Ninjas of Love

Place Your Bets

Charlie and Kerian approached the building, taking care to ensure that they appeared confident and ready to fight should the two of them encounter hostility. Kerian saw from a few steps away that the door had a burly bouncer stood outside it, and felt a surge of power wash over him from the crown to the toe-top. "Good afternoon, sir." Charlie said to the bouncer nonchalantly, in an attempt to convince the much more muscular man that he posed so little of a threat that letting him into the establishment could no possibly be construed as a risk. "Come in." The bouncer's voice was less gravelly than Charlie imagined. To be honest, he imagined a man as square as the one he was confronted with would sound significantly more like "Macho Man" Randy Savage. As Charlie attempted to walk through the door, however, he felt a forearm restraining him. "No. Just your friend."

"I'm sorry, but you have been selected for a random security check."
"Oh for fuck's sake." Charlie uttered under his breath.
"So, the pole. You need to take it apart. While you do that, I'm going to pat you down."
"Oh... right." Charlie affirmed, pulling the quarterstaff into knife form.
"They don't look safe."
"They're my darts."
"Ok then, I'll let you take them in. But I'll have an eye on you." The bouncer warned him sternly, rubbing his hands over Charlie's toned chest and small hips. "Now you may go."
"Thank you."
"No problem, kid."

When Charlie walked into the bar, knives shoved in his trouser pocket, he saw Kerian stood toward the left wall, talking to a barman. "Yeah, we're not local, so we thought we'd check the place out, you know?" The barman nodded, stroking his moustache (which only made him look mildly like a sex offender) softly. "So, you're here for that festival with the nice black lady who sells the hash cakes?"
"Not specifically the hash cakes, but yes."
"Little tip about hash cakes," the barman said, looking at Kerian sincerely, "start off with one, wait an hour and see how you feel."
"I see." Kerian answered.
"Whatever you do, little man, don't eat fifteen in one go."
"Why not? How strong are they?"
"Don't eat fifteen in one go because, if you do, you will see the Devil and he'll try to rip your heart out through your kneecaps."
"I understand." Kerian replied, utterly bemused and mystified by the capricious barman. "Anyway, I'd like an Archers and orange, please."
"Ok." The barman affirmed, somehow mixing a drink without once breaking his unnerving eye contact with Kerian. Having created the drink in a small Martini glass, he continued to look at Kerian. "Three Lien ninety-nine, mate." Kerian nodded, and handed over a small deck of plastic cards to the mustachioed barman, before walking over to Charlie who was stood near the doorway next to the jazz singer.

"Drinking in the day? Really?" Charlie asked his friend, like a disappointed parent.
"Of course. Want a bit?" Kerian offered the glass out to him.
"No thanks."
"Suit yourself." Kerian walked off to the packed floor, where he saw a black-haired man in a red suit jacket and white ruffed shirt, who was counting a large pile of Lien cards. "Hello." Kerian greeted him. "Good afternoon, my name's Vince Noir. Vale's most effeminate bookmaker. What can I do for you, son?"
"What odds do you have on my friend?"
"Who is he?"
"That one over there with the Stetson."
"Right, right. Quite tall, would have a good fashion sense if he had more sparkles. Strong-looking hands but looks about as athletic as a fanfiction writer."
"Sounds like him to me." Kerian joked.
"I suppose I can give you ninety to one on his first game. What you got to put on him?"

Kerian fished in the pocket of his shirt for his last five plastic cards. "Five Lien?" Vince answered, appalled at the low amount. "I suppose I can do that."