02 [public dream]
Effects: Mostly being calm, though the peculiar feeling of being drunk might seep in and out. When things start to kick off, the heart will beat faster but there's still an element of calm there.]
It was a game of poker. It was important, some how, the intense gaze held between each player at the table. One man sat back, threw his cards down and mumbled a small 'fold', and Phoenix kept his gaze level. He was staring at a man opposite him, a cigarette left to burn to death in an ashtray by his left hand. He was confident he'd win, and it was something that certainly showed. Phoenix was intelligent enough to realize every flick of the wrist, every twitch, every uncertain eye movement and every sideways glance. He wasn't scared. Phoenix was famous for being unbeatable, and he barely broke a sweat.
The smoke was heavy throughout the dingy little underground room, each man sporting a cigar or cigarette in their hands. If smoking made the men he sat with feel at ease, then Phoenix wasn't going to complain.
He pushed himself back against the chair, an arm resting lazily on the table as his fingers pushed a poker chip from knuckle to knuckle seamlessly. Finally, the man opposite Phoenix smirked and set his cards down squarely on the table. He had 4 kings. Phoenix dropped the chip and flattened it out with his palm before flicking his eyes up to greet a smirk.
It wasn't enough. Phoenix had a full flush. He took one card from his hand and placed it on the table, following with every other card until there was nothing left. He could feel everyone's eyes on the cards in front of him, and it didn't take two seconds before his opponent stood up, knock the table over in a fit of rage and began raving about being cheated out of his money. Phoenix kept still, sat in his chair as he peered up with the same slick smile on his face.
"Problem?"
It was a game of poker. It was important, some how, the intense gaze held between each player at the table. One man sat back, threw his cards down and mumbled a small 'fold', and Phoenix kept his gaze level. He was staring at a man opposite him, a cigarette left to burn to death in an ashtray by his left hand. He was confident he'd win, and it was something that certainly showed. Phoenix was intelligent enough to realize every flick of the wrist, every twitch, every uncertain eye movement and every sideways glance. He wasn't scared. Phoenix was famous for being unbeatable, and he barely broke a sweat.
The smoke was heavy throughout the dingy little underground room, each man sporting a cigar or cigarette in their hands. If smoking made the men he sat with feel at ease, then Phoenix wasn't going to complain.
He pushed himself back against the chair, an arm resting lazily on the table as his fingers pushed a poker chip from knuckle to knuckle seamlessly. Finally, the man opposite Phoenix smirked and set his cards down squarely on the table. He had 4 kings. Phoenix dropped the chip and flattened it out with his palm before flicking his eyes up to greet a smirk.
It wasn't enough. Phoenix had a full flush. He took one card from his hand and placed it on the table, following with every other card until there was nothing left. He could feel everyone's eyes on the cards in front of him, and it didn't take two seconds before his opponent stood up, knock the table over in a fit of rage and began raving about being cheated out of his money. Phoenix kept still, sat in his chair as he peered up with the same slick smile on his face.
"Problem?"