A Stranger

Zulime was in a very dark part of a very bright city. When she stepped out of the cab, the driver sped off without a second's glance. Usually her heels made a clicking noise as she walked down the street, but she realized that there was too much grime in this particular alley. Her footsteps were muffled. Usually, that wasn't a problem, but if someone else sneaked up behind her she would have no idea that they were coming. A stiff spring breeze blew by, and Zulime started regretting that she was wearing something more than her simple black dress. It was not a cocktail dress, but it toed the line. Only certain parts of her body were left to the imagination.

She walked down the alley until she found a single, poorly lit sign. The cloth was terribly faded, and flapped in the wind. Zulime peered up at it to find the word L'Etranger. She was amazed that they had taken the time to spell it correctly. A wry smile appeared on her face. She had found it.

Zulime had grown terribly fond of Tokyo, but she still missed the riverboat. Up on the top deck, you could enjoy the warm Louisiana sun as you watched the farms and swamps float by. Right below that, you could rub elbows with guys in fancy suits and ladies who spoke French while you took in a show or played a gentlemenly game of blackjack. Below that, you could feast on the finest Cajun cuisine known to mine.

But it was the last deck, the lowest deck, that Zulime wanted to experience by proxy. The poorest and wildest called that their home, and Zulime spent enough time down there to appreciate it for what it was. The bacchanalia did not stop - at all times of day and night you could find someone willing to see if they could outdrink you or outdice you or outdance you, or all three at the same time. Excess in debauchery was the name of the game, and it was a game that Zulime was quite good at. She knew how much sense the world made after your 4th cup of moonshine and before the band struck up the uptempo songs in their repertoire. Zulime had spent too long above ground, and she wanted to taste that hellfire once more.

The Cajun girl opened the door and navigated up the narrow staircase. The doorman up at the top only had to look her over once before he let her in. Zulime found an incredibly cramped lounge. Poker tables stood over on the right, what could reasonably pass as a stage was in the middle with an old, beaten piano off to the side, and the shoddiest bar she had ever laid eyes upon on the left. Oh yeah, Zulime had come to the right place.

Her heels made a sound now. As she walked towards the poker tables, she saw an open spot and plopped herself down. The Japanese men at the table gave her a weird look, but she smiled her most charming smile. "Garçon!" She snapped her fingers. Zulime did not like being this rude, but this did not seem like a place where manners would be much appreciated in a place like this. "I need chips. And a bottle of red for the table please." That seemed to win the Japanese men over. Zulime watched as they finished the hand, and tried to figure out who the donkey was. No one was betting a lot, but she was sure that the wine would make them put a few more chips down.

The waiter appeared with a stack of chips, a bottle of a truly awful merlot, and glasses for everyone at the table. Zulime surrendered a fistful of yen and got a healthy stack in return. She poured healthy doses for everyone around her, which they drank avariciously. The Riverboat Queen could not help but chuckle to herself. She only poured a small glass for herself, and took small sips. The wine was horrid, but she did not pull that stunt to enjoy the wine. No, Zulime wanted to make everyone else that little bit more pliable.

The hand was finishing up. Zulime watched as the chips moved. Someone was clearly bluffing. Her brown eyes tracked the cards. It was only a matter of time before she found out who.

The vision in red had started the evening wrapped around the arm of a young impressionable young man by the name of Masato Itomi. A self proclaimed tough guy, that was more hot air than fire. She could smell the overpowering scent of "daddy's" money oozing from every fiber of his finely tailored suit, which made him the perfect date for the evenings festivities. The young man seemed accustomed to getting whatever it was he set his eyes on, so when his initial passes at her had outright been dismissed, his focus had become solely on her as he was caught up in the chase. A foreign beauty, a prize for the young man to lay claim to. To him she was just another means to present his status, no more important to him than the expensive timepiece on his wrist. She hadn't played hard to get for long, as she had other plans for the evening and wanted to get rolling.


