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Wearing his black tuxedo, Neal entered into the Casino. The hush of big, serious money filled the room. Wether crowded around the roulette tables, perched on stools playing black jack, watching or being watched, no one spoke much above a whisper.
It was nearly religious reverence for the arrogant and ostentatious wealth that made the scene possible. The holy devotion to smart looks, large diamonds, expensive clothes, and the exhilaration of winning or being able to afford to loose. The self-fascination of the beautiful people at play. The smoky, alcoholic atmosphere was further stimulated by the distinct presence of fear. Or perhaps, more accurately, the electric tension generated by the imminent loss or possible gain of thousands of dollars on a single turn of wheel or a card over which only fate had control. At best there could be misplaced and often desperate hope, or in some cases, foolish but mystical faith.
The guards already knew who Neal Ackerman was but they wanted to see his and Eve's I.D. anyway. Neal handed him fake identification cards. The new guard on the door scanned their card, his fake driver's license, checking their face against the photo, before letting them into the Casino.
"So we are here, Are you ready to play?!" Neal beamed to Evelyn.
Wearing his black tuxedo, Neal entered into the Casino. The hush of big, serious money filled the room. Wether crowded around the roulette tables, perched on stools playing black jack, watching or being watched, no one spoke much above a whisper.
It was nearly religious reverence for the arrogant and ostentatious wealth that made the scene possible. The holy devotion to smart looks, large diamonds, expensive clothes, and the exhilaration of winning or being able to afford to loose. The self-fascination of the beautiful people at play. The smoky, alcoholic atmosphere was further stimulated by the distinct presence of fear. Or perhaps, more accurately, the electric tension generated by the imminent loss or possible gain of thousands of dollars on a single turn of wheel or a card over which only fate had control. At best there could be misplaced and often desperate hope, or in some cases, foolish but mystical faith.
The guards already knew who Neal Ackerman was but they wanted to see his and Eve's I.D. anyway. Neal handed him fake identification cards. The new guard on the door scanned their card, his fake driver's license, checking their face against the photo, before letting them into the Casino.
"So we are here, Are you ready to play?!" Neal beamed to Evelyn.