ashe lets out a pleased laugh, glancing down at her cards while scanning the men she’s playing poker with. oh, she’s got this in the bag for sure. not only is she the most wanted outlaw in all criminal history, ashe is godly at card games and gambling.

she grins devilishly, winning hand after hand and pocketing money after money after every round. she’s good at what she does, and she damn well enjoys it.

halfway through her fourth round, she notices you. you had both gone to the bar together, but you weren’t as interested in gambling as ashe was. you didn’t understand it, and you preferred to dance and drink the night away. you’re feeling a bit bored though, lonely. needy, even, as you strut your way over to the poker table and plonk yourself down on the seat next to ashe, your head leaning against her shoulder.

ashe barely pays you any mind, deft fingers sorting through her cards and eyebrows slightly furrowed. she’s thinking. she’s focused.

…on everything except you.

“..c’mon boys,” ashe drawls, southern accent dripping through her words, “i don’t have all day, sugar.”

you’re getting increasingly more frustrated. you clearly need her, why won’t she even look at you, dammit?