It was clear the young gentleman had gambled before, likely in a private space with other rich friends or family. She was aware of the illegal nature of gambling here in Japan, something Masato had warned her about as they entered the club. It was her idea to come, but presented in such a way to the young man that he saw fit to credit himself with it. It put him on the spot though, gave him something to prove when he has bragged about past winnings. She could feel his body tense, knowing full well he was outside of his comfort zone, so she played her role as the impressed arm candy, snuggling up against her big, strong man to protect her from all these questionable hoodlums. It was an easy way manipulate his baser instincts to protect her, making him become more brazen and confident, shoving those fears aside to be the sort of man she might take to bed with her... She supposed having big dreams were better than none.

She had expected a large Yakuza presence, while she was unclear who ran the club itself, it was a safe bet it was organized by local crime families. here, in private, very few of the gang's members bothered to obscure the tattoos that marked them as made men for the cause, wearing them as badges of pride. had she not already known the significance, Masato also saw fit to inform her, warning her to stay close to him. That had been the plan all along, so she was happy to oblige. She was at his side every step of the way, giving him gentle encouraging touches and soft compliments of how brave or adventurous he was. He loved having her as a showpiece, the looks of jealousy alone had been enough he have him grinning from ear to ear. She volunteered her services, playing the role of innocent newcomer letting him teach her along the way as she hung all over him, feigning a deep interest in his every word. He had gotten to the point where he was comfortable enough to let her play some of his hands, throw his dice, or place bets on the tables... which is exactly where she wanted to be.

She made sure to keep a steady flow of drinks moving towards her rich escort, while she skimmed more and more from each pot the two of them raked in. He was decent at cards, but was made better when she would occasionally step in to give him some advice. When it all worked out, she easily passed it off as beginners luck. Masasto was quick to overlook it with a kiss to his cheek and another drink in his hand, he was on fire, nothing was going to stop him... Until he started to lose. Hard. His mind was muddled by drink and his choices were made sloppier. he helped to hurry it along by giving him bad moves, which he would make all for her. Any defeat he faced from her choices were dismissed, he claimed he had plenty more money where that came from, until he was broke. Flat busted on a crazy all in hand. He had turned a profit early on, and ended up in red more than the woman at his side... Though when he looked, she was gone. He thought perhaps she had gone to freshen up for what would surely be a passionate end to the thrilling evening.

As Masato stood up from his table, something bumped him hard, sending him stumbling into another man making quite conversation over a drink. He caught himself on the stranger, but the glass the man had been drinking from hadn't been as fortunate and spilled over them both. The Yakuza strong arm didn't seem to take lightly to being handled by a drunk, and was quick to lay into the young rich boy, laying the man out long before all of those drinks could catch up to him. Hoisted up, Masato was unceremoniously dragged out of the club and thrown to the street where he lay confused with a bloodied lip. He raised his arm to check the time, only to find his watch was gone.

When Beckett was young, her grandfather once told her to never gamble with something you aren't prepared to lose. It was advice that stuck with her, even now as she slipped into a seat a card table, motioning to be dealt into the next hand. She wasn't fond of losing, especially when her money was involved. But someone else's money? She smirked to herself, slowly stacking up chip after chip she had taken from Masato throughout the evening. Someone else's money was a whole 'nother story. Glancing down to her purse, she pulled the ornate watch from inside to check the time. She still had much of the night to burn it seemed. Good.

Beckett remained at the card table for some time, playing rather reserved. She was fishing, cashing out safe hands and folding often... though it wasn't because her hand was terrible. It was to obscure her cards from ever being revealed. It was here that she worked her magic, palming cards every so often to tuck them away for later use. She didn't go overboard, only one or two at a time to keep the missing cards unnoticed. If she had a dry spell with no good hands to switch the loaded cards back in, she would toss them with a folded set to return them to circulation. It wasn't long before she was slowly working her modest stack of chips into a small tower.

