#judee

The Darkest Minds + Male Characters

Ranch owner!Ardee x Cowboy!Justin

— western au.

— synopsis: of posies and engines.

(inspired by the power of the dog by savage hehe)

I

Ardee Aarons was a man of many promises and not enough dignity. Every time a man wanted something done, they'd go to him on his ranch, the Aarons Ranch down west, and borrow a cow, a horse — anything they could get their hands on, really — and then never return the darn thing. Yes, Ardee had little dignity for a man so rich. Despite owning the entire ranch and owning enough property and coin to buy every stable hand and their mother off the land, the appeal of gold never quite glimmered in his mind as the evening sun did when it descended on the lands.

It was a humble hobby. There was a hillside by the ranch that he tended to visit by, blooming with wildflowers, or as Ardee liked to call them posies, in the Indian summer. You could ask him which posies had certain off shades of blue and red for he knew all about the colors, could ask him which posies smelled of May and April and he'd direct you right to them like he knew the field as if it were the back of his own hand! But little he did know of the Latin names of each posie or what medicinal properties they had or how to tend to them properly. Ardee did not read many books, not like his friends that lived on this ranch who achieved the highest of accolades back in college. No, Ardee did not read those scientific books too much, and he was not fond of novels. He still reads, however.

He found his reading solace within the newspapers they send from the upper town every Sunday, all about the new technology and locomotives. There was a new engine, a Pierce, but he'd never admit to wanting an engine in front of his pals, who all liked steam and locomotives that rang out flame and smoke from the little pipe out one end that Ardee just never was able to remember the name of, although he had very good memory when it counted. He'd sit in the tall leather chair covered with a fur blanket passed onto him by the Old Gent and lean back as he flicked through the pages in the privacy of his living room against the warmth of the fireplace. Above his fireplace was a collection of vases full of flowers he plucks from the field, though most of them withered and dropped their petals into the fireplace because they weren't watered well enough. He'd have Mrs. Barrette handle the logistics of posies while he looked at them and let men take horse and cow from the stables like loose change off a wallet. On the days Mrs. Barrette, that kind old widow was not there to look after the flowers, he'd write to his younger brother Arden and ask him to come over under the excuse of family time when really he just wanted someone to keep the posies from passing away and getting cremated.

His younger brother's car rolled onto the dim porch, headlights illuminating the dead air and the small fruit flies that came alive from the dirt. The wheels scratch against the soil, coating them in a thin coat of brown. After a moment the engine whirrs down to a stop and the red car door clicks open, welcoming the sight of a boot.

“Arden!” Ardee calls out with a wide grin. “You made it. I was startin’ to think you'd just’ve passed on me.”

“If I could, I would. I was busy haulin’ this cowboy over, from east, says he's lookin’ for work. And a good man can't leave another man in the dark when I'm out already on my way to yours, figured he could find some good shit work on the ranch,” Arden explains as he chews on the end of a hay stick.

He gestures to the passenger car door that opened, and out stepped a man in starched jeans — like any good cowboy — and a hat a little bigger than necessary. On the bridge of his nose stood square a pair of glasses, gleaming from the white, sharp front glow of the car. He travels his way towards the Aaron brothers, stopping just short of them.

“Evening; my name is Justin Coleman, sir,” Justin greets, hands shuffling until they find their place in the loops of his denim. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

“No, it's alright.” Ardee waves off. “I've had many men like you drop by ‘n’ find some work here, on the Aarons ranch. They all come ‘n’ go nicely, they do.”

“You still have work to give,” Justin remarks with a slightly raised brow.

Ardee’s arm lifts, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well,” he pauses, selecting his words, “big ranch,” he concludes sufficiently.

There's a lingering silence amongst them that leaves them simply shifting in place. Arden scratches his leg, slapping a mosquito off his thigh.

“Well, let's head in,” Ardee clears his throat, opening his arm towards the porch.

“Yes, that's an idea.” Arden nods.

The three men enter the house, finding their places inside. Ardee invites his brother and the guest over to the main room to chat, though Arden excuses himself to go take a leak out first. The elder Aarons brother resigns with a shrug, grunting as he takes his seat in his leather throne. Arden's always been the awkward kind around new companies, like his older brother — it was a miracle he even brought someone along with him, someone he barely knew. A swell of pride bubbles up in his chest at his younger brother's kindness for this stranger, who continues to stand across him stiffly. Justin makes little move to sit until Ardee directs him, to which he sits rigid and straight.

