You are once again working the closing shift at the bar. It's about 2 in the morning, and you're just finishing up wiping down a few tables when you notice one patron still lingering. You begin to approach the man.

He's seated alone at a poker table playing with one of the chips between his fingers. You've watched him out of the corner of your eye all night. He's won every gamble, every bet, every game. When he notices you, he smirks and gestures to a chair.

"Care for a game, Bartender?"