Eye for Marble

Blaise  had been in Scotland for part of the day. Elie Ruby and Skye Marble-- they'd what he was hunting for. He'd thought himself somewhat successful-- there were a handful of pieces he thought he tolerated, and a few sculptures he'd acquire. It was easier, then, to make the deposits, and then head into the Scottish Gringotts to fetch the Galleons. He knew that he could really send an elf, but as good eyes as the Zabini elves had gotten at spotting necessary flaws, there was nothing compared to his own.

Still, when it was a larger sum of money, and there were rather less goblins here than the greater Gringotts in London. Blaise didn't much mind the wait at this time, as there was still time to assess the marble here. Likely of the same quarry, though he had little doubt that in some areas there might be some from the Highlands. Geographic pride, after all.

He settled himself down, waiting for a goblin that had enough time to take Blaise to his lesser vault.

Heart of Stone

The name Macnair didn't hold the same weight as some of the other Purebloods' did... but then the weight it did hold was entirely its own. It came with a reputation of executioners, of deviance, and of high magical skill. Eoin had long since realised he'd need more than one vault for his different facets of life and so while his main family Vault remained in England with its specific wards and protections to stop anyone dense enough to get that far from trying to break in, he also open up others. One in Albania, one in America, and one in Scotland. His father had access to at least two of those, but the Scottish one was entirely his own. He'd never lived South of the Border because he'd never enjoyed the flatter lands and the synthetically treated water, let alone the smell of the city of London. He was a particular man who knew what he wanted out of life, and it wasn't England. So his prized possessions remained closer to him instead of closer to his jobs. It was convenient, and it wasn't expected. Most that he knew pooled everything within the main branch in Diagon as it was easy enough to get to... but considering it had been breached once already in the past... he didn't trust in half as much as he might have done in the past.

He'd also long since accepted the wait that came with the smaller bank, and had taken to categorising his day so he was never on a tight time limit where waiting on one of the Goblins to acknowledge him could severely cut into something else. He had learned patience over the years and he held onto it the best he could. On days like this he was at his most serene and calm, as there was nothing else on for him to be chewing over or to get back to. And he enjoyed it, to a point. The architecture had to be appreciated, and as a fellow artisan himself, he had to appreciate the craftsmanship that had went into building the place. It was cool, it was well set out and cleverly designed, and it was functional. No one had to raise their voice and no one had to fight for room. The benches were evenly placed too, and at that moment so was he, sitting on one straight-backed with his hands clasped between his knees as his gaze traveled over the bankers and the ones coming to deal with their vaults and other monetary business, weighing up each one and dismissing them for chances of causing something his department would have to deal with. It was his day off... the last thing he wanted was to be called in over an accident that was so minor it was frustrating.

His gaze dropped and flicked towards the corner of his eye as a swarthy man sat beside him and after a moment he placed him from the Ministry. His head didn't turn, though a slight smile tilted the corner of his mouth. "It's a lot quieter here than the one in Diagon..." he murmured, both as an offering of conversation as well as just a musing comment aloud, "Scenery is better too."