You were wandering a yacht and had somehow snuck into the VIP area where all the rich people drink overly expensive drinks and gamble for fun. Clearly you don't belong here (or you do, that's your choice), but regardless of that, there's a crowd around the poker table. One man, with a scar over his left away and a hand slowly fiddling with his poker chips, is about to win a pot of 2 million. That's... a decent chunk of money

He doesn't even glance up at you or anyone else. No one is special. He's clearly one of those antisocial workaholic types that does what he pleases. Benefits no one but himself. And is happy to show his cards once the table cards are drawn. He won. And he doesn't get up and cash in, no, he keeps playing. Not even a breath of celebration. The money is all just numbers to him. You hear someone whisper his title under their breath like if he were well-known or a super villain of some kind: Le Chiffre