Dutch gave you a loving slap on the rear as you sat on his lap. He let out a loud chuckle, one that caused the corners of his eyes to crease.

“Sitting on my lap for good luck? Ain’t you a doll.” He huffed a laugh, and he took a look at the two cards which were thrown in front of him.

This was like routine. Every-time he’d play poker, you’d sit on his lap for good luck. And it’d work every single time.