The table had been mostly quiet, the serious looking Japanese men filling the seats did very little to engage in polite conversation. It then fell onto a new arrival to breath live into the table. She quirked a brow at the newest arrival, another woman who seemed nearly as out of place as she did here. As wine was passed around the table, she left her own gifted glass untouched to simply watch the new woman from the corner of her eyes. Loud, boisterous, confident. Seemingly alone. The woman had the air of a thrill seeker or a ringer radiating off her, enough that it had the redhead intrigued. She saw fit to test the waters a bit. There was a chance this woman was just another well off blowhard looking to throw money around. She tipped the edges of her cards in hand. Along with the face up cards the dealer set in the middle of the table, she had a pair of fours and a jack high. Not the strongest hand, but it could have been worse. As the table called, she instead tossed out a few extra chips to raise the pot. One of the men at the table folded immediately, but she didn't care about them. Her focus was on the other foreigner.

Each time the pot settled, she inched it higher and higher until the final cards were dealt. her hand hadn't improved at all the whole game. It was just three of them now. Herself, Zulime, and a elderly fellow who looked hard enough that he could cut a hole ina  brick wall with his face. She had played the game cool the whole way, being consistent with inching the pot up, not throwing too much out at once. The others had once last chance to pull out before the cards got turned over.

Zulime was in it now. And she had a whole lot of nothing. She looked down at her cards again, and then back up at the community cards. Pair of jacks. It wasn't the worst hand in the world, but it certainly wasn't the best. She looked over at the redheaded girl, the one who had been steadily raising the pot bit by bit. Zulime could read people fairly well, but this girl had motivations and desires that were altogether recondite from her. It was entirely possible that she was just testing her, or she could have a decent hand. She looked at the cards again, and wondered what sort of hand that could be arranged. Of course, she could have been bluffing as well.

"You know, where I am from, it ain't that polite to refuse a gift from someone." She drank a sip of her horrendous red wine as she peered at the redhead with her warm brown eyes. Time to see how the redhead played it. Of course, she was gambling that the woman sitting across from her spoke English, but she reckoned that there were only so many redheads in Japan who could not speak her language. Heck, there were not that many brown girls for that matter. Her appearance and her deep Louisiana drawl turned the heads of even at the other tables. Zulime would not say that she particularly minded. After all, on the riverboat, you always had to put on a show.

If she was being tested, that was fine. Zulime did not come to this particular bar in this particular part of Tokyo to play it safe. She made a great display of counting her chips out, and doubled the redhead's bet. She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. Lips stained her lips red, and she wondered if it looked like the color of blood in the wan light of the bar.

She looked over at the hard man. For many people, gray hair was a sign of wisdom. But she could tell from the way that he threw his chips in that the decades had made him stubborn and entrenched, not clever. Besides, when she had thrown her chips in, he flinched a little. This guy just did not want to back down. And now it was this redhead, this quite attractive redhead, who had the impetus to act. Zulime's face did not turn away entirely from the old man, because the side-eye-half-smile could be quite charming, indeed.

“Is that so? My mother always told me to be weary of gifts from strangers.” Her words had a soft subtle French accent to them, enough to be placed by someone who was familiar, but not heavy enough to be picked from a crowd of other assorted foreign languages to the average person. Beckett cast a sidelong glance in the direction of Zulmine, a corner of her painted red lips raising with a small smirk. The woman in red wore black lace gloves, raising one hand up to slowly trace a finger along the top of the neglected glass that had been poured for her.

“One might think you were trying to be a bad influence on me. I wouldn't wish to disappoint her.” It was hard to disappoint the dead, not as if she had ever even know her mother. Lying came as easily to her as breathing, the effortless falsehoods might as well have been stone carved fact coming from her mouth. She tilted her head slightly to give the other woman at the table a small pout.

She seemed unmoved as the closing pot was doubled. Her emotions were rarely projected to others when she wished to keep them veiled. While her poker face hadn't been developed strictly for cards, it served her as well here as it did outside the bar. The look of indifference was one often overlooked, so often she had rubbed elbows or more with the rich and powerful, the quickest way to catch their eye was almost always to seek to avoid it. Being pretty helped.