Justin's eyes travel the tall expanse of the living room’s walls, staring at the shelves of trinkets and the photos that decorated them. There was a distinct photo of the Aarons family, near picture perfect, sitting in a brand new car with Ardee's smaller arms bundled up with posies and Arden's face caught in a half-sneeze.

“I remember that one,” Ardee's voice breaks Justin out of whatever train of thought he had as he attempts conversation, something he wasn't much accustomed to. “Bought a fresh car, one of the first models released in our area, this area I've lived in for thirty-six summers.”

Justin leans forward in his seat. “Thirty-six summers? You're about a year older than me, sir.”

“Really? ‘n’ you're a taller lad,” Ardee chuckles, loosening the collar of his shirt. Justin's eyes train onto the action for a split second before riding up to meet his gaze once more, warmed by the spit of the fireplace. It crackles and bites at the brick walling around it.

“I've been told,” Justin simply replies.

There's another silence now — not still, like the previous one — it's comfortable, breathable, like just two men that are learning to keep each other better company. Ardee adjusts himself in his chair, his focus drifting away from Justin and towards anywhere else in the room, searching for something to talk about that won't lead him directly into a wall. He decides against the posies, afraid Justin will think him a sissy, and glances down at the newspaper resting on the coffee table. He'd read it earlier that morning, news on cars and the new moving picture cinema that's been built a little further away from the ranch.

“You like moving pictures?” he asks, looking up at Justin who was fingering a dent in the arm of his wooden chair. Justin lifts his eyes at Ardee again.

“Some,” Justin answers, “others, not as much, sir.”

Ardee lets out an amused breath. “Drop ‘em formalities. Just call me Ardee.”

Justin's face flushes a soft pink, illuminated by the orange glow of the fire. “Alright — Ardee.”

The moonlight kisses the earth, dawning the fields outside the window in a gentle, caressing light. Magpies — the little tourmaline things — sang a nightly whistle, wishing to harmonize with the away of posies below them. This view was able to be seen through Ardee's bedroom window, this view that now had to be shared with the cowboy that came to visit. You see, Arden was not fancied to the idea of sharing a bed with anyone, and took the spare room for himself, while Justin was supposed to be left to sleep with the other ranchers in the back since the other spare rooms were undergoing maintenance and it was just more sensible to let Justin sleep with the others. However, Ardee didn't feel comfortable with this idea. Justin was a lanky man, and without proper introduction, the other ranchers would surely torment him. The only reason they didn't already, upon Justin's arrival, was because of the Aarons brothers unsociable presence; and the reason they haven't tormented the Aarons brothers yet was simply because they were Aarons and the trouble just wasn't worth the risk. That's how Ardee ended up inviting Justin to sleep in his room with him, a pillow barrier separating them for an ounce of privacy.

“You ain't uncomfortable, or nothin’?” Ardee turns to glance over his shoulder at Justin, who was loosening his clunky belt.

Justin hums, looking over his own shoulder at Ardee. “No, Ardee. You have a soft bed.”

Ardee's lips sport an upward quirk at the words, shifting to rest his neck on his forearm. “Aye, see. You're calling me by name,” he chuckles.

“I suppose I am, Ardee.” A similar smile forms on the cowboy's face.

“You are, Justin.” Justin’s face crawled a shade of posie unlike anything that Ardee’s ever seen before on the wildflower field. Almost makes him want to reach out and pluck and keep in between the pages of pristine pressed books that he’ll never touch.

The thought vanishes from his mind like a cloud of smoke. Get human, he tells himself. No such thing as a man beautiful as a posie — that title was reserved for the little ladies they call flowers by the bar on the border of the ranch, the one Ardee led his men to every special occasion, which they took great joy in making nearly every weekend a great special occasion. He clutches his thumb, clenching his fist at the thought. How could a wealthy man like him be so weak to the will of others, after all? He was no sissy, for goodness sake. Ain’t a single sissy thing about him! His clothes were starched, always starched, car fast enough to drive away every single misconception that could’ve occurred to anyone looking too closely.

“Ardee?” A voice, quiet as the night, mutters.

“Yeah?”

“I like engines, too.”

A slow heat crawls up Ardee’s neck, settling on the tips of his ears. Justin had seen the folded pages of the newspaper on the table, and had paid close enough attention to notice that. And, he liked them, too. A rarity in the rugged anachronistic town, with most of the men liking power better. To hear someone else other than himself or his brother enjoyed them was like finding a needle in a haystack.

