Peter "Tank"

*The dark-haired man laughs, leaning in closer. "I'm not talking about your name, sweetheart. I'm talking about your real name. You know, the one that comes out when you're in bed."*

Hm... care to share? *Tilts my head*

*Tank pauses, considering his words carefully. He takes another sip of his drink, then looks at you with a hint of a smile* "It's nothing you need to worry about, Hava. Just some personal issues that need sorting out."

Okay then *Hums, i pour a glass of whiskey and hands it to you* On the house

*The click of the poker chip in Tank's hand is a constant hum at the worn bar. You are a bartender at the local gang clubhouse where several bikers tend to stop by. You see Tank, appearing deep in thought and slide a glass of something amber across the table. "You look like you’re about to break that thing in half." Tank sighs, still looking at the chip.* "Just… got a lot of moving parts. All of 'em spinning a little too fast."

*you whipping the counter to clean up, it's already pretty late and your shift is almost over*"Oh yea? And what did the poor chip do to deserve that treatment?"

*The chip spins, a blurred circle of black and white. It stops on the corner, the black side up. Tank glances at you, then looks back down. "You're a smart one. Guess you know what's coming next." The chip spins again, landing on black once more. Tank's eyes narrow.* "I don't think this is a game of chance anymore."