roulette.
@sinsraged @redemptioninterlude @aadorations @thedarktriads @atlvntida @fleurcttes
Dim lights paint the walls with the silhouettes of seven bodies gathered in the middle of the room. From the other side of the door, victorious jeers and the ringing in of loot contrasts the bone chilling silence within the four walls. The taunting tick of the analog clock is deafening as the night draws on and the smell of death, mingled with rotting wallpaper, sits heavy in the private room of the casino.
Soomin’s nails tap against the wood of the table, body leaned back with ease. Empty eyes meticulously examine the features of men and women with nothing to lose. Not a single one looks like they belong, but money made humans do some bizarre things. Her eyes flicker to the briefcase sitting in the corner of the room, a rectangular man standing on guard before it. If the slouch of his body isn’t enough to showcase his boredom, the long drawn yawn contorting his disproportionate features is. Soomin in theory, crafted by anyone looking at the room through a logical lens, was there for the money. Soomin in actuality and at heart, wasn’t there for the money. It was clear, from the pressed look of her tailored suit to the sheen on polished shoes that she had more than enough of that and then some.
Soomin Han was there because she believed herself to be larger than God. Nothing had ever been able to touch her before, and nothing had ever survived her own touch. This would be no different.
When the invitation had come from a client, she had been skeptical. Regularly dealing with criminals, whether innocent or guilty, had resulted in a habit of perpetual disbelief. You couldn’t trust them when they swore with their palm against their entire belief system, and especially not when a jury was sure they deserved freedom. She’s weaselled enough men and women into the public’s good favour to know that words had power. Her words had power, but so did her pride. It’s that pride that had her prodding at the mention of a challenge, one inquiry after another anytime his demeanour suggested that she wasn’t up to it. So when he’s got her undivided attention, when she’s fallen prey to his carefully planned out ploy, he tells her all about it. The cash, the thrill, the victory.
Her victory.
One she can practically taste, oh so sweet, with very little understanding of the consequences that came with it. For Soomin could care less about most of the strangers crammed into close quarters, but she’d be a liar if she tried to say her eyes had left the familiar face sitting across from her since she had walked in. Family was not a concept Soomin understood well. With absent parents and frequently changing nannies, there were few she could call her own. But the notion of kin was not lost on her and the pull of heartstrings was evident as flashbacks of gatherings and parties dance through her memories. They’d laughed together and cried together. More than can be said about anyone else in Soomin’s life. However brief their interactions were, however many faked under the pretence of formality, they had occurred and the reality of it weighed down on her more than ever before.
It unnerves her the way her leg bounces under the table with an overwhelming feeling of anxiety that was foreign to the otherwise confident (read: cocky) lawyer. There was only one way to rid herself of it, and that sat in the center or the table.
“Cowards,” she states like a fact as slim arm darts forward to gingerly pull the revolver towards her. With the way she cradles it in her palm, it’s clear that she’s never handled one. The man in the corner lifts his foot to step forward before she snaps at him. “I know how this works.”
Knuckles go white with the grip she has on the hilt, staring down the barrel for a second as breath catches in the back of her throat. It’s almost like a switch flicked on with the way her hesitation drops and she presses the gun to her temple. She stares not at her cousin, but at the man tasked to babysit them.
The pull of a trigger and the seconds that come before it.