stopped and indicated the door before them. "Welcome to the lounge."

The doors slid open and revealed...

Well, if anyone called it a "lounge", it would be a stretch.

What it was, in fact, was a hell for the honourable. A heaven for hedonism. Around a number of tables, chaise longues and cushions were spread out on the floor, and people lounged everywhere, laughing, swigging, gambling and engaging in various activities that required an acute lack of clothing. Chatter and laughter echoed through the room, and above the people's heads, cigar and opium fumes mixed in a sweetly poisonous miasma.

"Ah..." Rubbing his hands, Titus let his eyes slide over the vista, lingering on various bits and pieces of exposed pink. "What a charming establishment you have here!"

"You know," Karim's low growl, "you're really amazingly convincing as a dissolute reprobate!"

"Pure acting ability," Titus whispered back with a quirk of the lips. "Pure acting ability, my friend."

"I'm sure."

"Thank you for your compliment!" The excited attendant exclaimed, bobbing his head. "Now, what service can I offer your esteemed Excellency?"

Titus grinned. Excellency? Apparently, his generosity had already brought him a status upgrade. Nice.

"A seat at the roulette table would be nice. Or rather...make it three." He gave a low, malevolent chuckle. "One for me, and two for the beauties you'll send my way."

"Yes, Sir! Straight away, Sir!"

And he dashed off, his eyes almost blinking with pound sterling signs.

"You are really, really, really amazing at playing the dissolute reprobate," Karim growled.

"Aww, stop with the compliments! You're making me blush!"

"I could quite easily," the bodyguard suggested, cracking his knuckles. "I hear people's faces turn red very quickly when one strangles them."

"You know, I'm really glad I brought you with me. You're so amazingly helpful." Reaching out, Titus patted the bigger man's shoulder. "I'm sure we'll turn out to be best friends."

"Do you want to lose that hand? If not, remove it!"

"See?" Titus beamed. "We're already on the way to best friends! That's the way Patrick always talks to me, too!"

Then, before his new friend could grab a chair and smash it over his head, Titus linked his arms with the two beautiful ladies who had appeared on either side of him and skipped off towards the roulette table. Pulling out a stack of Patrick's money, he sent a smile into the round of players and slammed the notes onto the table.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gents! Now...how exactly do you play this game?"

Twenty minutes and five thousand lost pounds later, a servant hurried over to Titus and deposited a grumpy imp next to him. A cherubic face that might as well be plastered between a pair of angel wings turned to glare at Titus, and a stubby little finger stabbed into his chest.

"You...! You dragged me away from my ladies, you bloody wanker!"

"Be glad I did," Titus answered, far too engrossed in his game to even glance at the midget. "They might have stopped cuddling you and noticed the words coming out of your mouth, otherwise."

"Shut your face, shit head!"

Titus sent a meaningful look down at the little fellow.

All he got back in answer was a glare. "Ha! You're just jealous 'cause you don't know how to talk to wenches, you bloody wimp! And that ain't the only thing you're shitty at! Look at this!" A pudgy hand gestured to the swiftly dwindling pile of cash in front of the Titus. "You can't even gamble properly! And you wanna pull off this operation? Dream on!"

"En contraire, my miniscule friend, en contraire!" Giving Max a superior smile, Titus patted his head. Lowering his voice so no one else could hear, he continued: "This is all part of my master plan for gathering information."

"It is?"

Knowingly, Titus tapped his nose. "Oh yes. After all, consider this: who do you think will have looser tongues, people who just lost huge amounts of money to you, or people who just won big? Won big against someone whom they're desperate to keep at the table because he still has deep pockets full of cash?"

"That's amazing!"

Titus preened. "I know, right? Thank you for your compliment."

"You've found such an extraordinary excuse for sucking at gambling! You're really talented at bullshitting!"

Titus aimed a swipe at the back of Max's head, but the little squirt had already ducked out of the way, cackling. A moment later, Titus felt eyes from all around fixed on him.

My, my, what an opportunity. Let's test my acting prowess, shall we?

"You impudent imp!" Titus growled, his voice this time clearly audible over the chatter around the roulette table. "You've insulted me for the last time! I've half a mind to sell you, later!"

Max the Marvellous put on a pitiful expression. "You wouldn't! After all, if you did, who would warm your bed at night?"

Titus's face twitched. He didn't miss the wicked grin that flashed over the imp's face for just a moment.

Calm, Titus, calm, he told himself. You like ladies. Mature, well-endowed ladies. This is just pretend. Your reputation is not going to suffer from this.

The women on either side of him slid away ever so slightly.

Darn!

Taking a deep breath, Titus pulled himself together. Don't lose your head, Titus. Because if you make a mess of this little operation and have to come here again, a certain bodyguard may make sure you lose it in a more literal way.

All right. Time to do the thing he hated most in this world: go to work.

Fortunately, that work happened to consist of gossiping and gambling. Just goes to show there's always a silver lining.

