Locke & Open
"If you're going to call it gentlemen, call it," Locke said, having already folded out of his hand. He was doing average, which he liked when he was just starting out. Otherwise people started to accuse you of being a cheat right off.
The two remaining players called, and one laughed, his yellow teeth splitting in an airy laugh as he threw down his full house and pulled the coins and bills on the table toward himself. The other man swore and slammed his hand down. "Who kin bluff now, eh?" The other glared at the smaller man, looking about to launch the table and strangle him, but Locke held up a hand.
"It happens. Lady Luck is a fickle lass. You'll be kind and at least give the man to drink, though, wouldn't you?"
"Course!" the winner said cheerfully. "As many times as he's taken the pot from me, though, he can't be so sore at me havin' a gloat!"
The big man was still angry though as he pawed the coins off the table and shoved his chair back and made his way to the bar. One of the men was smirking and shaking his head, a younger fellow with coal dust on his face. "Jus' don' go gloatin' too loud, ya gopher. Sal's got a temper, and he's angry enough to swaller a horned toad backwards now."
One of the cockier players was restacking his chips that had fallen after the angry shifting of the table. "Well, just means we might have us a ruckus soon enough. Nothing like a good fuss after a good winnin'. Who's deal?"
"Mine," Locke said smoothly, smiling pleasantly to the rougher players and taking the deck with grace despite how it was shoved into his waiting palm. "Gopher, you won last hand, so you watch me deal."