She hummed thoughtfully, slowly stacking out her chips as she spoke again. “Where are you from? If you don't mind humoring a curious soul.” Deliberately slow, she set a chip on top of the rising tower and straightened the whole thing out, buying the two women time to converse as the remaining gentleman sweat. This had was all a bluff. Even the cards she had loaded wouldn't help her hand. She was willing to lose though, training someone with a big bluff would be useful later when she actually decided to cheat a bit.

Leaning out across the table, she stood up from her seat, the tight red dress she wore started to right up her legs as she bent purposefully in an eye catchy way to display her assets a bit better. She had remained watchful of Zulime, the wild card of the table. Searching for anything she could make use of moving forward. If this woman was buying rounds of drinks, it wasn't a stretch to assume she was either a fellow hustler or someone with more money than they needed looking for a good time. Both suited her fine.

She dropped lightly back into her seat, folding one leg over the other. She had met the bet and raised slightly higher, drawing out the rising tension at the table. Her fingers gently yip-tapped on her chips, watching the two others at the table expectantly as if she was waiting for them to throw her money to her by way of the pot. She even gave a cheeky little upnod.

Zulime smiled and shrugged. "I know this ain't a mighty consolation," she began, her Cajun accent ringing out as thick as the smoke from the cigar of the man at the end bar, "but I intend to do a whole heap o' thangs this evenin' that my momma wouldn't be too proud of." As if to accentuate her desire to commit lewd and lascivious acts, she took another sip of the awful wine. Perhaps she was becoming a better actress, but she was doing a little bit better at pretending that it wasn't awful. That, or she was getting accustomed to it. In her moral system, there were few sins more grievous than getting acclimated to bad wine.

But gambling, on the other hand, was hardly considered a transgression at all. The redhead had re-raised, but had not doubled down. Zulime took to studying her erstwhile opponent. She knew the cards on the table, and she knew the bet. The only unknown was what hand this woman had. The gloves spoke of a certain nobility, but the fact that she had yet to take a sip of her wine told her that this woman had been around a poker table before. This woman had something compelling about her, and it was something a little bit deeper than just her pretty looks.

With a learned non-chalance, Zulime chucked in her chips. She was not going to raise this woman even more. The Riverboat Queen leaned back in her chair, and looked at the old man. The intensity got to him, and he folded. Looks like he was not as stubborn and dumb as she first made him out to be. After the gray haired man surrendered his chance, all eyes at the table found their way to the pretty little redhead sitting at the end. Zulime guessed that this was not the first time, nor the last time, that all eyes were on her.

"My name is Zulime Lafitte, and I am from the little slice of heaven that you might call New Orleans, Louisiana." The Riverboat Queen could not help but smile when talking about her native city, and even the red of the wine could not put a dent in her brilliant white smile. She brushed her long dark hair from her face, as she cast a sidelong glance at the redheaded woman. It occurred to her that she ought to lie, but Zulime decided that she would play open-handed. At least for the time being.

"And maybe I reckon wrong, but you can tell me your name, and then we ain't strangers anymore. Hell, we'd be as thick as thieves, really." Zulime rested her hand on her chin. She wanted to see how the redhead would play that one. "And you wouldn't have to be so shy about drinking that wine."

Zulime leaned down herself, her ample cleavage on display for the people at the table. She was pretending to count the chips, but in reality she was trying to see if the redhead would look. After all, when she put on her little display, the Riverboat Queen was not shy at all about taking in that long cool glass of water. Plus, when she stood up, Zulime got a peek at those legs of hers and they were the lithe, fit legs of someone who knew how to use them. After making a great display of her voluminous chest, and sat back up.

The look on her face was one of fake shock. "Oh, sorry, where are my manners. Far be it from me to distract ya'," she said with the most coquettish grin a quarter of a glass of red wine and ten years of practice could bring out.

