[It wouldn't be the first time his mouth has gotten him into some scenario he could have easily avoided, but he needed to know this guy, get a feel for just what he was made of, and there was no better way to really know a person than to try pissing them off. The suit handled it well, taking the drinks order in his stride as he played it friendly. A little too friendly. The sort of friendly that suggested he might kill Kowalski the second he twitched wrong. But Stanley already knew he was walking into a dangerous situation, that much was obvious by the surrounding mafia and the fact Fraser had managed to get himself into some sort of trouble out here. But what had he gotten himself into?
That's what Ray needed to find out. Screw his own safety. The only self-preservation he needed was enough to help his friend.
As the other settled into the dealer's chair, Stanley straightened, sparing a glance to his table mates and soon realising he was alone in this. So, everyone else knew it was a bad idea to square off against this guy, which must mean he's getting somewhere. Or he's just being stupid. Difficult to know right now.
But he was getting somewhere, because this guy is talking to him, giving him options, laying out rules under the silent threat of it all. Perhaps he found Ray to be a threat, or perhaps he was just toying before the kill, who knew, but Kowalski sure as hell felt infallible right about now on his knight's quest to save the Mountie.
He doesn't answer the first round of questions. Isn't given a chance to as it all becomes apparent it's rhetoric. If he had he'd only avoid the situation more, this way he's not given the chance to squirm his way out of the situation. But he keeps it cool, rests his arms on the table and leans in jut enough to show interest, his attention flickering around the room just enough to try and get a read on all the suits nearby. He was James Bond and this right here was the villain he needed to take down. The movies made it look easy enough. A few quips and he'd have the information he'd needed if it was anything like fiction. He's got this. He's James Bond. James freaking Bond.
James Bond with what could be a really shit hand, but he could make this word. There's no way he's going to hold on an eleven so he jerks his head into a nod.]
I'll take the hit. I win, I get your cash. You win, I tell you what I want. Sure. Hit me.
[He can't lose, that's true enough. He was going to tell this guy why he was here with or without the loss, so an extra thousand in his pocket would just be a bonus.]
no subject
That's what Ray needed to find out. Screw his own safety. The only self-preservation he needed was enough to help his friend.
As the other settled into the dealer's chair, Stanley straightened, sparing a glance to his table mates and soon realising he was alone in this. So, everyone else knew it was a bad idea to square off against this guy, which must mean he's getting somewhere. Or he's just being stupid. Difficult to know right now.
But he was getting somewhere, because this guy is talking to him, giving him options, laying out rules under the silent threat of it all. Perhaps he found Ray to be a threat, or perhaps he was just toying before the kill, who knew, but Kowalski sure as hell felt infallible right about now on his knight's quest to save the Mountie.
He doesn't answer the first round of questions. Isn't given a chance to as it all becomes apparent it's rhetoric. If he had he'd only avoid the situation more, this way he's not given the chance to squirm his way out of the situation. But he keeps it cool, rests his arms on the table and leans in jut enough to show interest, his attention flickering around the room just enough to try and get a read on all the suits nearby. He was James Bond and this right here was the villain he needed to take down. The movies made it look easy enough. A few quips and he'd have the information he'd needed if it was anything like fiction. He's got this. He's James Bond. James freaking Bond.
James Bond with what could be a really shit hand, but he could make this word. There's no way he's going to hold on an eleven so he jerks his head into a nod.]
I'll take the hit. I win, I get your cash. You win, I tell you what I want. Sure. Hit me.
[He can't lose, that's true enough. He was going to tell this guy why he was here with or without the loss, so an extra thousand in his pocket would just be a bonus.]