I've got political blood. We can memorize the ingredient list on the the back of a Twinkie. "'Kay." he'd complied, a thrice bat-bat-bat of his lashes as if her wager caused some debris from the bedsheets of Pan to plume him in the mockingbird blue of his irises. As well, he made sure not to bind their bet into unbreakability with a good ol' fashioned handshake, stowing both of them into the safekeeping of his suit pockets, because this was a gentleman(ymph)'s bet. He was paying for this whether she liked it or not.
The real hustling took place once the gladiator (voluntarily by the agreement of the emperor) swaggered the arena with a lofty, quiet gallantry to rival a new-found glory by Tiberius. Who let Zeus into the games? The chill wooden counter top was greeted by the lean of his elbow, the crush of his love-making brows, and the dual pointing of his fingers toward the menu. The goth behind the counter with lips as black as his soul, stood taller with attentiveness."I believe in you, Matthew, when I say I need you to make this happen. Two pieces of chocolate cake, one Americano, biggest size, cold water instead of hot, and grande mocha espresso half-calf with no foam, and for this next thing..."
He leaned in closely, after peeking at her over his shoulder briefly.
"I want you to get a small cup of ice, cover the ice in caramel and chocolate sprinkles and write 'sugardaddy on the rocks' can you do that, Matthew?" The blackheart nodded vigorously as he was slid the dividends to pay for the entirety of the order. And, with a victory strut that Orpheus never got to endeavor, he made his way back to the table.