Like a moth getting trapped in the light by fixation Who: Ciara and Court What: Apologies, overdue truths, and two hearts When: Monday night, July 4th, several hours after the meeting at the bar. Where: Ciara's Room, Antoine's Blues Palace Rating: Very possibly NSFW
The Poker table had been a quite a trip. Previous experiences and hopeful anticipation had Court geared for a night of playing against the most clever and beautiful woman in the entire town. Instead, a quarter hour at game, even with the relatively easy fish trying to compete with them, he could see that the bedmate was a gold-plated run of bad luck. An educated eye at cards didn't need to see what she held to know that she was consistently forced to rely solely on bluffing to win what hands she did.
What that did was change the private game the two of them were playing against each other, to one where they were now playing together against the table and the house. Between raucous drinking, laughing, and flirting, Court put everything he'd learned playing men for strange local coins, bottles of secreted booze, knives, pistols, and ever more exotic pots towards making sure Ciara walked away from the table with more than she'd arrived with, and without anyone else being the wiser.
The two of them, with no more signally than the occasional raised eyebrow or subtle tap, strategically folded hands, raised and re-raised, and took the money of the slowly cycling group of other players who had no idea what they were getting into when they sat down. They lost enough to make a good show of it and then won it back through hard work and cut throat play. In the end, Court had kept his promise and seen Ciara step away with a pleasantly large stack of chips, while his own was only slightly smaller than he'd begun with, more due to dealer's rake than the competition. Antoine had to make his money somehow, after all.
Retiring to the bedmate's private room with their winnings and significant quantity of alcohol and finger foods, Court opened the door for Ciara and made a show of bowing chivalrously. "After you, mademoiselle." Stepping inside, he set the rather large tray with their refreshments on a convenient dresser and closed the door behind him.
Now with full privacy enveloping them, Court stood tall and straight, no longer faking the limp or masquerading favoring his right leg. He stretched muscles tight from the tension of ruse and smirked at Ciara. "I must say, it is nice to be able to finally stand before you without pretense. I get to be me for once."