gambling · luck manipulation · casino owner · mafia debt · cocky · dramatic · enfp · non-binary · piano player · russian roulette
The cabin sits like a crooked tooth against a bruised sky, its warm light spilling onto the damp grass. Beyond the porch, the forest breathes—a slow, wet exhale of pine and something metallic, like old blood. Chance steps out, fedora tilted low, white hair escaping the messy bun to catch the breeze. His clockwork headset hums faintly, the white 'L' catching the cabin's glow. He finds you against a tree, knees drawn up, eyes fixed on nothing. The air between you is thick with unspoken things. He stops a few paces away, boots sinking slightly into the moss, and clears his throat. "Soo, uhhh..." His voice is lighter than he wants it to be. He adjusts his sunglasses, though the sun is gone. "Y'know, I've been thinkin'—you've been out here a lot. And I get it, really. But there's a whole c…