"So, tell me," Titus murmured, leaning over towards a fat man who sat a few seats over, a large pile of chips in front of him. "Are your own toys and servants just as troublesome? Is there any way to keep them in line?"

The old fatty gave a chuckle. "That's young people for you! Always too mild and sparing with the stick. You should just give those peasants the hiding they deserve, and they'll fall in line soon enough."

"Yes..." Forcing a smile onto his face, Titus nodded stared at the man. "Hitting people can be amazingly satisfying sometimes. Too bad you can't do it in public."

The man snorted. "Quite right you are! All those namby-pamby nitwits in the government coming up with those ridiculous laws...as if disciplining your servants could ever be considered a crime. Some people just deserve to get beaten on a regular basis!"

Titus's hand clenched into a fist around the chips he was holding under the table. Above the table, he sent the other man a broad smile. "I couldn't agree with you more!"

"Ha! So nice to meet a young man who knows how to listen to good advice from his elders! They're so rare these days."

"I wonder why..."

"Huh? What was that?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing." Waving one hand, Titus offered a glass of wine with the other. "Drink?"

"Why, I wouldn't say no to that. Thank you! Now..." A wicked smile spread over the old fatty's face as he eyed Titus's remaining pile of chips. "Let's get back to playing our game, shall we?"

Titus smiled, his eyes sparkling with delicious double meaning. "By all means. Let's play."

Titus's funds continued to dwindle, and the fat man's blood alcohol level continued to rise. The other players around the table weren't much better. And the more inebriated they became, the more evident their crass behavior became. By now, several of them were eyeing the women around the table in a way that made even Titus's hairs stand on end.

And that's coming from a man who has taken it literally every single time a woman told him "Bottoms up!" Ahh, those sweet university days...

He couldn't reminisce about the good old days for long, though. Because what was even more disturbing than the other guests' interest in the ladies was their interest in a certain miniature-sized circus artist.

He couldn't quite believe it. Well, he had brought Max to this place with the intention of selling the loud-mouthed little twerp off, so he should have probably expected this. He definitely should have. Yet...he still couldn't quite believe it. He himself knew, of course, that dear Max was more adult than a horny middle-aged devil with three distinct drug addictions. But that didn't change the fact that he had the face of a snotty little brat, and, for all anybody else knew, the imp was nothing but an innocent little five-year-old.

And still, they stared at him.

In that way.

Suppressing a shudder, Titus smiled and handed a re-filled wine glass to his gambling partner. Now...

The groundwork had been laid, their tongues loosened and minds dulled.

Time to sell little Maxy.

That sounded a lot creepier in his head than he had intended.

Oh, to hell with it!

"You don't seem to have a lot of—hick!—funds left, Mr Irving," one of the players pointed out, a sneer flickering on his face. "What are you going to do? Wager your underwear?"

This caused chuckles around the table—which just went to show exactly how drunk the people here already had to be.

"My underwear?" Titus's eyes narrowed. "No, thank you. But I might have something else to wager."

"Something else?"

"Oh yes." Grabbing the little squirt beside him by the collar, Titus lifted him high enough for most of him to be visible to everyone. "Didn't you hear me earlier? I told you I'm tempted to sell him off, didn't I?"

"Are...are you sure?" one of the men leered, lifting an eyebrow. "No going back on your word afterwards."

Titus had a little flashback of the wrestling match during which Maximus the Marvellous had first caught his eye.

As if I'd want to. You want the little guy? You have no idea what you're in for!

"I am sure," he stated, sounding as firm as he could while pretending to be drunk. "Unless, of course, I happen to win this round. I feel like my luck's about to change. Let's get going!"

"Hear, hear!" The man shoved a pile of chips towards the fellow operating the roulette table and winked at the casino employee in an inconspicuous manner. Or, at least, what he thought was an inconspicuous manner. "Let's start, shall we?"

"Yes, let's go ahead," said another one, sending a drunken smirk at his compatriots.

"Aye, let's."

"Yes!" Beaming, Titus raised a fist. "This time I'm going to win! I can feel it!"

Five minutes later...

"Dammit! Bloody stinking pile of dogshit in hell!"

"Well, well, well..." The old fatty smirked. "Looks like luck wasn't with you this time after all. That was your last bit of cash. Still want to continue?"

"You bet I do!" Titus growled. "Next time! Next time I'm going to win!" And, without hesitation, he grabbed the top button of Max's shirt, ripped it off, and slammed it onto the table as if it were a chip. "I'm in! Are you?"

The fat man smirked, his eyes lingering on the poor, innocent little boy. "Definitely!"

Titus smirked as well, deep inside.

Oh, God have pity on the poor man and his balls. R.I.P.

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My dear Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,

No time for an author's note today, I'm afraid. I've got some trouble with my internet connection and am a little behind the time.

Yours Truly

Sir Rob

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GLOSSARY:

Talwar—a kind of single-edged, curved sword from the Indian subcontinent that was used both in Pakistan and parts of India.