Re: Entertainment District Site: The Golden Fleece
Redrick's bon mots seemed to be working towards the desired outcome. As the dice continued to pass from Hand to Hand, all three men were loosening up. Redrick had the distinct impression that the winning gnome had identified him as a sharp fairly early in the game. Likewise, it hadn't taken Redrick more than a few passes to determine that the current winner was also more than skilled at the game, and possibly his success was the result of skills aside from dicing. A particular flick of the wrist on one cast was especially telling...
Nonetheless, once the gnome, who called himself Reive, ascertained that whatever Redrick's purpose might be, it didn't involve cheating him out of his hard-earned gains, he was cordial and friendly enough, if still a bit quiet.
The two other men, drawn into the webs of the lovely ladies of the Fleece, were another matter altogether. Nell's mark, who referred to himself as Felderlen, grew more drunk each minute, probably in inverse proportion to the disappearance of stacks of coin before him. As though his gambling losses were not enough, Redrick also noticed Nell's clever hands snatching the stray silver or three from the inebriated Gnome's small pile, generally while distracting him with playful obscenities.
Meanwhile, the human, a Mister Pottinger, was becoming more and more captivated by Worthy's ministrations, and when she produced a small, paper-wrapped packet of some sort of narcotic from her bodice, his eyes practically smoldered. With flesh and drugs in the offering, Redrick assumed the council functionary would be moving to one of the private rooms soon.
"Yeah, well...imagine that your boss was a 'mistress' instead of a Mate," Felderlen offered as he raked in a small pot on a rare win. "Like having all of the bitching, but doubled and trebled. That's Mistress Sandrine for you! Spice is a perfect trade for that one; she runs hot as ground dellian chilis and sour as vites root. Makes my eyes sting looking at her, while my ears burn off listening to her!" He chuckled, and then leaned forward as if to share a secret.
"But at least she doesn't pay well!" the gnome stage whispered with a straight face, and then guffawed, slapping his little fist hard enough on the table to make the stacks of coin bounce. Reive smiled thinly at the jape while putting protective hands around his pile; Pottinger didn't even seem to hear it, lost in Worthy's nibbles and nuzzles.