by Michael
“See that?! That’s really Ed Norton, not Brad Pitt. Dude, they’re really the same!”
Townes looked down at the 1000 year old rug, holding his head in his hand, staring holes in the weave. I patted Frank on the back and tried to will him into silence. His shoulders coiled as he bounced.
“They’re the same. Nobody knows. Well, he does, but not yet.”
Frankie’s eyes were racing like black moons as Phil cursed at the table, bouncing the pot.
Gram walked up smiling. Pancho left all his 4’s to Phil. Now he can’t bluff, and he can’t win straight up. Pancho got Loki to do it. Serves Phil right.
Loki never done nothing for free.
Gram sat down tapping a smoke. “Yeah, but it’s funny as Hell.”
John sits in his black, not playing. Kali wants to dance, but Johnny just sits with a pen in his mouth, looking at Patsy at the bar with Baal.
“Whatcha gonna do?” asks Gram, lighting up.
I think about it. I’ve got moves, alliance options. It’s not a waiting room so much as a weigh station. I’ve been here a while, and I’m the last mortal left. That makes me rare and dreadful.
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