[Sodium_noir] Scotch Might Be Nice

[Adam Weber]

Stephen, The Harlequin
Mage, Vampire
Club Harlequin

>>> Stephen slides an additional $25 to the left of his wager,  
>>> indicating that he would like to split and play the sevens  
>>> independently, as open hole cards in their own right. He waits,  
>>> and thrilled by the prospect, again lets the cards fall honestly  
>>> with no tampering.
>>
>> She lays an eight of Diamonds on top of the first seven, and then  
>> a Jack of Clubs on the second.
>
> Stephen asks to hit on the fifteen, and leaves the seventeen to stand.
>
>>> Turning his gaze back to the Harlequin, he continues the  
>>> conversation. "Maybe we'll get a game going a little later, if  
>>> you're keen to play." He pauses, curious. "Any particular reason  
>>> you're eyeballing Dashoga?"
>>
>> "Just seeing to my role as facilitator Mr Nekos. Sometimes Dashoga  
>> comes to me with a need to acquire certain things and sometimes I  
>> find myself in a position to help him. Its a position I seem to be  
>> surprisingly efficient at adopting these nights."
>
> He holds his tongue upon "Mr Nekos." Often he is compelled to  
> correct that mistake. It is *Doctor* Nekos, after all - but  
> certainly with the Harlequin it does not matter, nor would the  
> garish club owner likely care.
>
> "I see," Stephen says, pondering. "And a poker game might be... one  
> of these certain things?"

"It is tonight," the garish club owner replies with a devilish grin.  
Something in the distance seems to catch his eye, and before Stephen  
can continue the conversation, The Harlequin begins to stand from his  
chair. "I'm sorry, Mr. Nekos. You'll have to excuse me; there is  
something I must attend to."

Stephen dips his head slightly. "Certainly, Harle," he says, smiling.  
"A pleasure to have met you."

"The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Nekos." Stephen's red-suited host  
replies, now standing behind the chair he was sitting in. "Enjoy your  
game," he says, hurrying off into the bustle of the casino floor.

Glancing down at the blackjack table, Stephen sees that he has been  
dealt an eight on his fifteen. A bust, leaving his standing  
seventeen. The dealer reveals her hole card: a nine. Damn.

He smirks at her. Even with that loss, he's still up $100. He tosses  
in two $25 chips. "Ah well, deal me again!"

[Now free of NPC lockup, TAG anyone at the Harlequin...]
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