"Motherfucker!" Marcus exclaimed. He was not particularly coy when playing poker. Given his attitude, every hand was a straight flush until he laid it out. His skill lay with reading the table and anticipating others. Ian was more of a challenge to read than he'd expected. The fact that the bartender had a several drink advantage and the luck of the draw on his side also hadn't hurt. He snorted, pulled up his number on his phone and pushed it across the bar towards Ian so that the younger man could write it down. "Reach me there, Guapo. But don't you push your fucking luck with that favor, 'cause next time I'll have your ass."
He looked over at Avery's hand again, seeing the card that would have given him his four of a kind in the blond's mix. Was there irony there, or was it just a coincidence? Probably the latter. It looked like Avery had been going after a straight. There was an eight, five and seven... but that queen of hearts had fucked him right over. Wasn't that just like the bitch? Ha.
Marcus shook his head, too amused for his own good. "Cards'll fuck you over sometimes, Rubio," he said to Avery in commiseration. "Shit luck."
"'Bout time for my ass to start walking home," Marcus added. He took his phone back after Ian got his number off of it, and then pulled out his wallet to settle his tab... as well as Avery's, which he did casually, with an off-hand "Merry fucking Christmas" to the blond. He didn't stay for any arguments or gratitude, but he did shoot Avery a look to indicate that he wouldn't object to being followed out the door when he left. He gave Ian a wave as he headed out.
The bartender had definitely been raised a point or two in Marcus Caravahlo's estimation, that was for sure.