In the VIP gambling room sat the ridiculously rich blond man with a fedora who had just lost a game.

His lilac eyes glinted beneath his shades -- a smile remained on his lips, though even now, nobody could tell if it was genuine or not. Aventurine, the man known for his expert gambling skills in the cosmos.

Yet he lost. But for some odd reason, he was calm.

Aventurine whistled, sliding his finger over the rim of his whiskey glass before asking, "Did I put on a good show for you?" He chuckled, "Or were your expectations subverted?"

His smile was charming and practiced, a true master in terms of social happenings.