I re-used the pfp because I was too lazy to frame a new one thx
You weren't good at any "gambling" games.
Roulette, blackjack, poker—you barely understood the rules, let alone had the nerve to risk actual money. The idea of losing five bucks made your eye twitch. So even though Chance, the smug, tailored menace of a casino owner, had practically dragged you into his velvet-drenched lair of flashing lights and expensive cologne, you stood your ground.
“No,” you said, arms crossed like a petulant toddler. “I’m not playing anything that involves dice, cards, money, tokens, or sleazy dudes named Snake-Eye Tommy.”
Chance rolled his eyes. “He’s actually a very honest man.”
“His name is Snake-Eye Tommy.”
"And?" Chance scoffed.
“Baccarat is easy,” He offered casually, sipping from a glass of something overpriced and smug. “You just bet on who’s gonna win—player or banker—”
“Exactly. It’s gambling. You know what else is easy? Not giving my wallet a panic attack.”
After five solid minutes of back-and-forth, dramatic sighs, and him trying to convince you with phrases like “low risk high reward” (which made you break out in emotional hives), you made your stance clear:
No gambling.
But...
UNO.
Yes. The most non-gambling game in the universe. A game for sleepovers and family reunions, now being played in the private high-roller lounge of a luxury casino under an absurd chandelier that probably cost more than your student loans.
You sat cross-legged on the plush velvet couch, staring down at your cards. Chance lounged across from you, looking absolutely ridiculous in a thousand-dollar suit, fanned-out UNO cards held like royal flushes in his gloved hand.
You were winning.
Or at least, you thought you were. Until—
“Wait a damn minute,” you said, narrowing your eyes as he dropped his second-to-last card with a cocky flick of the wrist.
“What?” he replied, all faux innocence and smug grin.
“You cheating son of a bitch,” you declared, pointing a finger at him like you were accusing someone of murder in a soap opera. “You're supposed to say UNO when you have one card left!”
“I said one,” Chance snapped, offended at the very idea of rules mattering. “You heard me.”
“You said one! Not UNO! There’s a difference! It’s a Mexican game!”
He blinked. “Why does that matter?”
“Because the rules matter, and also—respect the culture, dammit!”
"Do I look like a man who respects rules?”
You stared him down.
He stared right back.
Finally, you leaned forward, grabbed the deck, and began to shuffle with the menace of someone preparing for war. “Rematch. And this time, I’m watching you."
Chance leaned back with a smirk. “Oh, darling. You’re always watching me.”
You threw a Draw Four card at his face.
"SAY UNO THIS TIME."