#omnia.open

status: open to any — feel free to assume pre-established relationship or go off vibes.

"if you're coming to ask me to join you in a game of god knows what, please hold your breath and save it for another," sky spoke, lifting her wine glass to take another sip as she gave an equal shake of her head; refusal already waiting before the question and answer had been given. for as much as she enjoyed a night out, gambling had never, and never would be, one of her past times. "offer me anything other than creative ways to lose my money, and perhaps my answer will change," her head tilted in thought, "another drink wouldn't go amiss. or a compelling reason as to why i should stay any longer than i already have." that last part sky was rather sure was because there was still something strangely fascinating about watching everyone gathered together at once, in one place. watching the personalities that clashed under the veneer of what was promised to be a pleasant evening. a lingering curiosity remained even over if someone would eventually become foolish enough to turn the night towards violence as it so often did.

The Lucky Coyote was one of the few places in the city where people could pretend the gangs weren't constantly one bad decision away from tearing each other apart. The illusion was almost impressive. Cards shuffled. Glasses clinked. Slot machines chimed endlessly in the background. People laughed. Money changed hands. And beneath it all sat an unspoken understanding that everybody in the building was armed, dangerous, and behaving only because the consequences of not behaving were significantly worse. Mia liked it. Or maybe liked wasn't the right word. Respected it, perhaps.

The mechanic sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a whiskey she'd barely touched. One elbow rested against the polished countertop while her attention drifted across the casino floor. Old habit. People-watching. Keeping track of exits. Noticing who arrived together and who pretended they hadn't. The place was full tonight. Representatives from every corner of the city. Enough tension packed into one room to start a war if somebody sneezed wrong. Mia found herself smirking. The whiskey burned pleasantly as she finally took a sip. The seat beside her scraped softly against the floor. She didn't look up. Not immediately. "You're either brave," she said finally, swirling the amber liquid in her glass, "or you've never been told it's rude to stare."

featuring: billy & your muse !

Neutral ground was a myth people told themselves to feel safe. The Lucky Coyote Casino had built its reputation on the concept.

The casino floor hummed with life around him. Slot machines chimed endlessly. Chips clicked against felt. Laughter rose and fell in waves, mixing with the low murmur of conversations happening at a dozen different tables. Above it all hung the unmistakable scent of expensive liquor and old money. Most people came here to gamble. Kian came here to observe.

From his seat at the bar overlooking a large portion of the gaming floor, he watched the crowd through the reflection in his glass rather than directly. Years of habit had taught him that people revealed more when they believed nobody was paying attention. The clear liquid in his glass remained untouched as he mentally catalogued faces, movements, and interactions. Not because he needed to. Because he couldn't help himself.

Then something shifted. Not on the casino floor. In his attention. A familiar feeling settled at the back of his mind. The kind that came before certainty. Then, after a moment, he finally spoke. "You're either very good at pretending not to notice people watching you," he said evenly, gaze settling on them once more, "or you've already decided I'm not a threat."

open to three . This is premeditated, the sidelong glances and the motive to trail after the poor soul who had thought it was a fucking field day on the cards table. See, there were people who wanted to play it smart, and then there were those who made their reputation in the aftermath of it all. Tones would come to know these ones like choking weeds; the kind that snarls and grows into your space faster than you can say 'god bless you'. He pushes in behind him, using the brunt of his forearm to push him off balance onto the ceramic of the toilet. There's a string of swears, a few 'hey, man, it was just a game!' These were the types who were all big and bad in company, but the minute they gotta face the heat? 'There's a rule in place tonight!' The bathroom stall dividers rattle with impact, and the slick sound of knuckle against cheek fill the air. " This is why we can't ever have nice things, now, " the man slumps onto the toilet and Tones foot meets chest. " None of you know a damn about acting civilized, " the protest stops, and he knows well enough to reach into his pockets to take his winnings back. " Peace? " A slight chuff as he makes sure the guy isn't dead, just knocked around and passed out like another drunk who had a fun night out at tonight's peace party.