A slender brow arched ever so slightly at Zulime’s open declaration of Independence for her evening. The woman's candor entertaining, if nothing else. There was a worry however with how much of a scene the woman was making. The two of them both stood out in the crowd, very few women were active participants at any of this bar’s many gambling attractions, quite possibly the only foreigners as well.

“Oh?” Beckett pursed her lips lightly. “Sounds as though you lead quite the thrilling life.” She slipped a high value chip from her pile standing it upright on its side. She held it under a finger, using her middle finger to flick the chip lightly to let it spin under her control. “I suppose it's a good thing our mothers aren't here to see then. Wouldn't wish to break their hearts.”

She had been openly watching the woman down the table, positively devouring her with those silver eyes of hers. The way she talked, the way she moved, it didn't really seem to fit the dress she wore half.as well as the woman’s body filled it. She idly rolled her ankle, letting her foot bob lightly to the music playing in the distance.

She had inquired where this woman was from, but that accent was rather unmistakable. She was familiar with the area as well as the culture. Perhaps her favorite part of the their touring through the United States. There was a southern charm found there that was different than anywhere else… and the widespread belief in mysticism in the backwaters had done well for her pockets when playing the role of a fortune teller.

The red vision tilted her head slightly, eyeing Zulmine even closer. The better question would have been what a woman like her was doing so far from home. She did well to mask her growing interest in this bayou beauty, not looking to fall into the trappings she used on less experienced individuals.

“Thick as thieves.” She repeated softly, having mixed feelings over the prospects of not being the only hustler here tonight. The added attention the two of them were likely to draw was going to be a detrimental to her initial plans… though there was plenty of time for new ones to be forged. She was confident in her ability to still make use of her loaded cards if she stayed at the table, but if Zulmine made her, there was an off chance she would call her out, especially if she continued to play hardball.

Beckett placed gloved hand to her bosom lightly, flashing Zulime a warm welcoming smile that was so practiced at this point she could summon it with the snap of a finger. “Beckett.” There was no reason to lie, not about that, not here. She had her real ID on her tonight. When the others were forged primarily by people with Yakuza connections, getting caught with a fake name with an easily identified forgery here wasn't going to land her in prison, it was going to land her in a shallow grave.

“This wine?” The vision in red gentle cradled her glass, giving it a light swirl..she eyed the bottle for a moment before those silver eyes drifted back to Zulime. She set the glass down with a soft hum. “I appreciate the sentiment Ms. Lafitte, I truly do… but I’m afraid I may have more expensive tastes. You are welcome to indulge them, if you’d like.” She gave the glass a small nudge with her finger, giving the woman a small wink.

While she hadn't taken the obvious opportunity to pour over Zulmine when it was presented to her, she had been capturing plenty of fond memories of her since she sat down. “A welcome one, I assure you.” She glanced over the faces surrounding the two of them, all natives, all men, all boring with a small chuckle she looked back to the woman before her. “Do you live here, in Japan, or are you merely visiting?”

Zulime had played her cards. The only problem was in poker you shouldn't play the hand your dealt. You should play the person sitting across the table from you. At that was becoming harder and harder as the night progressed in spurts in turns. It was true, she supposed - Zulime did live quite a thrilling life. But thrilling in the ring and thrilling in this tiny little Yakuza bar could and did have entirely different meanings. The Riverboat Queen was keenly aware that the number of eyes on her was steadily beginning to rise. She didn't mind. Let them look. Zulime had nothing to hide.

"Of course. To thrilling lives!" She said, raising her wine in mock celebration. The woman was still not drinking. That irked her now, and the smile on her face was clouded by a hint of mistrust beginning to well in her eyes. It did not occur to her that the move she had done was to get everyone making foolish decisions. Zulime wanted to be the pit orchestra's director, and the trumpeter was not quite playing her part. She was going to have to find a new route to deprive this woman of her money. Or at least, have a little bit more fun doing it.

