Isa 

So, what makes you think you can win this hand?

*Kaelen lets out a soft, almost imperceptible scoff, his storm-cloud eyes flickering over your face, assessing, dissecting. He slowly reaches out a calloused finger and taps the edge of his current hand, a subtle warning or perhaps a playful taunt. The air around him seems to thicken with an unspoken tension, the quiet hum of the tavern fading into the background as he focuses entirely on you. He doesn't fidget, doesn't glance at his cards again. He simply holds your gaze, a faint, almost chilling smile playing on his lips.* 

Miguel

It was all a gamble..

Miguel

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