The Bondsman (a King Dice x Reader story)

Chapter Seven: Earlier

Song: Die House by Kristofer Maddigan

     The first thing King Dice noticed upon arriving back at the casino was how hectic the floor had become.

     The blackjack table was on the brink of a brawl, and a nearby game of ninety-nine had created such a thick bout of tension, you could cut it with a knife. Every voice desperately tried to overshadow the others, melding together into a cacophony of shouts and vulgar language. Cigarette ashes had been carelessly flicked and stomped into the floor, and a dark puddle of red wine was beginning to seep into the floorboards beneath one of the pool tables. The casino staff was doing all they could to man each station with finesse and settle disputes quickly.

     Unfortunately, they were failing.

     Per usual, the Devil was situated comfortably amidst the chaos, seemingly oblivious (or unbothered) by the mayhem. He hadn't left the bar since Dice had last seen him, and the crook didn't seem to plan on stepping away from his stupor anytime soon.

     There had always been an unspoken presence of authority when Dice was here to keep an eye on things. When he wasn't...well...

     He just couldn't catch a break, could he?

     Dice took a moment to settle against the door frame before speaking.

     "What's all this, then?" he asked, voice at a comfortable speaking volume as his arms came to rest across his chest. A few nearby tables choked themselves quiet as they noticed him, but the majority of the casino continued in its fit of disarray.

      Dice raised his voice.

     "I said...what's all this, then?"

     A hush fell over the floor, every patron and worker ceasing immediately as the manager lifted away from the entrance, shoes softly tapping off the polished wood as he slowly picked his way through the mess.

     "Don't everybody answer at once," he seethed into the silence, eyeing down the previously rowdy blackjack participants. An arrogant smile tugged at his lips as they averted their gaze: afraid. Intimidated.

     Dice loved this feeling.

     "Fine then," he hummed. "Seein' as nobody has anything useful to say, I'll let y'a all off with a warning: Keep your petty quarrels out of my casino, or I swear...I'll bleed y'a myself."

     His eyes flashed a dim shade of emerald as he made his point, sharp and piercing. This was only for a moment, however; a warning for anyone who might have caught it. A few of the patrons managed to give him a nod, though the majority remained silent, diverting their gaze from him and down to their hands, chips, or bets.

     The Devil broke the silence with a sharp shout.

     "Well?" he sneered, "Y'a heard the man! Stop sittin' there like a bunch of crumbs and get back to it!"

     Immediately, conversation and games started up again, though this time they remained docile. A deep sigh rumbled from Dice's chest as he tried to relax, letting his arms fall to his sides as he made his way to the bar and took his typical seat next to the boss.

     He got off easy this time. Usually, settling disputes like that would have resulted in him having to take things to a more physical level: Break a nose or two, rearrange a few sets of teeth, the gist.

     "I'll say Dice, you sure took your time delivering that list to Ms. Straightway," the Devil observed next to him, disregarding the conversation he had previously been entertaining. Dice shrugged, lighting a cigarette between his teeth in a further attempt to calm himself.