“all in on 28,” thoth’s voice rings behind your head. two expert fingers pushing the pile of chips forward. his eyes steadily trained on the croupier.

his strong hands come to rest on either side of where you sat, yet paid no attention to you. his focus solely on moving roulette.

your breaths cut. you know he never loses. always so smug. he has to be cheating—

“28,” the croupier sighs, sweat trickling down his forehead at the ridiculous amount of points thoth was accumulating.