The game of poker began.
Everyone placed their chips on the table. The dealer dealt the cards. One by one, the players said...
"Bet."
"Call."
"Raise."
Raymond's presence must have been irritating to the group. Since he wasn't part of the game, they hadn't given him any cards. It was why everyone pretended he wasn't there, and Raymond understood. If it was him, he would've done the same too.
One man always clenched the muscles in his neck before he raised, while Naomi had a habit of leaning forward while she was concentrating. Vincent kept his movements light, concealed of any hint of intent. From time to time, he took a chip and turned it in his fingers, but Raymond couldn't spot any pattern to it.
Vincent was in his element. He had an upturned tilt to his lips and his eyes were focused on the table.
The only time his mask faltered was when he glanced across the table, at the second player in their round.
The man displayed an even expression, with a stern set to his brow. He had neatly cut hair and wore a grey suit, acting as if he didn't notice nor care.
Vincent was staring daggers at him. They were the eyes of hatred and paralyzing fear.
The man in grey was the first to fold, followed by two others. In the end, Vincent was left with the pot.
"I win," he said at last, sounding surprised like he didn't expect it.
Congratulations were muttered from around the table. Vincent took the chips and pocketed them.
"Are you going to cash out?" the man in grey said.
Vincent looked over at him. "None of your business," he replied.
Then he left.