NationStates Jolt Archive

"Jah, Dvortski?"

"Would you like should I open the doors?"

Dvortski, the generic underling, was standing in the doorway of the office. The same generic dark office, backlit by only whatever forced its way through the windows overlooking into the generic casino. The dim light though, did a great job at the dramatic silhouetting of the generic overlord.

"Jah, open the doors."

-

"I give you, The Molotov Cocktail Casino!" (http://www.sound-technology.com/Projects/Photos/Crown/crown7.jpg)

For music, I give you a background of 'Sing Sing Sing' by Benny Goodman to play through your head. Remember that Chips Ahoy commercial with those dancing cookie? Jah, that music.

The doors burst open. A contingent of stimulous comparable to that of birth trauma began to bombard the crowd outside the entrance. Loud swing music, bright lights, fast movement. A jazz band began churning out swing music. The swarm of people by the doors flooded through, trampling each other in an attempt to get chips first. High stakes Poker games in dusky back rooms, Craps tables flooded with cash, Roulette wheels dusted in crack, and the mandatory revolver for some Russian Roulette. Seperated throughout twenty open levels. No security whatsoever.

An abundance of cocktail waitressess burst from a door carrying a tray of assorted drinks, one by one, and filtered off into the crowd. Only thing you would find on them were white polo cuffs on their wrists. Yep, only that. A pair went to the entrance, carrying a tray of cards each, and struck a pose. They were to bring the ones with reservations to the back.

Yay for greed!

http://www.sound-technology.com/Projects/Photos/Crown/crown8.jpg

Ooc: Just have fun with it, 'mkay?

Alberto Carosia stood outside the doors of the Molotov Cocktail Casino, furiously rubbing his hands together and breathing into them. He adjusted the hem of his cotton jacket (animal hide was banned in Crsyindom), straightened his slouching posture and fading blue jeans, and strode inside.

Alberto was a thin man, for all the food he ate he never gained a pound. His mop of black hair was slowly turning grey. A boyish grin was hidden by a large nose, one that would match the nose of a gar fish. Deep olive eyes and long eyelashes gave the effect of having feminine orbs.

He checked his wristwatch almost constantly, looking frantically up and down, until finally a figure approached from one of the kitchens in the back. He stumbling widly as the bangling and clanging of pots and pans drew behind him, quieting when the kitchen doors swang shut.

The man, plump and stout (the opposite of Alberto's tall and thin figure), ran a stubby hand through his bush of grey hair, his large, black eyes beaming back and forth across the room. They stopped on Alberto. A wide smile came across the man's bulging lips.

"Carosia!" His voice was booming, rusted by the slightest hoarse. He straightened his tie (he wore a trim black suit fit that snugly around his waist) and ran over, arms outstretched.

"Mr. Lasugillio.." Alberto smiled slightly, hesitantly taking the man in embrace. He squirmed uncomfortably as Lasugillio took his head in his hands, kissing his cheeks jubilantly.

"Please, please, call me Jimmy. Your father was the same, always with the manners. How long has it been, Carosia! Why, the last time I saw you, you were ye high!" He held up his arm to a height about three feet.

Alberto smiled and shrugged.

"It has been a long time. Now, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, yes, come, come. We will discuss matters over a game of Black Jack. Let me order you a drink!"

Lasugillio pushed Alberto forward towards an empty card table, sat him down, and ran off to get him a drink.

"Sta andando essere una notte lunga.."

"There you are.."

A cocktail waitress from the entrance had come over to the seated one. Stark naked coktail waitressess. Can't be bad for business, eh?

"You're expected in the back."

This one was of the Crack-whore variety, a small margin seperating it from the Coke-whore variety. Oiled and shiny she was. Ooo. Shiny Crack-whore. She took him gently by the wrist prying him to stand. She turned on heel and walked away. She stopped on a small bank of steps and turned to the one still standing across the room. She struck a pose on the railing, the most effective way of getting someone to move.

"The other players are expected shortly, you best hurry."

And she walked off up the rest of the stairs, and dissapeared through a door.

Tag...

Tag aswell

Alberto stared after the waitress, about to offer her his coat to cover her body, but as she scuttled away he was not able to. He shrugged, staring around the lobby for Lasugillio, figuring he had reserved the table.

Still

His hand gropped inside the chest pocket of his jacket, feeling for his gun. The handle poking it brought great relief to his person.

He looked around once again for the cheerful face of Lasugillio, then popped out of his seat and staggered up the stairs.