Sitting across the table from her opponent, she looked at a man with hard facial features, it seemed as if some hint of a clean shave on him started to leave and he looked weathered, rough, with signs of aged gray stubble and a beard beginning. The two were playing poker, and the match seemed to have attracted a small crowd.

Velda checked her option on the last card dealt, seeing if he wanted to go to showdown flip the cards over and find out who had the best hand. It seemed like he might considering Velda turned the hand into a roller coaster nightmare for him, yet the man held on for dear life throughout the hand. He refused to fold and throw his cards out for the next hand, it seemed like he was determined to win this pot, no matter the cost, for some reason he just wanted those credits. And on this last card dealt he pushed all his remaining credits on the table toward the middle, he was all in.

As Velda watched him, she wondered about the man’s sanity; he couldn’t be serious. The brunette replayed the hand in her head, thinking of the possible lines of plays that could lead to this decision and none came that made any sense.

If she called his bet and lost, she wouldn’t be broke on the table but would severely reduce her chips, if she called and won, then all of his chips was hers and the match would be over. In a way she couldn’t blame him, she bullied and tricked him the entire time, she slowly drained him of his chip stack like a vampire slowly siphoning blood. He had to make a stand at some point, she just didn’t think it was now.

“I call” she flipped her cards over, and he did his. Velda was holding a pair of four’s, and if he connected with anything on the board she was beat, but her hand was strong enough to beat a bluff. He turned over a Jack and an eight and he had no part of the board at all, he was bluffing, and he looked like he just saw his life flash before his eyes when it dawned on him she called his bluff with that.

It seemed like he had that empty feeling of shock in his tummy.

He stood up quickly, bumping rudely into a patron while doing so “How did you make that call!? Who are you?” Velda at this point was taking his credits and sipping her drink, as the crowd was beginning to scatter “I’m the Devil.” She sarcastically said, feeling he never actually earned her name. After replying, she glanced around and behind him she saw a regular to the cantina.

Velda poked her finger in the woman’s direction a couple of times pointing her out to the man, and he turned around to face her.