HiGH ROLLER [open]

[hound4]

False charm. It fits her so well, there’s so much of it. So goddamn much. Asher knows. Asher knows that she’s a damn good con. She knows what he’s good at and she’s going to make the best of it. There’s a smile playing on the gentleman’s lips as he makes his way through the casino. It wasn’t a big deal to drop some cash, to get a room. Yeah, there wasn’t anything she couldn’t afford. Asher was more than well aware of it. No qualms, nothing held back, just a broad grin on her face. It’s an arrogant expression, but that she can afford too. There’s plenty of things to hold her attention here.

It’s filled with pretty things. Young men in tight pants with sliding smiles, little flirty grins—flirting made her sick, mostly. It made her sick until she was drunk enough. For all intents and purposes, this was a young man on the prowl. None of them would be taken back and up to bed, none of them would be taken farther than pretty piece sitting on her lap. Girls with tight skirts, low cut shirts… it seemed like there was a lot of glitter, too. Glitter… sparkles. Funny. It was entertaining… too entertaining.

And that’s why Asher was here today. She was tucked up to a poker table, and there was a pile of chips before her. It was an evening for winning. People had been calling the gentleman gangster sir all evening, and it made everything all the more… easy. Yes, this was a man’s world, and she’d learned that early on. It was as a man she’d take the world by storm—no worries. She didn’t need any worries. From the earliest days, the ones after she fell, she’d been playing poker. Poker was what she did best, and from the sizeable stack of Technicolor chips before her it was clear.

WORDS! enough, yeah.
STATUS! done done done
TAGS! open
NOTES! ew, starter post.
CLOTHES! click me?!
CREDITS! Template Byarro @ Caution!
LYRICS! Colorado Sunrise by 3OH!3

[/size]

[JONATHAN PATRICK REEVES]

[style=padding:305px 4px 4px 4px;][style=font-family:georgia; font-size:40px; letter-spacing:-3px; color:#fff; text-shadow:1px 1px 1px #000; line-height:1%; text-transform:lowercase; text-align:left;]war without end

[style=height: 187px;-moz-border-radius: 15 15 15 15; overflow-y: scroll; text-align:justify; background-color:ffffff; padding:4px; color:#272727; line-height:1.1em; font-size:9px; font-family:arial; margin: 7px 0px 0px 0px; opacity: .7;]
This was the type of place people would have expected to find Jonathan. It fit him, the dangerous werewolf gambling and drinking away all his worries. But in truth he rarely ever put himself through this torture. Places like this made him feel dizzy, they were full packed with sweaty bodies that didn't seem to care about anything but the next stroke of luck they may or may not get. So Jon may have looked like a person who belonged in a joint like this but the reality was different. He walked past the slot machines and the people who didn't have the skill to make it higher up, he walked past the people who were placing there last dimes on a bet that they knew, if they didn't win, could bring there whole life crashing down. Jon had no pity for them, but then again it would have been a challenge to find someone he did feel sorry for. He didn't have any remorse for them, believing that the mistakes they made where there own, no one had given a crap about him and Jon went by what he knew. He didn't consider himself to be evil, or unfeeling that wasn't necessarily what being dark meant, but he did know that he wasn't the perfect angel. Far from it, and it wasn't just the animal side in him, long before that he knew that being good wasn't for him, his morals were too lose for that, his instincts too dark.

Part of him had hoped that this place had suddenly been transformed, that it had changed but there was no such luck for him. Had he had a choice in coming here, he certainly would have stayed away. But really the friends he had were the kind of people that you would find here, they were the stereotypical gambler. Friends? No, not friends just people who had a use for him, there weren't very many people who would fit under that category. Continuing to walk he found the right table and sat down, the faces in front of him blurred together, only one really standing out. It was the cool calm of that person that really made him notice them. There was a superior air around them and that made him cautious, he may have been good at poker, not giving much away but he somehow got the idea that this person was better then him. That was hard to admit and damn it if he wasn't going to go out of his way to prove it wrong. Giving them a look he hoped that his pockets were deep enough.

WORDS: 440
NOTES: Hope this is okay, and gets us of to a good start. :)

Created bySTALK ME REDNECK!f

[/style][/style]