<div class="floatleft">(http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q15/doogieporker/94uqfb7x0ihp3724e256.jpg)</div><strong>Character: Desmond King<br/><br/>Location: Lola's Saloon - Poker table <br/><br/>Time of day: Night <br/><br/>Tagging: Belladonna<br/></strong><br/><br/>Desmond watched as the woman sauntered over toward him, his dark eyes paying particular attention to the roll of her hips, the gentle sway with every step. His gaze lifted to meet her own, and when she raised her glass and spoke, he smirked.<br/><br/>"<em>Dheagh shlàinte</em>." he replied, though hardly with the same Gaelic twist to his words. He lifted the glass and drank, though slowly, wanting to keep his wits about him. He was already three drinks into the night, and there was still much to do.<br/><br/>"I'm impressed. I didn't think Lola would have scotch this far inland." he added a moment later. "Had a farmhand named Dugan who loved the stuff."<br/><br/>The next round dealt, Desmond focused his attention on the cards in his hand. This time around, it was a much better play, and the full house he was carrying would definitely win the pot. But he remained quiet, merely tossing another chip into the center of the table, something smaller this time. The three men barely noticed, however, their eyes riveted on the shapely, fiery haired lass standing beside him.<br/><br/>"Call." he said, drawing their attention to the game. Seeing his bet, the others did likewise, raising the pot even higher, nearly a hundred dollars now. Each played their hand, going around the table, one higher than the next, all of them showing decent chances of winning.<br/><br/>But there was a problem. Three kings showed on the table, and two more were in his hand. He knew that he did not cheat, not at cards, anyway, and if he had to guess, the culprit was the large fellow across from him, grinning ear to ear like a crazed polecat.<br/><br/>Desmond had to resist the urge to pull his pistol. In his younger years, he likely would have. His temper was something terrible to behold, and he had a bit of a reputation as a gunslinger because of it. But that was a long time ago, and he was older and wiser, not the same rash young cowboy he had once been. Surely, he was still as fast and as deadly as that man from years past, but he was much more collected now. There was simply too much at stake to put a bullet in the skull of a card cheat, especially for the newcomer to town. It simply was not worth the risk.<br/><br/>Instead, he laid his cars face down, sat back, and sipped his scotch.<br/><br/>"Fold." he said. "Poker just isn't my game tonight, boys. And it would seem I have far prettier company. Have a good night."<br/><br/>He stood, taking up his glass and the bottle, turning toward Belladonna. His dark eyes stared down into her own, and a trace of a smile formed on his lips. He stood quietly for a moment, looming over her, before lifting one hand towards an empty table.<br/><br/>"What do you say, beautiful?" he asked. "Care to make this conversation a little more private?"