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</div>The night was too loud. Way too loud in her opinion. Between the machines, the pungent odor of stale cigarette smoke mixing with the sweet scent of booze, it all made the tension in her shoulders worse. The tightening of her muscles trailed from between her shoulders and up her neck, straining the muscles up to her temples. It wasn't how she envisioned her night out with her fiance.<br/><br/>They both had been working hard. Late nights and chaotic mornings lead to exhaustion. If they weren't working or running errands, they spent the evening with barely a word exchanged between them. Fed up, Cordelia Rodriguez flew off the handle. It wasn't full-blown anger. She truly tried to be understanding. They would have to force some quality time in their schedule or else things weren't going to end pretty between them. The ending wasn't quite said between them, but Delia knew it was a possibility. They needed to keep the romance. They needed to keep the flame burning before it went out<i>before</i>they got married.<br/><br/>Delia sighed and put her empty glass on the counter of the bar. She had been sitting there for what felt like hours. Her fiance, Nate, had the bright idea of coming to this fancy-schmancy casino of sorts. Wining, dining, and dancing. That's what he had promised. Never did she think that she'd be sitting alone, at the bar, watching her soon-to-be husband gamble their wedding and honeymoon money at poker.<br/><br/>She wasn't even sure how the hell they got into the place. It was too...fancy. Neither of them made nearly as much money put together as the people in the room made in a single night. Money seemed to drip from every pore in that room. It made her feel singled out, only adding to the tension and frustration she was feeling. She could only imagine what the stakes were where Nate was at. Surely the buy-in was as expensive as her wedding dress.<br/><br/>Delia nodded over at the bartender. Wordlessly, she requested another drink before running her hands through her dark hair. Once she got herself another refill, Delia took her glass and got down from the bar stool. After adjusting her little black dress she got out a few bills for the bartender to pay her tab with her free hand. Once done she draped her shawl over her arm and snagged her clutch from bar top. She took a breath and paused to look at the amber liquid in her hand as if studying it; the whiskey was slowly warming the ice and creating condensation on the glass. The melted ice created swirls of color around the alcohol. It was trance-like in her state, but did little to console her soul. With a few pulls, she left the glass once again empty and headed towards Nate at the poker table. She was intent on dragging him home, or take the keys from him. She might not have been in any condition to drive but she sure as hell wasn't going to sit there and watch him kill their savings either.