06-01-2024, 10:57 PM
TW: Gambling, Tobacco, Alcoholism, strong language
Andrew sat at the table in the apartment above the bakery, staring down at his cards. The hand was down to two, him and a gentleman who came to his establishment with a cart... Sweat beaded on his forehead.
He did not look at the man for a long time, the tension was thick in the air. And then he finally decided to take the risk. He looked to the other man and muttered, "I ain't got anything else I can bet..." His words were slurred from drink, the smell of smoke and spirits hanging in the air around them.
"Come on, mate, ye just gotta let go. Why don't ye fold if ye ain't gonna bet?" That was the voice of a portly fellow, the man's jowls fluttering with excitement almost.
The other man, a rather short and wiry fellow sat there twirling his moustache with his beady eyes giving the side eye. Andrew had a good hand and could win, but he had bet every last bank note on his person and he just didn't want to take the hit. "Aye, I could fold, but c'mon, I got a new wife and I wanna do somethin' fer her, ain't been easy fer the lass," muttered the baker.
"Well, wot ye waitin' fer, lad?" The wiry fellow prodded at Andrew questionably. Andrew grunted, poured a few fingers of the fine Irish Whiskey he had been given by a customer before his bakery started to take a hit from the downward spiral of his guilt.
"Alright! Fine... I'll bet me bakery, I ain't got anythin' else!" He looked over to the other player.
Andrew sat at the table in the apartment above the bakery, staring down at his cards. The hand was down to two, him and a gentleman who came to his establishment with a cart... Sweat beaded on his forehead.
He did not look at the man for a long time, the tension was thick in the air. And then he finally decided to take the risk. He looked to the other man and muttered, "I ain't got anything else I can bet..." His words were slurred from drink, the smell of smoke and spirits hanging in the air around them.
"Come on, mate, ye just gotta let go. Why don't ye fold if ye ain't gonna bet?" That was the voice of a portly fellow, the man's jowls fluttering with excitement almost.
The other man, a rather short and wiry fellow sat there twirling his moustache with his beady eyes giving the side eye. Andrew had a good hand and could win, but he had bet every last bank note on his person and he just didn't want to take the hit. "Aye, I could fold, but c'mon, I got a new wife and I wanna do somethin' fer her, ain't been easy fer the lass," muttered the baker.
"Well, wot ye waitin' fer, lad?" The wiry fellow prodded at Andrew questionably. Andrew grunted, poured a few fingers of the fine Irish Whiskey he had been given by a customer before his bakery started to take a hit from the downward spiral of his guilt.
"Alright! Fine... I'll bet me bakery, I ain't got anythin' else!" He looked over to the other player.
