A Jester's Luck | Minho & Minki
“Oh, how very unfortunate,” the low bass exclaimed with a theatric exhibition of empathy, which was mirrored to almost abstract perfection by its owner’s features. Another round had tragically ended in the absolute destruction of the luck-seeker’s hopes, whereupon the game master’s lips offered a compassionate smile in all its proper wryness. No one would have guessed that, underneath the colorful farce, lured the less lustrous sincerity of greed and self-gratification. The more he won, however, the more the trickster’s features changed. With every win to his favor, Minki’s eyes sparked with amusement that he quickly hid as he regained proper composure, and there was a small twist to the corners of his mouth, a little twitch that let them rise just a little higher than appropriate.
It wasn’t the aspect of victory that was poison to the raven-head’s demeanor – there was nothing for him to gain from the visitors but a few Won, a small bit of extra money. No, what managed to instigate such reactions were the expressions of the unsuspecting bait. How their eyes widened in utter surprise and then narrowed in on their personal subject of suspicion was a reaction to ridicule. And the more the evening progressed, the more temerarious Minki became. His expression slipped more often to the resemblance of a sneer and the satisfied gleam in his eyes gained visibility as if testimony to the Machiavellian truth behind his luck.
Once the main attractions were over and done with, however, the crowds gathering at the trickster’s table were slowly but surely diminishing. At the realization, a sensation of boredom materialized in his stomach, gaining almost tangible weight. When the last baffled spectator had left with a frown and a nixing shake of his head, Minki felt the void catch up to him again. He was more reluctant than ever to pack his belongings and call it a day than usual, and so, reaching for a yet-not-existing cigarette in the back pocket of his jean, he cast a glance around the emptying space surrounding him.
His sable-rimmed eyes soon fixated on the figure of a man standing nearby. The other was staring and it took Minki a few seconds to realize that he was the very receiver of that scrutiny. Retracting his hand from his pocket, the corner of the trickster's mouth curved to a smile and he waved the other over with an inviting gesture. The man was, as quite obvious by the way of familiarity he moved, a member of the circus as well – A fact igniting a spark of excitement in Minki’s gut. “How about it,” he called out, unable not to tinge his voice with a hue of ridicule as he elaborated, ”We’ll see who’s luck is better, mine or yours.”