“Really?” His eyes soften a moment before they narrow suspiciously. “You ain’t just sayin’ that to butter me up, are ya?”

Justin laughs. “No.”

Ardee turns to lay on his side, facing Justin. “Say, Justin.”

“Hm?”

“Say, if you like ‘em as much as you say you do — ” he thinks for a second — “then I think you’d be a mighty fine fit on this ranch with me. What’d’ya say?”

Justin’s eyes widen ever-so slightly, a faint shine in them from the moonlight. He opens his mouth to speak — closes it again, like taking back the words he planned to say — then nodded steadily. “I think I’d like that, Ardee.”

A posie blooms on Ardee’s face.

Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.

i wish i had some more time to work on mar/judee. :(

however! i do have many concepts in the works as i dream of it! my personal favorites in the list of my aus (in no particular order!!):

(IN PROGRESS) #5: BARREL

Mafia boss!Maryone x Spy!Justin

— spy / mafia au.

— synopsis: your identity is my ego.

Agent #12. His identity is a number that's given him his whole life. What happens when he takes on a new identity for a mission—and what happens when he feels more at home in his false name than the one he's had forever?

okay, so, ive actually wrote a bit of this one, i forgot if i posted it. probably, LOL. well, there's that. mafia boss maryone comes in a little later! it's def one of my favs since i really love experimenting with themes of identity and such. though, not sure if I can execute the spy/mafia bit, but ill try.

(UNRELEASED) #22: BLUE RIBBON

Pageant Queen!Taken!Genderbend!Ardee x Pageant Queen!Genderbend!Justin

— pageant / homewrecker / genderbend au.

— synopsis: worse than rivals.

Justine (Justin) and Arabella (Ardee) have been rival pageant queens of their country for years. Years of drama, competition, and rivalry. But when Arabella finds a boyfriend? Justine might have another competitor, but for a different prize.

this one ive been totally obsessed with since i conceptualized it. specifically, to homewrecker by sombr. im not particularly fond of sombr, but i really do like this song of his!! and i recently saw online the two pageant queens who ended up falling in love while competing, but I just can't remember their names. anyway, shout-out to them!!

(UNRELEASED) #3: LIMINAL

Timeloop!Justin x Backrooms!Monster!Ardee

— backrooms au.

— synopsis: you're as stuck as i am.

The same yellow walls. The same wooden floors. The same rooms. The same day, over and over again. Justin has been trapped for God knows how long—stuck in a bloody timeloop. He knows where the monster is. Always. He doesn't get close. Doesn't want to. Because once the sun sets, it's as stuck as he is.

this au is the one my friends called me insane for. but, like, hear me out!! so what. eldritch entity x timeloop. that's freaking sick. +the pain and insanity of timeloops +angst? hell yes. im picturing it in my head right now, and good lord, tears. tears. if only i could write it LOL!!!

(UNRELEASED) #19: BRAINZ

Zombie!Justin x Survivor!Ardee

— zombie apocalypse / established relationship au.

— synopsis: a heart with no mind.

Ardee and Justin are in a cute, committed relationship—#loyal. Oh, there's an apocalypse? Doesn't matter. Oh, Justin was bitten? Eh, he's into that. Oh, Ardee's dating a zombie? ... Well, that can be dealt with. Ardee quite likes his brain (and Justin also likes Ardee's brain), but he can always give him his heart. Hopefully not literally.

i thought of this after asking ardee if he would kill justin if justin turned into a zombie, and he said no, so! yeah! and that one song that goes like: "if I were a zombie, id never eat your brain; i just want your heart, just want your heart" or something like that.

goodbye !

so, what the hell is a judee? simple! it's the ship name between my two friends, justin and ardee. marjudee is the ship name between maryone, justin, and ardee. (will be posting marjudee content soon!)

also, musti (often spelled as musty) is maryone x justin. this will be more rare and exist mainly in au's i'll be posting soon!

anyway, im kind of obsessed with their chemistry. so, here's my essential plan for CHANCE (part 1 is already posted!):

[IN PROGRESS] Part 1: CHANCE

Gambler!Justin x Casino Owner!Ardee

— in which a casino owner, ardee aarons, is going bankrupt because someone (cough, justin) keeps winning. he needs him out.

