On an overturned crate just outside around a shop, a small circle formed loosely around Felix. A pair of coins passed between his fingers with someone in front cursing under their breath while glaring intensely at a pair of dice.
As he was about to let the next round play out, he glanced up, noticing a woman standing at the edge of the circle. He recognized her as someone who usually watched his games but never participated. For nearly a week, he'd find her staring somewhere in the crowd. Every day, she'd slowly make her way through the crowd.
Unlike everyone in the crowd who he'd successfully profiled, she created a bizarre outcome. She was fitted in a silk dress the color of red, fitting her like a second skin.
Over her shoulders, a black velvet capelet was just low enough to show off a collar of intricate black lace, making her upper body appear larger and more imposing than the slender sinners crowded around her.
On her head, a small, velvet tilt hat with a delicate birdcage veil covered her eyes, making it difficult for Felix's attempts to read her.
Her hands were adorned with delicate white silk gloves that she absolutely didn't need, adding to the intimidation factor that she was far too refined to be standing in the dirt, yet there she was. Her entire appeal reminded him of expensive 1930s high fashion.
As if she didn't stand out from the crowd enough, those around her had a unique reaction. No one stood too close to her, spoke near her, and even those pretending not to notice had shifted just slightly out of her space.
Although unable to learn much, he was about to realize that whoever the lady was, she was odd and possibly dangerous if the reactions of those around her said anything.
"Game's done!"
After his abrupt declaration, quite a few demons groaned, but many left without an argument, even faster than usual. If that wasn't unnerving enough, by the time the last of them stepped away, the woman had already moved closer. As soon as Felix stood up, the lady in red was right in front of him.
"I would love to assume you're running this?" She purred, her voice a smooth, low contralto. Felix held her gaze, or tried to, through the mesh of her veil.
Close up, she smelled faintly of expensive jasmine and something Felix couldn't quite place. She didn't wait for him to confirm what was obvious. She lifted a gloved hand, gesturing faintly to the crude dice on the wooden crate.
"I must say, for what you have, you perform exceptionally well."
Felix smiled bitterly when he heard the compliment. The lady had created a feeling of allure and suspicion. "Thank you, I pride myself on what I can do well."
Wanting to ask for her name, he reluctantly opted not to. If the gloves were anything to go by, they could imply she liked to keep her hands and herself clean, both literally and metaphorically.
Right now, he was dealing with an enigma, so he should tread lightly. "What did I do to favor your attention?"
The lady in red covered her already obscured mouth with her hand, using it to barely muffle a small laugh. With a teasing voice, she corrected. "I am afraid to disappoint, but you're not something I'd keep in my jewelry box, but you are a delightfully vintage find in this drab decade."
"Is that so?" Felix said, playing along by dropping his voice low. While cautious, he went over by the crate to pick up his dice. Facing the lady once more, he asked, "well I'll take any compliment that comes by me."
As she observes him, the lady slowly tilted her head, her veiled gaze fixed on him. Instead of responding to his banter, she took the time to scan his attire. Rather than touching the black rags he would call clothes, she lifted a finger, hovering it just an inch from his chest as if the mere thought of contact would ruin her gloves.
With a slow, graceful motion, she mimes flicking a piece of lint off his shoulder while murmuring, "And I, in turn, pride myself on spotting a desperate man who needs correction."
Drawing her hand back into the safety of her velvet capelet, it felt like she had an expression of pity. "Though I suppose one must start with the foundation before one can fix the facade."
Felix didn't flinch as her finger hovered near his chest, though he did stiffen when hearing her words. Unexpectedly, she stepped closer, invading Felix's personal space, the black velvet capelet even brushing against his arm.
"I would like to offer you an opportunity, Mr. .?"
"Felix," he supplied.
"I can tell that you have more interests than what these wretched creatures offer, Mr. Felix. Do you enjoy gambling?" Giving the question some thought, Felix was quick to nod his head. "I do."
"And do you enjoy money?"
"Very much."
Repeating the habit of covering her mouth with her hand, she laughed even more. It was both light and crude. "Then we already have common ground on the important things."
"You run a modest operation," she turned her head slightly. "But it's very flawed. Without a structured stake and a consistent clientele, your earnings fluctuate wildly. Even at their best, they remain terribly small."
As she explained, she took a small step to the side, circling him. Watching her, Felix found his professional facade slipping into curiosity as she mimicked a shark.
"That tends to happen when one person tries to play banker, host, and every other role all at once. If I had to guess, you must have another way of earning souls, which would take more time away from your passionate work."
Once more, the lady wouldn't hold back on critiquing his very life. After all, it was only the beginning. Rome wasn't built in a day.
Wait, wasn't Rome essentially built on a foundation of fratricide and stolen women? he thought, the dark irony tasting familiar on his tongue. Never mind, that's actually exactly the kind of foundation I'd be building on.
"Without a network or backing you can maintain alone, your structure is poor. If I had to guess, you must have another way of earning souls, which would take more time away from your passionate work. So. . I have an offer."
And there it was.
Felix wasn't surprised his suspicions had been right. The real question was whether this was a coincidence or the first sign that people had finally started noticing him.