Cruel World

Chapter 2

Without even turning to face the man, peach raised her shot to him. He closed the distance with his small glass. As soon as she heard the clink, Peach slammed her shot against the bartop before quickly choking down the warm whiskey. Unsurprisingly the man mimicked her exactly, even to the point where they were both hissing through their teeth trying to expel the burn.

Peach raised her glass and finished off the rest of her drink before pulling her new one close to her. She traced her gloved finger around the rim. Her thoughts were starting to become blurred but her instincts were not. She could feel the stranger next to her, watching her.

"You're not even going to thank me?" he asked sipping from his drink. His body never turned away from Peach.

"and what exactly should I be thanking you for?" she asked. Behind the bar, and behind the shelves of opened liquor was a mirror. Peach stared at her own green eyes being reflected at her. Beside her was the man's unwavering reflection. His shaggy dark hair and his burning blue eyes. He met her gaze in the reflection. His eyes were burning into hers even more now as if the mirror had doubled their effectiveness.

"I don't know, maybe for saving you from that drunken asshole."

She could see his smirk in the mirror. That was enough. She dragged her eyes from their reflection and turned to face the man himself. Looking at him now, the proximity between them she could make out a small scar cutting into his top lip. It was barely noticeable underneath the sprouts of dark hair shadowing under his nose and across his jaw.

"I've dealt with many drunken assholes, toothless there would have been no different." His eyes were so bright they were burning. Peach slid her stool away from the bar, and took a moment to readjust her skirts. God, she hated how big this skirt was.

She grabbed her drink from the bar and raised it slightly to the man, "now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to return to the card table."

The man tsked, and she noticed as well. The dealer was busy becoming "acquainted" with one of the bar girls against the side of the piano. As any dutiful musician would, the pianist never ceased playing even with the newly formed couple trying to shove him off the bench.

So much for stripping this place bare. She could always sneak in later and crack the safe behind the bar, but spending that extra time in Rosewood might just kill her if she wasn't caught first. The man still seated at the bar thumped against the bar table. She turned to see a deck of cards in his calloused fingers.

"If you want to play so badly," he split the deck and shuffled them back together, "then I'll play with you."

Peach clenched the glass in her hand tightly. She shifted her eyes over the man. Hanging over his worn cowhide chaps was a green satchel similar to hers in every way. Even in the fact that it was dangling heavily, full of money.

"Fine," Peach sighed. She hopped back on her stool, keeping her eyes away from his pouch of money. She could never help the excitement that would bubble up in her chest.

"What are we playing then?"

The man was busy shuffling the cards against the bar, careful to avoid any puddles of alcohol. "The ante is a quarter, followed by one betting round. The highest card wins."