With the event with Nebula's unreasonable brother out of the way, George had gotten what he wanted in a rather unlikely manner. Somehow whatever both Nebula and her brother discussed outside, it ended with the decision that they were going to let him go.
George's eyes widened as he took in the opulent surroundings for the first time. The building, which he had only glimpsed through the narrow confines of his room, was a sprawling mansion of breathtaking grandeur.
The exterior walls were constructed of pale marble, veined with intricate patterns of gold and deep red that seemed to shimmer in the soft light.
Towering columns flanked the entrance, their capitals adorned with intricate carvings of mythical beasts and fantastical creatures.
"Wow," George breathed, his voice tinged with awe and disbelief. "So, this is where I've been staying all this time? How could I have missed the sheer size of this place?"
He shook his head, his lips curving into a rueful smile. "I guess being locked in that room didn't exactly give me the grand tour."
His gaze swept over the long hallways that branched off in multiple directions, their floors adorned with plush carpets and their walls hung with priceless works of art.
"No wonder I was so turned around in there," he muttered to himself. "This place is a veritable maze. I'd need a map just to find my way to the bloody room I was free from."
As he continued to take in the lavish surroundings, George couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy and resentment. "Living in luxury while keeping me locked up like some kind of animal," he growled under his breath. "Typical."
As he continued observing, Nebula approached, her stride graceful and measured. By her side walked Reginald, her ever-faithful butler, carrying her purse with the utmost respect.
"George," Nebula called out, her voice soft but one could tell this was not one of her favourite days with the look on her face. "Are you ready to return home?"
George tore his gaze away from the building, his expression hinting towards relief. "More than ready," he replied, his tone edged with a touch of sarcasm. "I've had my fill of the 'half-baked prison' you call a home, despite its good looks."
Before Nebula could respond, the purr of a powerful engine interrupted their exchange.
A sleek, luxurious car – a gleaming black Rolls-Royce Phantom – glided to a halt beside them.
George fell silent, his brow furrowing as he eyed the expensive looking vehicle with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.
"Well, that's new," he muttered under his breath. What in the hell did this woman do for a living to be able to afford such a car? And from the looks of it, she didn't seem all too impressed as he was. Something told him that she was one of those people who came from old money families.
'The Oxbloods, certainly never heard of them. But that's the thing with old money families. They aren't exactly known to walk the red carpets and live the public lifestyle like most celebrities. Could Nebula come from a family who aren't just into witchcraft but are filthy rich?' George contemplated on the spot.
In a fluid motion, the driver's side door opened, and a sharply dressed man emerged. He had some type of tag on his breast pocket that read Dion. His every movement exuded confidence and poise.
Without a word, Dion circled around to the rear passenger door and opened it with a flourish, his gaze flickering between George and Nebula expectantly.
Nebula offered him a reassuring smile, though her eyes betrayed a hint of annoyance. It was not like her to listen to anyone especially when it was Harry, her little brother. But this particular situation demanded more than just a strong head. She had to proceed carefully. The last thing she wanted is for more of the Oxblood, her own family finding out about what she had done. Then, hell would truly break loose.
"It seems our transportation has arrived," she said, gesturing towards the open door.
"Am I safe here?" George muttered to himself, eyeing the increasing number of witches and wizards converging around him.
Nebula's brother had just left for a meeting, leaving him unsettled by the arrival of another wizard. The newcomer's appearance heightened his suspicions. It was safe to assume now that everyone around Nebula had some sort of witchcraft affiliation or the other.
That had to be the case since the two he had come across so far had both attempted to murder him. One with a spatula and the other one, well, a thousand cuts all around his body. He still couldn't believe that Nebula would suggest that he walked it off. Parts of his body still stung with the pain but according to her, he would heal. She said it was one of the gifts he had. So far, he hadn't seen any part of him healing.
Not that he planned to take her words for it anyways. The moment she dropped him off, he planned to go straight to the hospital and have himself checked, for more than one reason of course.
Nebula noticed George's hesitation but didn't pry, casually slipping inside through the open door, her robes swishing around her ankles as she settled onto the luxurious leather seats.
Meanwhile, Reginald confidently positioned himself in the front seat. George sensed their intentions were almost clear, they just intended to escort him back home. With that, he jumped into the ride and took the seat beside Nebula.
Dion closed the door behind them with a soft click, his movements as precise and refined as those of a consummate professional.
Within seconds, he had circled back around and slipped behind the wheel.
"Get ready for a ride with the town's best driver, mate!" Dion announced with a grin, flicking on the ignition.
Reginald couldn't resist a jab. "What's with the glasses? Eyesight failing you already?"
Dion chuckled. "It's all about the swagger, geezer. Not sure you'd get it, though."
Nebula rolled her eyes, a mix of amusement and exasperation crossing her features. She'd known what she was getting into when she hired Dion, but sometimes his youthful exuberance still caught her off guard.
"Dion," she said, her tone carrying a hint of fond warning, "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but let's keep the 'best driver' antics to a minimum today, shall we? I'd like to arrive in one piece."
She settled back into her seat, shooting a glance at Reginald. "And you two," she added, addressing both men, "play nice. I'm not in the mood to referee any generational squabbles."
Nebula couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for her old driver's steady, reliable presence. But times changed, and so did drivers. She just hoped Dion's skills behind the wheel matched his confidence.
"Now," she said, her voice taking on a more businesslike tone, "let's focus on the task at hand, gentlemen. We have places to be."