Ace (HS)

Sin

His hand lingered over the crystalline rim of the wine glass. It was his favorite- Pinot Noir. The crimson liquid, easily mistaken for freshly spilled blood, rippled as the loud music sounded through the club. A sly smirk, as quiet and unnoticeable as a minx, slithered onto his rosy lips. His entire demeanor, from the straight and broad pull of his shoulders to the way his thick brows sat in a straight line over his emerald eyes, suggested nothing towards the cards in his hand. He was adorning a neutral mask, showing no emotion as the men around him, clad in mimick designer suits, struggled to keep their expressions in line as they glanced nervously around the pool table, desperate for a way out of losing the money they had so foolishly played. The only sign of emotion was the small smirk, painted ever so faintly on his strong features, so discrete that none of the others could catch it under their anxious gazes.

Styles' long digits, lean and crafty, wrapped around the chilled wine glass, bringing the crisp beverage to his lips. He eyed the faces around him. They were familiar, as he had asked Crook for their names and backgrounds the moment that they decided to play a game of poker with the one man no intelligent being would dare to challenge. The man to his left he recognized to be James Keller. By his brown hair gelled back, and the cheap material of his vest that was a dark blue, he could tell that Keller was sitting with men way out of his league. At this knowledge, the small smirk threatened to grow and reveal his secret, but with another sip of his Pinot Noir, the threat was obliterated.

His gaze then shifted to the dealer in front of him. Crook. The name was fitting, ironically. With his hard features, the still set of his strong jaw, and the dull gleam in his chromatic eyes; no one would suspect the tactful movements that his hands made under the table. While Keller's gaze was on his hand of cards, probably desperate for them to magically turn into a full house, and the other players had their eyes momentarily off of the two men they should have been watching, Crook's left eye fell into a wink. It was so simple and quick, that if anyone had seen it they might have assumed it had no significance. But it did. That wink had been noticed by one man, the very man sitting across from him. Styles had seen it so many times before, always prior to his unexplainable victory. The events following the discrete wink given to him by his partner in crime, went along the lines of Styles setting his cards flat down on the soft green of the pool table- a beautiful hand of cards that seemed too lucky for even a man like Mr. Harry Styles. The men around him would widen their eyes, before an anger, fueled by their defeat, would burn within their wine-filled bellies.

It was all so rehearsed, to the point of perfection. Their simple act of sin had been smoothed and refined over the years, so that now not even the most skilled players could find a break in it. To them, it appeared simply that Harry Styles was an unnaturally blessed man, with his undying luck that ranged from poker to women and onward. But what seemed to most as unbielevable luck at gambling, was actually not luck at all. It was, utterly and completely, cheating.

It all fell seamlessly then on. The cards were showed. The fists were clenched. The money was won, or stolen more of. It was a sequence of events that was so familiar to Styles that it almost bored him. He felt his shoulders, which had been standing so strongly, slump. He ran a hand through his mane of hair, scratched mindlessly at his jaw, and grabbed his wine glass once more. The velvety rich drink exploited his taste buds, and for a moment he forgot that he had just won thousands of pounds.

His bored trance was broken when a drunken growl erupted from the man beside him. Styles' emerald eyes snapped to Keller, whose face was red with fury and intoxication.

"You're a cheat, Styles," Keller growled. The other players, who had been just as disheartened by their loss, watched in silence. They knew better than to speak out of the suspicious win. James Keller, however, was not as educated in the matter.