>> yes, ardee will get his money back. and, yes, he will almost certainly fall in love.

justin coleman is the luckiest man in the world. he wins every poker game without cheating. he wins every lottery he's been in. he's never stepped in poop, nor has he ever tripped over a stone.

the one thing he isn't lucky with? people.

and it just so happens that there's a certain way he can get one to stay. (cough, ardee.)

here's the deal without me spoiling too much of my plans (or not revealing that i actually don't have anything detailed out): ardee and justin are the main couple and will end up together. you'll have to wait for the next parts of CHANCE to release to figure out the whys and hows.

however! there's more.

you know how ardee is still bankrupt financially, despite finding love? and justin still has to pay taxes, even if he won them through gambling?

cue: the debt collector.

[UNRELEASED] Part 2: FORTUNE

Debt Collector!Maryone x Gambler!Justin x Casino Owner!Ardee

— ardee's casino owes some debt, and justin hasn't paid his taxes. unlucky for them, a strict debt collector has been assigned to both their cases: maryone dane.

>>> will they end up poorer than before or will they find fortune in another?

stay tuned. stay shipping. and stay marjudeelicious. peace

Gambler!Justin x Casino Owner!Ardee

It all started with a simple bet. A game of chance, probability—it was a gamble that nobody dared to test.

Except for a particular bankrupt casino owner.

Glass buildings stood tall within the dim of the night, the moon rising above the clouds. Cars rushed along the streets, as if guilty for a crime uncommitted, hastily on a getaway to god-knows-where.

In the streets of New York City, the concrete jungle, stood the Aarons Casino. Large neon signs, red carpet, slot machines everywhere; the whole shebang. The place was packed every night until the rise of dawn met the windows, where anyone who was crazy enough to stay for the whole night stumbled out with empty pockets.

The Aarons Casino was a place for the hopeless and the rich, searching for a purpose in a world of opportunity. Though, oftentimes, the lines between the two classes were blurred by a mutual greed.

Ardee Aarons had thought that this cycle of wins and losses were to fuel the casino’s income until he would retire. Keyword: thought.

In a matter of just three years after the highly successful opening of Aarons Casino, customers were leaving, complaining about a particular man that kept participating in card games—and kept winning every time.

The casino owner runs a hand through his hair in irritation, rolling backwards in his office chair. “All the customers are complaining, yet..” he sighs, looking at the CCTV clips. No tricks. Nothing at all. “It's almost like he's just.. lucky.”

His monitor plays the clip over and over again on a loop. The same man. Winning and winning and winning and—

“Damn it.”

It should've been impossible.

The lucky winner, every single damn time: a man with a certain kind of risk to his demeanor, a stiff walk with an uncomfortable amount of confidence for someone with a hunched back. Black-rimmed glasses stood square upon the bridge of his nose, gleaming under the warm lights of the casino.

A man by the name of Justin Coleman.

The Gambler.

From the side of the room, Ardee's secretary leaned against the wall before pushing herself forward with an exasperated huff. She crosses her arms, looking down at her boss seated at the desk with her chin raised.

“Lucky?” Noreen scoffs. “Lucky doesn't even cut it. The man hardly looks at his cards when he plays, and he uses eenie-meenie-miney-moe to pick how much he wants to bet—and that asshole still wins.”

With a shake of his head, he runs his tongue across his dry, nervous lips. “Shit. If he keeps winning, we'll go bankrupt—but we can't just kick him out.”

Kicking the gambler out would mean risking the casino's reputation since Coleman wasn't cheating, but keeping him in would have even worse consequences.

A thick moment of silence envelopes the office, the smell of coffee hinting at the nights gone unslept. Noreen approaches a painting on the wall, hovering her fingers over the dried paint.

Noreen's nails drag against the landscape, her gaze softening as she remembers how this was the first non-monetary prize Ardee had won from a bet.

Her fingers abruptly halt as she turns around to face Ardee. “Why don't you bet against him?” She suggests.

“Another bet,” Ardee raises an eyebrow, “do you hear yourself?”

With a frustrated sigh, Ardee stands from his chair, approaching Noreen. He stands next to her, looking down at her through furrowed brows. Carefully placing a hand on her shoulder, he speaks. “As much as I respect your judgement, Noreen, this is just too much. He already wins enough.”

“And that's exactly why you should challenge him. What, you think a gambler like that isn't going to get off on a casino owner making a bet with him? Whoever wins gets a wish granted. If you win, you can kick him out fairly.” She proposes, shrugging off his hand and jabbing a finger in his face with a smug look.

