<<20 April, 2075 18:16 // Snyder's Hall, Dallas/Fort Worth>>
Sniffles covers his hole cards as Wayne, the young ork boy they've got serving drinks, comes around to get him a refill. It's not that Sniffles is being paranoid, and Snyder is known for running a clean game, but some habits just stick with you, like the cowboy in the lime green stetson who can't help but stroke his goatee whenever he's flopped a pair. Yeah, Sniffles will take his habits just fine, and leave the tells to the the amateurs. Let's see, he tallies. So the cowboy's got sevens, twos, or ladies, the woman in red's gonna fold, grandpa's going to follow her along, and the professor here, well, he just might make it interesting. Sniffles nods his thanks to Wayne, and flips him a 2¥ chip. The "professor" just make it interesting indeed. A human man, mid-forties, very academic looking. Awakened too, if Sniffles had to guess, and that made him even more interesting. For one thing, he had a cyber hand, exquisitely made; in fact Sniffles wouldn't know it was off the shelf if he didn't have such a keen eye for such things, but the "skin" around it was too smooth, and when he grabbed his cards, the movements were still a little jerky. Maybe it's a new install? he wonders before folding.
Another thing about this guy, Sniffles didn't like the way he was being eyed. Like he knew something. Sniffles had heard that this way that he could see the matrix, and interact with it, how it came as natural to him as as seeing anything in the meat, he'd heard those finger-waggling types could sense it in you, if they looked close enough, and knew what to look for to begin with. He didn't like that thought much. Another round in betting, and the professor was playing it conservative, checking and then seeing. The cowboy was clearly pleased with himself, and put down 150¥ in chips on the river. And that's when the professor struck. "I'll see the 150, and raise you 500," he said with a smile, pushing a small tower of black chips in the pot. He could very well have the nut, if he'd been dealt two spades. The cowboy was probably looking at trip-deuces right now, which was respectable, but far from the best potential hand. But Sniffles would never know because the cowboy threw down his cards with a guffaw. "You don't got it, do you? You're just fucking with me, eh? Ah, fraggit, I'll pay to find out next time."
Easy to read, and quick to fold. I like this guy.
Sniffles spends the next two hours making a little progress at the table. It's mostly the professor and him fleecing the other three players, though the lady in red comes up with three jacks in a hand of seven-card that sets him back some. Even after that, he's still 678¥ up, when the pit boss comes around to collect him. "Sir, your presence has been requested at one of the executive tables. Would you like to come with me?"
Sniffles knows that it's not really a question, and he also knows exactly who's waiting for him at the executive table. He gives his nose a wipe, tips the dealer, and let's the pit boss deal with transporting his chips while he walks to the back of the basement, through a set of double doors and past Bruno, who looks exceptionally displeased tonight. Collections must be running low, and with playoffs about to start, Slim's gotta be leaning on him to come up with some nuyen fast. He finds Slim at a corner table, with a seat empty and a place set out for him. His chips are shortly deposited, which Slim takes an immediate interest in. "Looks like a slow night. Let's see, let's see," Slim says, putting the chips into two very unequal piles. "This should get you through the rest of the night," Slim continues, pushing a small stack of blues and greens toward him. "Come on, don't be sore. I got your first hand," Slim says, putting down a 25¥ chip in front of Sniffles for a hand of blackjack.
Over AR, Slim begins messaging Sniffles as the cards come up.
<<@Sniffles [Slim] I got a little work I could maybe use a hand in later tonight, if you're free. Maybe pay down this debt a little in something besides change.>>
Sniffles just gives a nod in the meatspace for Slim to continue.
<<@Sniffles [Slim] The Cara-Sir Paladins/Vancouver Clippers game is tomorrow night, and one of my competitors has been taking more than his fair share of the pie. I'd like for you frag up his algorithms and just generally make placing a bet with the guy unworkable. Also, if you can find his client list, I'd like to be able to offer services to those find upstanding citizens who can't through this particular competitor. Last, if you can get the commcodes, or better yet, some tracking on any of his bookies, I'm prepared to knock a fair chunk of debt off your ledger. What do you say?>>