Charity/Cian; after the game.
"I do so try to be an optimist." Charity drained her glass and set it on the bar, immediately longing for another martini but not entirely relishing the prospect of loitering much longer post-game.
His question earned a little snort. "And really, you have to ask?" She shook her head, slowly and sadly, as if regarding a child who'd made a mess of the dining table.
"Gamblers are meant to be flashy, you know." She drew a long, lacquered fingernail over the jewel-encrusted edge of her jacket-sleeve. "We're supposed to wow the world with our luck and our looks. You always look like you're late for an especially boring funeral."