The Bondsman (a King Dice x Reader story)

Chapter Four: Inner Turmoil

Song: Mr. Pinstripe Suit by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy

     You were fun to play with.

     Dice had toyed around with plenty of people in the course of his career, but there was something especially entertaining about ticking you off. There was an aura of pride that surrounded you as you left him to his own devices, only drawing him in more.

     "Thanks for the drink," you had sneered, sauntering off to scope out the floor of the casino. Dice's eyes remained fixed on you, tongue-tied simply by the way you moved. There was a confidence there that even a showman such as himself couldn't hope to fake.

     It infatuated him.

     He took a moment to observe the glass in his hand, a bit surprised that he had accepted it from you in the first place, not that you had given him much room to argue. Then again, he likely would have offered to take it off your hands anyway. His gaze lingered on the lipstick stain you had left behind: a scarlet so deep, it might as well light aflame.

     You had a perfect kiss-print...

     Nope.

     Dice shook his head, straightening himself out as he made his way across the floor to the bar.

     "Here," he mumbled, handing the snifter over to the martini glass working the station. She took it without question, washing it in the underbar sink before setting it down to dry. "Say, Ginette, any news on those brats from earlier?" He inquired, taking a seat at one of the barstools. The martini glass shook her head.

     "Not that I've heard, boss. I'm sure there's someone around here that knows something, though. You know how these folks get when they're drunk..."

     "Loose-lipped as they come," Dice sighed.

     "Here," Ginette chimed, offering him a glass of champagne, "to help you relax. You have that look again, y'a know..."

     Dice accepted her offer half-heartedly. Apparently, he had this "look" that the casino staff had become accustomed to whenever he was uneasy or stressed. He didn't like the idea that he was easy to read, even if it was by professional gamblers and cons. It was his job to decipher people, not the other way around; He hated the idea of it being the other way around.

     Dice let his eyes wander back to the casino floor, absentmindedly searching for you.

     He could almost swear that he caught a glimpse of the tail-end of your trench-coat disappearing through the front door when a familiar heat began to rise around him, accompanied by a few nervous looks from the surrounding patrons.

     "Boss," Dice greeted, tearing his gaze from the door and down to his glass. The Devil hummed in reply as he settled onto the barstool next to him. Without a word, Ginette handed Scratch a shot of vodka, which he observed for a moment, before downing it without so much as a flinch. Dice waited for him to say something. Rarely did the boss creep out of his hole unless it was to plot. To plot or to play.

     Most of the time, the two went hand in hand.

     "How's our gal doin'?" The Devil finally asked. Dice gave him a shrug as he lifted his own glass to his lips.

     "Y'a just missed her," he retorted. The Devil nodded slowly, swirling his shot with a crystalline hum.

     "No matter," the boss continued. "She'll be runnin' circles round herself within the hour. Lots of dishes in Inkwell, y'a know. She'll have a hell of a time finding the right ones, especially if she's on the look-out for adults."

     Dice wasn't sure why that seemed to bother him.

     Empathy, likely. Straightway had made a deal and taken a chance in the hopes that it would finally serve as a way out. Dice knew how that felt. He hadn't always been the King, after all. There had been a time when he had lost...in fact, he had lost quite a bit before he settled into life as manager of the casino.

     "Are you going soft on me, Dice? You look like you might burst into waterworks..." The Devil sneered, shoving his shot towards Ginnette to refill. Dice shook himself awake, readopting his typical "sleazy bad guy" attitude: a transformation he had practiced time and time again.

     "Course not," he said. "I just think she needed a little more to work with."

     Scratch's hold on his shot tightened, a crack forming where his claws had dug into the crystal.

     "More to work with?"

     Dice's nerves began to fester.

     "I just think she might figure it out, is all. If she realizes that the deal's a bit too difficult to be fair, she could sniff out the fact that the whole bet's an act..."

     Scratch's expression was unreadable, a mixture between baffled, impressed, and infuriated.

     "I don't pay you to think, Dice," he spat, glaring at his, once again, empty shot glass. "But, you may have a point. She's a bright bulb...the only way to fool a woman like her is with the truth."

     "My thoughts exactly," Dice lied.

     "Well then," the boss huffed, having Ginnette refill his shot one more time, "what exactly did you have in mind?"

________________________________________________________________________________

     A/N: DICE LOOOORE.....Sorry anyway uh, I hope you enjoyed this short yet important chapter!

     Fun fact: Idk if you noticed (you obviously have by now), but the guy falls first in this one......you're welcome <3. 

Happy reading!

-Song-Birds