Mrs. De Ville (On Hold)

Wild Card - Part 2

That's a new wallpaper!

"What can i get cha' pretty lady?" The bartender asked as i placed my purse onto the counter. His unusual green eyes looking more dazzling than mine as i felt them piercing tears into mine.

A passionate battle of hues was what it was.

"A Boulevardier," I replied, holding that smoldering gaze of his. Okay, so I'd be lying if i said i didn't find him...attractive. Not just his protruding jaw curved gracefully around, or the strength of his neck showing in the twining cords of muscle that formed his entire body. You could simply tell that this man had a whole lot of body underneath that very sheer t-shirt.

Fuck.

I really can't remember how long it's been since I'd gotten some- who am i fooling it's been 3 years 56 days and 36 minutes. I'd say how many seconds, but i don't wonna seem too eager.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this...alone?" The bartender suddenly asked. That infamously sentence earning an eye-roll from me.

I grinned.

"What, you don't think i can handle myself?" I shot back

"I think your a few ways in over your head." He said, looking me dead in the eye as he coasted the drink over.

Being underestimated is a deeply irritating thing of which I've never approved of. It's so fucking rude, and i can't stand it because he just made a blatant allegation of me presumably not possessing enough wit to even be in this casino.

Regardless of how insulted, i felt. It was going to be fun to prove him wrong. I wasn't here to find a boyfriend, so let's gamble.

"You are so damn lucky i find you intriguing. Had you been anyone else, what you said just now would've deserved a clean shot to the knee," I said, leaning in close, so close i could sense his inhaling clash against my lips. "Watch and learn darling!" I concluded, seizing my bag as i strolled toward the mob intently watching a poker gamble, flat in the heart of the casino.

The two gamblers appeared to have been going at it for a while now, I thought as i clung tightly to my fur coat. Gambler number one seeming triumphant as he gathered every token from player two.

The way he played was utterly shameful.

Gambler number two, who looked to have been reaped of whatever fragment of pride and dignity he had left, came in here not long after me. Though i was considerably rattled by the bartender, i knew it was going to be entertaining.

The urgency in his tone when he begged for a chance after chance when he lost would make anyone peep his way and feel a twinge of sympathy.

"You should be ashamed by the way you play." I finally said, walking out from the shadows. "—giving someone in a bad place hope, then sending them into deeper despair... you're like a sleazy loan broker. I'm not sure what level you might have achieved as a gambler, but as a person, you don't even rank." By the end of my harmless little banter, i was glaring him down in a way that clasped him tightly to his chair. It was the type of glare that you'd give to you're worst enemy after shooting him dead between the eyes. "You're shit and you know it."

"I beg to differ, so let's settle this on a gamble little lady. How much are you willing to bet?" He said, completely dismissing everything i had mentioned not too long ago. His cigar finding it's way into the bowl as he leaned forward and exhaled the smoke into my face.

Keep fucking with me bitch! I'm gonna spend all you're money on Birkin bags! 

The mob grew even more silent, if that were even possible, keenly scrutinizing over our every move. The man was truthfully a sight for sore eyes, a dead man walking if I'm being honest. He also didn't scare me one bit.