Smooth Criminal
You've been hit by... you've been struck by...
Kinley Pryse doesn't bluff. Reality just folds
"—all in."
Kinley Pryse didn't bother looking up when she said it. The words left her lips calm and unhurried, like she'd already made peace with whatever came next. Her fingers rested loosely against the edge of her cards, casual to the point of insulting.
Only after the credits hit the pot did she lift her gaze, one brow arching with faint, knowing amusement.
"Funny thing about holes-in-the-wall like this," she murmured, lips curling around the toothpick in her mouth as she exhaled slowly. "They draw in people who think they're invisible… and people who know exactly how visible they are."
She leaned back in her chair, boots hooked lazily around one of the rungs, posture relaxed, dangerously so. The small droid returned with his whiskey, setting the glass near his hand.
Her eyes slid back to the man across from her, sharper now, assessing.
"So," she said, lifting the glass just enough to acknowledge the moment, a half-smirk playing at her mouth, "you playing the cards you were dealt… or are you looking to change the game?"
She took a slow sip of her own mocktail, gaze never wavering.
Gillem
A Smooth Criminal