Jun 26, 2019
@alexandervbarrett
Raymond, as usual, had something akin to an idiotic smile on his face. He was a simple man, of simple pleasures. He liked to drink, he liked sex, and he always got a fucking kick out of knocking someone’s teeth in. In a place like Luck O’ The Irish, it wasn’t a big surprise that he was propped up against the walls of a VIP area, wiping blood off his knuckles with a cocktail napkin. Upon Alexander’s approach, he grinned wider, holding up a pair of dice between his fingers as two security guards hauled the bloodies man out.
“Loaded. Don’t you fucking hate cheaters?”