“Do you think we should come up with some signals, like when we want to leave or if we’re around people we don’t want to be- I dunno, like touching an ear twice means ‘save me, this person is an asshole’, and just making a noise like ‘caw caw’ when we wanna jet?” his social meter only could take so much, and maybe it was rude trying to already figure a way out of it if needed- but both of them were in this together, if anything just to keep people off their back and to fill their social requirement. “Second thoughts, maybe making animal voices will earn us a one way trip into St. Mungos for an eval.” he muttered thoughtfully. “What do you think, bro?” even though he was glad Seamus had accompanied him, he certainly didn’t want to linger more than what was polite and he still wanted to spend time catching up with his best friend now he was slowly bringing himself back into wizarding society. 

"Be careful. The die is loaded,” Greg mutters, a drunken and satisfied smirk on his lips as he leans over the persons shoulder, observing the craps table. He’s been watching the table for some time now, having made a few of his own bets before picking up on the way the dice landed and pulling out the moment he realized he was being cheated ( an art he was quite familiar with and would not be taken advantage of ). Perhaps he should have kept it a secret, but the booze loosens his lips and with the knowledge he does have regarding gambling, he’s eager to share this tidbit of information. “You can tell by the way they land. See? Those sides are favored.”  

Drink in hand and a little tipsy, Zacharias watches the roulette wheel go round and round, standing a considerable distance from the table, chips in his pocket but he hasn’t made a move yet to use them--if he ever decides to use them at all. Attending the fundraiser was more of a means to boost his public image than it was to actually mingle, the latter being something Zach has so far been successful in avoiding. But of course, he cannot avoid conversation all night and he’s a lot less bothered when someone slides up next to him. “Have you had a try yet?” He motions to the wheel and takes a long sip from his glass, “Might be your lucky night.”

❝     ST MUNGO’S HOSPITAL HAS CERTAINLY HIT THE JACKPOT as madam dionisia belby - best known for her work in beautifying our community one shrub at a time - opens the doors of the expansive belby estate for a night of fundraising fun, unlikely to be forgotten any time soon ! inspired by the muggle phenomenon of public gambling houses, miss belby has transformed the lower level of her home into a picture perfect casino, complete with hourly games of poker and blackjack, eight self spinning roulette wheels and a wall of enchanted slot machines with REAL ( and safely contained ) firework displays for the lucky few ! the one galleon entry fee constitutes one entry to the end of night raffle, with additional ticket stubs and game chips available for purchase from the red and blue wearing servers ! all house takings and donations go straight to the hospital itself, per miss belby’s express request, so put on your lucky shoes and head across to casino night at the belby estate !   ❞

Professional Quidditch meant being on show even at events- especially prolific ones for charity and where most wizarding folk would be present. And Angelina would’ve craved a night where she didn’t have to keep herself in check and not be at risk on a front page spread or caught doing something not particularly good for the image of her team. Not that she was one of those sorts of people, but keeping up an image was hard at the best of times. And the vodka martinis they were serving here were mighty tasty and she was gently sipping on her third, savouring it as her last for the night to stop any potential embarrassment of being half cut. Which was a shame, because the olives were extra briny as she popped another into her mouth and looked down at those on the roulette table with a curious look. Gambling never had been her forte, she just about got her head around muggle scratch cards- and maybe she dropped a couple of quid when it came to muggle races like Cheltenham, but casinos were strange to her. Even her brothers had given up trying to teach her poker. “So...you’re literally putting money chips on a random colour number and hoping for the best?” she asked the person in the chair nearest to her, raising a brow as she chewed on the olive contemplatively. “It’s purely chance, no actual logic or strategy behind it?”