"Pleased to meet you Beckett. Ain't that the most charmin' name I ever heard." The taint of mistrust that darkened her brown eyes had faded. Zulime was back to oozing charm. Beckett, this redhead, was incredibly charming herself. The Cajun girl found herself being drawn in, bit by bit. She was entirely sure that this was not going to a good place, but she was not entirely sure if that was a bad thing. The way that she nudged the glass, teased the wine as she swirled it around. It would have been altogether too much had she been in an amorous mood. Although, she would not fault herself for sliding down that particular path...

But no. She had a poker game to win. "Tell ya what. Reckon you might could indulge both of us at the same time. Figurin' how it is just me and you still in this here ruckus, why don't we say that the winner gets to pick herself whatever bottle of wine she prefers. That stake would be a hell of a lot more fun than these dinky little chips we keep throwin' around." Zulime was actually betting on a few things here. Sure, there were the cards that were still in play. But she was also betting that the most expensive bottle this bar had was worth half a damn. Plus, she had the additional bet that whatever four-fingered asshole that was running this place did not overhear her and did not get any funny notions. Zulime said that last part just loudly enough that the table heard it.

She knew she had to follow it up with something quick. "Well, figure I live here now. An apartment can only mean so many things. What about you? You got roots here now, or are you just passin' by?" The woman seemed determined not to give out any information about herself, which was not always the worst thing to do. But she wondered how much it would take to crack this particular nut.

Zulime was terribly insistent on on her drinking, so much so it continued to be an issue the woman was pressing. At this point she would have assumed the woman slipped her something had she been the one who had handled the glass. She was playing the table, that required a clear head, especially when she was pulling cards for the express purpose of cheating. She saved her love of the drink for more intimate conversation or actual games of chance where her mental facilities weren't nearly as important.

It made her wonder how accustomed this woman was with being in control. She had a loud commanding presence, one that likely served her well her in Japan. Beckett wasn't much for taking orders however, so the more the cajun tried to coax her to drink, the more she resisted just to push back against any would be authority Zulime had.

“Oh? Is it working?” She mused softly at the comment about her name, flashing Zulime a rueful smirk. Her gloved hand slipped over the table, ready to reveal her cards to close out this hand when the challenge was mentioned.

Beckett wasn't brash. She had bluffed her hand from the start and had only a single pair to show for it. While she had readily raised, a loss that only slightly dented her chip coffers was hardly a concern. It hadn't been her money to begin with, losing it all was no big deal. This additional bet however, ran the risk of costing her more than the chips sitting before her if they happened to keep anything of value on the self. She would be a fool to take the offer… for this hand.

“Afraid the pot is already settled.” She fanned out her hand out, motioning to the piled chips in the center of the table. It was unlikely Zulime would throw in something like this while also bluffing. It didn't make any sense to her. She was fairly certain the woman had something worth betting on. Beckett was far more interested on rolling the dice with a new hand, where she could make use of her loaded cards to make a better hand.

“Next hand, mon chéri.” She was smiling sweetly across at Zulime, amused already. She had considered making a polite request of it, but after a bit of consideration decided to simply make it so. She was curious to see if taking the reins from the other woman's bet would get under her skin at all or at the very least illicit a reaction.

“I tend to wonder. I have a place to lay my head, it sees little use beyond that. I prefer to keep myself in good company.” With a small nod to the dealer, she turned over her cards, laying them out on table. Just her single pair. She was grinning, even with her almost certain defeat. It wasn't because of Zulime though, it was due to the hung heads and soft curses of the other at the table who bought the bluff.

One of the gentlemen who had been sitting beside her scooped up his remaining chips in a rage and stormed off. She blew him a kiss as he shoved passed a few “innocent” bystanders. Her attention fell back to Zulime, motioning for her to show her hand. The sooner they could get to the next one, the better.

No more bluffing. It was time to show. Zulime had only a pair of jacks to go on, but she had far surpassed the point of no return. She had gotten a little bit lost in the reverie and showmanship of this poker game, and she had only just realized this. A look of quiet consternation passed over her usually ebullient and friendly face when it dawned on her what she was dealing with, both in terms of her hand and what that meant for the pot. The Riverboat Queen leaned back in her chair, and the smile returned to her face. Even if she didn't have much, she still had something.

