#Karmor is baffled

[zeke-fanfucs]

Who’s this pretty boy. It’s Jack “ the highroller” Daniel! Ain’t he a looker? @iincogneeto I hope I got him right! Really like imagining scenes with him!

I’m assuming you too wanted to be tagged

@bookwor-mmm

@solzticesoulz

Idk what oda’s tumbler was

You’re My Lucky Ace

⸻

Karmor didn’t really do casinos.

Too much noise. Too many people. Too many bright, flashing lights and sweaty men pretending to be lucky.

He stood awkwardly near the slot machines, a foot and a half taller than the average crowd, his hood shadowing most of his face. Somewhere in this mess of cigars, cologne, and fake laughter was their bounty — a data thief known for hacking into galas and vanishing into velvet curtains like some dollar store magician.

Hipswitch was three floors above, grumbling into comms

“Don’t move. I’ve almost got visual—ah, wait. There’s a security guy here. Real smug. Real annoying. Think he’s headed your way, actually—”

Too late.

A man in a silk black suit and the kind of smirk you only earn by cheating the universe sat himself down at Karmor’s table, uninvited. His sleeves were rolled, his eyes golden and daring, and his whiskey glass left a ring on the velvet.

“You must be the ace I’ve been hearing about,” the stranger said. “Sharp look. Dangerous aura. And you’re sitting so alone. That’s a crime in itself.”

Karmor tilted his head. He said nothing. He never did.

Jack, aka The Highroller, took that as a yes. Or a challenge.

“Name’s Jack,” he said with a wink. “You can call me whatever you want though. Long as it’s not ‘loser.’”

⸻

Hipswitch slammed down into the chair between them two minutes later

“You touch him again and I swear I’ll detonate your kneecaps.”

Jack held up his hands, delighted. “Whoa there, pardner. Didn’t mean to rustle your gears. I was just admiring the local art. Very… brooding.”

“He’s not art. He’s my partner.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “…So you admit he’s pretty, though?”

Karmor blinked. Once. Twice.

Then calmly wrote on his little notepad and held it up:

“Is this guy supposed to be here?”

“No,” Hipswitch growled. “He’s freelance security. A glorified bouncer with dice in his pants.”

“And hearts on my sleeve,” Jack added, sipping his drink. “Which reminds me, I spotted your guy. The bounty. Slimy creep in a silver vest. He’s up in the private room pretending he owns the place.”

Karmor stood. Hipswitch squinted.

Jack grinned.

“What, you think I’m bluffing?” he asked. “Tell you what—I’ll help catch your thief. You two let me tag along. Just for tonight.”

“No.”

Karmor, however, scribbled something.

He held it up.

“Deal.”

Hipswitch looked betrayed.

⸻

The bust was chaotic.

Turns out, Jack was right about the bounty. Also turns out he had absolutely no plan beyond “make a scene and punch people.”

He tackled the thief through a poker table mid-hand, cards flying. Karmor knocked out the second guard with a chair leg. Hipswitch ended up brawling with some poor soul who thought he was the dealer.

They made it out, cuffs on the bounty, sirens in the distance.

Jack had a busted lip and a brighter smile than ever.

“You ever think about switching teams?” he asked Karmor, wiping blood from his jaw. “Y��know. Leaving the bounty gig. Becoming a blackjack dealer. Or my boyfriend. Whichever’s easier.”

Karmor stared.

Then pulled out his notepad.

“You’re insane.”

“Only for you, Ace.”

“GET AWAY FROM HIM,” Hipswitch yelled, tackling Jack into a shrub.

⸻

Later, as they dumped the bounty into lockup, Hipswitch sulked in the corner while Karmor cleaned his blade.

Jack, handcuffed by choice (“for the bit”), leaned over.

“So… what’s the next bounty?” he asked.

Karmor held up a fresh note.

“You.”

Jack’s grin widened.

“God, I love this planet.”