"I don't lose, I never lose..."

Tension was spreading like an infection across the table. Everyone could sense it.

"Not to this fucking lousy Mexican," The guy aimed his revolver at Carlos, Billy's friend, and pulled the trigger.

Billy shot up, his hand instantly moving to grab his revolver in defense.

"Don't even fucking think about it," The guy, who shot Carlos, threatened.

Carlos's corpse fell off the chair, on the floor, blood staining his white shirt in the area his heart was beating.