"Oh, I must say it is workin' like you would not believe." Zulime arched and eyebrow and turned her head. The guys who ran this establishment did not like that much light, so when she turned her head half of her face was concealed by shadow. Her pearly white grin was unmistakeable, however. "I was so charmed there for a second that I nearly forgot about my two friends," the Riverboat Queen turned her cards over, "Jack and Jack. They ain't the most creative when it comes to names, but I reckon you may appreciate their acquaintance."

For all her bluster, Zulime had not yet looked at Beckett's cards. She had to adjust a little bit to see the redhead's cards. It turned out that she was an expert bluffer. The only thing that she had was a pair of fours. Zulime's wicked grin turned into. "Ain't nearly as much as I appreciate their acquaintance, though." The Cajun woman started raking her chips in, looking on delightedly as her pile of chips got that much bigger.

She would have appreciated a bottle of nice wine, but this would suffice. The Riverboat Queen sat back in her chair, and spotted the empty place at the table. "Looks like there are only so many folks that appreciate a lively little game and good company, huh." Truth be told, Zulime did not care that much. This redheaded woman sitting across from her had gotten all of her attention, and then some.

Zulime put her blind in, and waited for the cards to be dealt. "Ain't anythin' wrong with wanderin'. Although you don't exactly strike me as the type to require a whole lotta approval, truth be told." Everyone had their chips in, and the dealer slung the cards around. Once he got finished, Zulime took a peak at her cards. Jackshit. Queen seven off suit. The woman had a practiced poker face. But the wine was really starting to get to her...

“Is that so? I have quite a few charming features besides my name. Perhaps I can share them with you later.” While Zulmine did look simply delectable, and she wasn't opposed to spending a bit more time to get to know the women, it had been a simple seed she wanted to plant to distract. With an vague open offer like that, she was almost certain this woman would go out of her way to impress, which would likely lead to some reckless betting.

Beckett leaned herself back in her chair, letting the leg she had crossed over top the other lightly bob to the rhythm of the music in her head. She gave a feigned look of surprise when Zulmina’s cards were turned over, sealing her fate. It was more or less what she had expected, it had been a good call not to push things further than she had had control over.

The vision in red lightly brought her lace covered hands together, clapping softly for the victor with a playful smirk painted on her face. “Two knaves steal away the pot. Oh my.” She couldn't help but chuckle softly at the parallels, what a remarkable coincidence. Her bluff had been a long shot she had assumed she had been ready to lose for, still, watching the other woman gather up the pot hurt her every so slightly to see all that money leave her grasp… at least the view was pleasant as Zulime leaned forward to shovel it all in.

“There is no accounting for taste, as they say.” The redhead stacked up a few small value chips to the sum of the blind, leaning in to set them neatly in the gathering of tossed in chips. “Approval? Mmm, you’re right, I don't really find myself needing it all to often. I don't mind getting a bit of recognition every now and then though. A bit of favorable attention rarely goes amiss with me.”

As cards were flicked in front of her, she lifted the edges slightly to take a peak. Despite how favorable her hand was, even without her loaded cards, she wore a slightly disappointed expression. It was subtle touch, one might have mistaken her acting for a genuine slip. She had her own brand of poker face.

Her silver eyes drifted over the table. Just about everyone wore the same stoic look in a variety of different ways. Nothing really of interest save for the other woman at the table. Beckett had made it a habit to lift her glass, but not from it before setting it back down. To surprising effect, a few people at the table always seemed to take a drink when she raised her glass. Trained behavior. She may have been doing her part to help Zulmina’s plans along for her own benefit. If it just so happened to work on the other woman to, well that would have been delightful.

She gathered her chips, calling the first round of bets. She was going to play the hand a bit conservative at first before ramping up. “Are we still also betting for a bottle of choice? I wouldn't think too much less of you if you decided to step away from that challenge now, before we got started.” She flashed the woman an amused smile, rather overt in her attempt to goad her on.