Felton doesn't even know where he is but it is a nice place. A pretty girl is in his lap and drinks are going around in this dim room. It is definitely better than any stiff party held in some dim cavern in the demon world.

The girl in his lap laughs at something someone says to her and then turns to Felton with a dark smile playing on her lips. The lights flicker and her inky hair seems to dance in the smoky air of the tavern. They whisper little nothings into each others ears just for fun and he says something about flowers and drunkards. She laughs again but this time she throws her head back to reveal a long, pale neck. The room is too loud to hear anything but the girl's gray eyes speak through her sooty lashes and she leads him to her room up two flights of stairs and down a corridor.

"Why me?" Felton asks in a parody of modesty. The girl had kissed him the moment she closed her door and the heated dance of tongues had led them to tumble onto a thin mattress. They'd kissed for a while and then the girl tried to untuck his shirt from his slacks. The sheets seem to croak under him and he notices how there is mold on the ceiling and a bowl of coins on a beat up desk

"Oh. I don't know." The girl says breathily. "Tell me you name." She whispers. She had looked pretty and confident in the darkness downstairs but now she just looked young and tired. Felton notices how her dress seems to have been mended many times and how there's a spare gray dress hanging on the back of the door. A pair of muddy boots are under the desk and then the girl muffles a cough by trying to nip at his neck. There's coal dust on the ground.

"Victor." He says on a whim.

"Well, Victor. I think it might just be because you were always there." The girl whispers. She's trying to be coy and his puts on a hand on her side to try and steady her because she had squirmed against him to try and muffle another cough. She is sick, he realizes. And then her words hit him and he suddenly pushes away from her.

He stands and straightens his clothes and grabs his coat from the floor.

"It seems as if I have some business to attend too. I just remembered. I'm sorry ma'am." He says carefully. He's careful to drop his whole pouch of gold coins into the bowl on her desk on the way out. It's all just transmuted pebbles but if she uses them in the next century or so they'll be real enough gold for a banker and by then the gold will be shuffled into the system soon enough.

Felton walks out of the tavern as quickly as he can. Fifty years is a long time to try and have a taste of all the women in the worlds Above and Below. He has been to the bright and airy saloons of France and the deepest pubs at the bottom of the tall mountains in the demon world. He feels like he has almost been everywhere. Sometimes he wonders how Eleanor has been but then he ends up thinking about graduation day at the Academy and he chops the thought to pieces.

Eleanor had successfully dragged him back to class enough times for him to scrape by on his attendance and title alone.

"You're the spitting image of your father." One of the teachers had said, partly in jest and partly in exasperation.

His womanizing, child-abandoning, crap beetle of a father acting as a reflection of him had furthered his belief that his self-worth was nothing. So he'd flirted with all the granddaughters of the Elders to get demoted to baron so he could have some free time to go find out more by himself. He ended up deciding that fifty years of womanizing seemed like the best way to solve his problems and that's how he ended up walking on slippery cobblestones on this wet Monday and getting sprayed by passing horse drawn carriages.

He muttered angrily and walked into the nearest newspaper stand. He charmed the girl selling the papers into letting him see the date and figured that forty-nine years and three months was close enough to half a century for him to make his way back to Below.