Tony straightens, smoothing down his outfit and rubbing his knuckles clean from all the mess he made onto the front of the poor guys shirt. Head cants, and he walks out. All sunshine and feeling lighter than he did before. " Oh, don't mind me, was just taking care of some lightweight. Far as you and I are concerned, that stall? Out of order. "

Viktor feels like he’s been schmoozing forever. Dragged like a leopard on a leash from group to group to group until he feels like his brain is melting out of his ears from how boring all this small talk was. Surely nothing was that important that it had to be sardonically defended at a casino. There were people being actively brainwashed on slot machines as they spoke for crying out loud. Viktor swears that if he has to fake laugh at another subpar gang related pun, he’s going to start walking into the desert and never fucking stop.

He excuses himself from the suffocatingly leery crowd of old men and makes a B-line for the closest bar and weasels his way in between a set of bodies to order a drink. The lights above the countertop strobe down in neon red and blues and Viktor drums his fingers impatiently on the countertop, a scotch order already barked into the face of a bar tender who was definitely not getting paid enough to take his shit.

“Well well-” he muses out loud, having twisted away from the bartop with a new tumbler in hand to linger somewhere close to a haphazardly thrown together buffet table. “-they really do just let anyone into these things, don’t they?” Those too bright blue eyes flicker pointedly down and up the other person, and when Viktor smiles in that chagrin sort of way that he was known for, its only ever so slightly mockingly.

status: open 0/3

it was difficult to tell whether it was truly a smile or merely the shape his the expression that had settled upon maddox as he emerged from the darkness of an alley adjoining the casino; lively as ever within and haunting quiet out with. but a quiet hum drifted from under his breath as he wiped a crimson stain from his hands with a handkerchief retrieved from the inner pocket of his jacket, completely methodical in the task as he worked carefully at his knuckles and beneath his nails before folding the cloth away once more. the night air filled his lungs. not quite fresh, and certainly not as peaceful as it pretended for now.

then his attention shifted with darkened eyes settling upon the newcomer who had stepped into view just moments ago, and for a moment he simply regarded them before speaking. "if your intention is to enter the alley, do mind the mess." his tone was conversational, almost courteous, even, "and try not to trip over the lump resting there."

his gaze flicked briefly back towards the now shadowed form that remained discarded further within before returning to the other. "he had a little too much to drink." a pause following his explanation, deliberate and unhurried. "and, well.. loose lips on nights such as this can be rather inconsiderate of everyone else."

𝔣𝔱. anyone !! capped 1/3

The Lucky Coyote felt different tonight.

Not because of the decorations, the expensive liquor flowing like water, or the fact that every gang in Coyote's Rest had somehow agreed to occupy the same building without immediately trying to kill one another. No, it was the tension that made the air feel heavier. The kind that settled beneath the laughter and music like a second heartbeat.

Taz liked tension. Tension made people predictable.

Leaning against the polished wood of the casino bar, a glass of bourbon balanced loosely between his fingers, he watched the room with the easy attention of someone who appeared completely relaxed while noticing everything. Familiar faces drifted through the crowd alongside strangers he hadn't learned yet. Old rivals shared tables. Alliances were being tested. Friendships were being repaired or ruined over drinks. Somewhere, someone was probably already violating at least three of the casino's carefully laid-out rules.

The anniversary celebration was supposed to be about unity. Fifty years of peace—or at least the closest thing Coyote's Rest ever got to it.

Taz wasn't cynical enough to think that meant nothing. He just wasn't naïve enough to think it meant everything either.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he took a sip from his glass. Around him, slot machines chimed, cards slapped against felt, and conversations rose and fell in waves. For one night, everyone was expected to play nice. Which, in his experience, usually made things far more interesting. His gaze drifted toward the nearest open seat before settling on whoever happened to be lingering nearby. "Tell me," he said casually, gesturing vaguely toward the crowd with his glass, "is it just me, or does this feel less like a celebration and more like everyone's waiting for somebody to do something stupid?" The smile that followed was easy and familiar. "Not that I'm complaining. Stupid people are usually how I make my money." He lifts his glass slightly in invitation. "So. What's your poison tonight? Gambling, drinking, people-watching, or are you one of those terrifying individuals actually here for the speeches?"