carlisle sat in the empty booth, his blank gaze fixed on the scattered cards. he had been sitting there for almost an hour, sulking. the consigliere boy, isaia, had given up on trying to console him. how had he lost to some random guy? he hadn't lost in years, not since he'd started gambling. so how- how the hell had his luck run out? he was convinced that the random, idiot man had cheated. there was no way that carlisle could've lost.

he smiled weakly, finally, as he stood up to gather the cards. maybe this was just an unlucky deck. he would burn them. that seemed like the best course of action for a situation like this. carlisle's hair fell into his face as he leaned over, picking up the five cards that had made him feel this way. a royal freaking flush.

his violet eyes narrowed and he curled his fist, the thin cards crumpling in his gasp. that asshole. that asshole. he'd kill him.

carlisle had never been known for being violent, but he was kind of a sore loser. this seemed like the appropriate situation for him to slightly abuse his power as a mafia executive. plus, it wasn't like he had to do it himself- though, maybe that'd be satisfying.