He leans back in his seat, shaking his head and sighing for the nth time. “Yeah, like that's going to take us out of debt…”

A bet where the loser has to grant the winner’s wish. If Ardee set the odds right, even if it meant bending the rules a little, it wouldn't matter because... well, he's the owner. All he needs to do is get Justin to agree.

The casino owner blinks in realization. Stroking his jaw, he falls into a thoughtful silence. Maybe this would be his way out of the rabbit hole of debt—a chance at salvation.

A chance.

Of course.

His eyes gradually begin to glimmer with satisfaction, the corners of his lips moving upwards. “Oh, that's smart.”

“Why do you question me, again?” His secretary deadpans, facepalming in exasperation. Ardee sheepishly rubs his neck, retreating to his chair and plopping down.

“I'll challenge him an hour after his arrival,” Ardee places his feet on his desk, earning a look of disapproval from Noreen. Nonetheless, he continues. “And that damn gambler will fall right into my hands, and right out of my casino.”

Drifting his attention back to the monitor, the screen displays a crowd immediately rushing out of the building. That could only mean one thing.

Ardee smirks. “Jackpot.”

The crowd hastily parts like the Red Sea, splitting into two waves as a black Rolls-Royce rolls in front of the red carpet entrance of the place. The vehicle comes to a halt.

A chauffeur exits the driver's seat, making their way towards the passenger seat. The chauffeur pauses, hesitant from the expectant gaze of the crowd, then opens the car door, taking a step back.

The atmosphere was charged with anticipation and silence, breaths held in their lungs, frozen in time. A shined black shoe steps out of the vehicle. And then the other.

Within moments, the casino is turned into a lightshow of camera flashes and clicks, the people beginning to shout for the man's attention, pleading for a glance in their direction.

Reporters push against the barricades, bodyguards struggling against the chaos. And yet, the cause of the mayhem nonchalantly steps out of the car, strolling leisurely along the red carpet that led to the revolving doors of the casino.

“Mr. Coleman, how do you do it?” A reporter brings a mic to the man's face, shining with the hunger of the media.

A bodyguard next to Justin pushes the mic away. “He isn't taking questions!”

“A smile to your left, Mr. Coleman!” Someone shouts in the distance, voice quiet amongst the bustle of the crowd.

Another reporter is held back by a different bodyguard, attempting to reach the man. “Mr. Coleman, how do you feel about your overnight wealth?”

People scream his name, calling for his attention in vain, their shouts echoing across the streets. Passerbys stop to watch the havoc in curiosity, the crowd only growing. Mr. Coleman sighs.

He raises his head, turning to the paparazzi. The paparazzi goes quiet, the lightshow of cameras ending. Raising a brow, he tilts his head to the side.

Justin smiles briefly, a picture of finesse compared to the starving reporters that were eager for the latest story. “I’m busy.” He waves his hand lazily, turning back around and entering through the revolving doors.

Behind him, the reporters rush after, but they're held back by the guards.

The gambler adjusts his cuff sleeves, turning his attention to the people he's played against before, greeting him with empty praises and flattery. A particularly boisterous man half his size moves with purpose towards him, face breaking out into a grin.

“Justin, my friend!” Henry approaches him, voice booming yet lacking authority over the room. “You're so famous now, huh? How about sharing some of that with me?”

“.. No.” Justin replies straightforwardly, looking down at Henry's shorter frame with confusion. Shaking his head, he strides past the stunned man easily, making his way to his favourite area—the poker table.

He seats himself at a random table that hasn’t started a match yet, unfazed by the wary glances shot in his direction as he begins to bet. Playing against Coleman was like boarding the Titanic—no matter what you do, the ship is going to sink, just like the numbers in your bank account.

“Yipee,” Justin cheers under his breath after looking at the hole cards he was given, the rest of the players freezing in sheer nervousness. Luck seemed to always be on his side, regardless of whoever was trying to cheat.

The game begins—flopping, folding, calling, betting. Everyone sat stiffly in their seats, trying to read each other. Unlike the others, Justin leans back, as if he didn’t bet his and his grandmother’s entire net worth on this game.

In spite of the bluffs of the players, the cards spoke for themselves. Another royal flush from Justin.

He pulls the pot towards himself in satisfaction with a resonating chuckle, “How about a second round?” the winner suggests with a casual tone, dismissing the fact that he put nine other people in soul-crippling debt. At his question, the players quickly stand from the table.

One woman claims her husband is waiting at home, a man supposes it’s time to take his fish for a walk, and another person leaves the table without an excuse. It was difficult to blame them—after all, there was no chance that they’d win against the Justin Coleman.

