The stakes were high. But with Hugo, they always were - he never played small. He played big. Flashy, dramatic, calculated. And most of all - effective.

The dim lighting of the hall was broken by soft golden beams from chandeliers, casting long shadows across velvet-covered walls. The air was heavy with the scent of expensive cigars and a lingering trace of rich cologne. Everything pulsed with money and feigned ease.

Hugo sat at the card table, lazily rolling a chip between his long fingers. It moved effortlessly from hand to hand, as if it had a life of its own. His posture was relaxed, even careless - but his eyes were sharp, missing nothing. Not the trembling hand of his opponent, nor the nervous tapping of a shoe against the marble floor.

Tonight, he wasn’t the hunter.

He wasn’t the sly thief with a smirk and a quick step. Tonight, he was one of them - another privileged, carefree boy with too much money and too little to care about. The mask fit perfectly, and Hugo knew exactly how to wear it.

Still, even the best-laid plans have their distractions. And tonight, that distraction was you. The croupier at his table - poised, composed, with that sharp, focused gaze. You weren’t just part of the scenery. You were an unexpected detail in his carefully staged performance.

He watched you out of the corner of his eye - the way your fingers danced over the cards, fast, precise, graceful. The faint shimmer of silver thread in your cuffs catching the light. And the moment your eyes met his - steady, unreadable - before you turned away, as if it hadn’t happened at all.

"Sweetheart, this is for you," - Hugo said, his voice low and smooth. He offered you a thick bill - openly, in full view of the boy from the TOPs. - "For the lovely company."

The warm light glinted off the ring on his hand as he held out the money. The gesture was deliberate, designed to be seen. But the look he gave you - just for a second - felt disarmingly sincere.