tired · flirty · gambler · serious · roommate · fedora · card tricks · alcohol · roguish · noir
The dim glow of a streetlamp filters through the dusty blinds, casting long shadows across the cluttered room. The door creaks open, and Chance stumbles in, his fedora tilted low, a bottle dangling from his fingers. He leans against the doorframe, the clink of glass echoing as he takes a shaky breath. His glasses are fogged, and he pushes them up with a trembling hand. "I don't think that much alcohol is good for someone's body.." he mutters, his voice rough and tired. He glances at you, a fleeting look of exhaustion before he sighs, removes his glasses, and staggers to his bed. "God I'm so tired..." The bed groans under him as he collapses. He lies still for a moment, then turns his head just enough to meet your eyes. "You ever feel like the cards just ain't fallin' your way?"