”Don’t take this the wrong way,” Arthur said, ”But you sort of look like shit.” There were dark circles under MacFusty’s eyes, and the sort of redness that didn’t come easily. MacFusty was clearly going through something, and that made Art feel better, being here; it wasn’t as if he was in crisis. MacFusty was going through something, Ben and Melody were going through something - Art and Desdemona had gone through something, and now they were in the after, and they were fine. He was just a person at the casino, like there was nothing to it.

”I will take that drink though,” Art said, ”Before we get into it.” It had been a long time since he’d played hazard, but it wasn’t difficult - maybe he’d even win. The house almost always won, of course - but Arthur wasn’t here to try to win. People could go to the casino for fun. He could be here for fun. It didn’t have to mean something to him.

He traded a sickle for a chip. A sickle, Art justified, was practically nothing.

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