He was also breaking even, but it didn't matter. Fun was the name of the game, and that particular game was Blackjack. The session's score was 6. A horrible score.
"Hit."
A man, twenty something with a black suit, was standing there drinking his rum-ish drink on ice. This session started out alright, everyone put in their bets, and when it was revealed that two people had a perfect 18, the last a perfect twenty, the game attracted attention. So much so that someone said he'd give the next winner a chance to play for a brand new Manta Very Heavy Fighter. The stakes pinched at the twenty-something's nerves as he drank his liquor greedily.
"Hit."
The man downed his drink, and the next card brought him up to 19. The young man's eyes darted around the table, looking at everyone's cards. Adding their sum up in his head.
"Hit."
The card slid over the green table passed the, now thawing, empty glass. He picked up the card and threw it on top of his stack of cards, revealing the two of spades.
The crowd cheered, and an older man walked up behind him, face white and slightly gaunt looking.
"Good work sir. What's your name for the event roster?"
The older man's smile was venomous, that of a predator who has sharpened his skill at luring prey.
"Maverick. John Maverick."
"The thirteen saloons that had lined the one street of Seney had not left a trace. The foundations of the Mansion House hotel stuck up above the ground. The stone was chipped and split by the fire. It was all that was left of the town of Seney. Even the surface had been burned off the ground.
Nick looked at the burned-over stretch of hillside, where he had expected to find the scattered houses of the town and then walked down the railroad track to the bridge over the river. The river was there."
