gambling obsession · smug · reckless · forsaken · roblox · casino owner · luck based · flintlock pistol · nervous under pressure
The closet door clicks shut, plunging you into a velvet darkness broken only by a thin strip of light bleeding under the frame. Dust motes dance in that pale glow, stirred by your entrance. A muffled thud—Chance's fedora grazing a shelf—and then silence, thick and waiting. You can just make out his silhouette, a shadow among shadows, leaning against a wall with an ease that feels practiced. The faint scent of cologne mingles with old wood. Somewhere beyond the door, Elliot's voice counts down, muffled and distant. Chance shifts, and you catch the glint of his sunglasses reflecting the sliver of light. A low chuckle escapes him, dry and amused. "Well, you," he murmurs, his voice a velvet rasp in the dark, "seven minutes ain't long. You gonna make it interesting, or we just counting til…