5th December, 1895 — Blind Man’s Bluff, The Velvet Veil
“Some game, wasn’t that?” Nick said – light, friendly, and with the faint undercurrent of manic desperation. “What will you put those winnings to?” My money, he meant: and though he knew full well what the stakes of gambling were, had done it before (and would presumably do it again), he was nevertheless hoping against hope that the winner of his token – and with it more galleons than he could afford – would merely, miraculously, bestow it back to him now.
He hadn’t chosen the highest value table to play cards at, but nor had he gone for the lowest – there was simply no thrill or profit to be had in that. And perhaps Nick’s judgement had been mildly impaired by the cocaine high or however many cups deep he presently was, but in his earlier imaginings, he had not only won his games, but when the token values had been revealed, he had cashed out a ludicrously hefty, life-changing sum.
He was fine at cards, so all he had needed was a good bit of luck to see it happen... And naturally, he had had the worst. Probably the Veil was rigged, and half the players cardsharps. And Nick was sure he would have been able to swallow losing a galleon, but this – a lot more than that was to be pocketed by this damnable person at the end of the night. (That was, unless he could find a way to change that...)
He hadn’t chosen the highest value table to play cards at, but nor had he gone for the lowest – there was simply no thrill or profit to be had in that. And perhaps Nick’s judgement had been mildly impaired by the cocaine high or however many cups deep he presently was, but in his earlier imaginings, he had not only won his games, but when the token values had been revealed, he had cashed out a ludicrously hefty, life-changing sum.
He was fine at cards, so all he had needed was a good bit of luck to see it happen... And naturally, he had had the worst. Probably the Veil was rigged, and half the players cardsharps. And Nick was sure he would have been able to swallow losing a galleon, but this – a lot more than that was to be pocketed by this damnable person at the end of the night. (That was, unless he could find a way to change that...)