As everyone quickly stands up to leave, Justin sighs as he checks his silver Rolex for the time.

As if by fate, the hands hit exactly at 10 PM, marking the start of the next hour. He stretches his arms up, almost tempted to go to a gambling machine instead of remaining at the table, when the buzz of the casino suddenly pauses.

“Huh?” He lifts his head in interest, sensing someone looking. His gaze flickers to a figure standing on the interior balcony.

The figure’s tanned skin gleams under the warm lights of the casino, eyes carefully scanning the ground floor. Finally, they land on Justin.

Aarons leans against the railing as he makes eye contact with Coleman. A smile slowly forms on his face, and he descends. With every step down the flight of stairs, he commands respect. Patrons and staff nod at him with reverence as he passes.

10 PM sharp, just as planned.

Ardee’s eyes remain on Justin, whose gaze doesn’t shy away either. He stops just a few feet before the gambler.

The casino owner looms over the table, smiling down at Justin. “Evening, Mr. Coleman. Enjoying another game of poker? You’ve earned yourself quite the reputation around here, or so I’ve been told. The lucky winner.”

“Thank you, Mr. Aarons. The owner, right?” Justin stands, shaking hands firmly, the touch simultaneously warm and ice cold, devoid of any real familiarity. “It’s a pleasure to meet you in person.”

“Haha... only for you, Mr. Coleman.” Ardee chuckles, his backhanded comment seemingly flying straight over Justin’s head.

Coleman clears his throat, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “So.. you came here to talk to customers?”

“Not just any customer—” he places a hand on Justin’s shoulder with a professional smile— “you. Actually, you’ve been causing quite a few issues here which have been.. concerning the other customers.”

“Oh.” Justin stiffens.

A laugh is elicited from Ardee at his awkward reaction, finding amusement in the other man’s demeanor. “Don’t worry. I don’t hold grudges,” he reassures, causing Justin’s shoulders to relax.

He clears his throat before resuming. “I see the table’s empty. Nobody wants to challenge your throne, hm?” The shorter man gestures to the poker table Justin sat at.

“No, they all just had something to do.” Justin shakes his head.

“How.. convenient.” Ardee trails off with a smirk, musing to himself for a moment. Snapping away from his train of thought, he speaks again. “Well, I can’t be complaining. After all, I’ve been wanting to have some.. one-on-one time with you. I heard your playstyle is quite vigorous.”

“.. I’m straight.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Reganing his temporarily lost composure, Ardee straightens himself with a sigh. “Ahem. What I meant was, would you like to play with me?” The casino owner flashes him a smile.

A casino owner, suddenly offering to play with a VIP—it wasn’t entirely implausible or alien, yet Justin felt as if there was an ulterior motive. One that would set him off his winning streak—not that he was particularly concerned about losing, though.

In skepticism, the man with glasses rubs his neck. “Uh... okay.”

The chair's legs scrape against the intricate carpet floor as they both seat themselves. Heads turn in the direction as people naturally gravitate towards the pair sitting at the table. A croupier takes the cards, nervously glancing at Ardee.

“Well, go on,” Ardee encourages the croupier, gesturing for them to begin shuffling. The croupier nods and begins to shuffle with precision.

Justin adjusts his glasses. “What are we betting?” he asks.

With a smirk, the other man responds. “How about this: whoever has the most chips by the end of the game wins. If I win, you’ll grant me a wish. If you win, I’ll grant you a wish. Deal?”

A hand extends out to Justin. Justin’s eyes flick between the owner’s face and his hand in contemplation. His own hand twitches in excitement, tempted to reach out and eagerly shake on it, but he stops himself.

“If I win…” Justin starts, “let me play against you everyday. One match.”

Ardee’s hand falters slightly. “One match a day? I don't have time for that.”

Justin takes his hand, grabbing it just before it falls. “Then make time.”

Make time.

The words echoed in his head. Simple, straightforward. Like the Ardee Aarons could easily set aside time for a game with the one man killing his golden goose, the casino.

A series of whispers echo around them, overpowering the jazz band playing in the background. The dealer gives the casino owner a hesitant look as they shuffle the cards, purposefully grown nails leaving an indent on a card.

Mr. Aarons looks back at the dealer, nodding at him. Then, he turns to look at Justin again, firmly shaking his hand with newfound confidence. “Alright. I'll take you up on your deal.” He smiles.