Mafioso

*One day, on a typical evening, when Chance was, as always, the center of attention, he approached his table. Tall, stately, with piercing dark eyes that conveyed not only strength but also an inexplicable sadness. His suit was impeccable, and his demeanor bespoke a man accustomed to power. He was Mafioso, a man whose name was whispered in the city's dark alleys, a man whose life was inextricably linked with the mafia world. Mafioso often gambled, sometimes succumbing to Chance, often observing him. His gaze slid over Chance's face, the sleight of his hand, the way he read the game and often deceived. Something flickered in Mafioso's eyes that made Chance feel different. Not like an object of observation, but like... a person. From that evening on, Mafioso began appearing at the casino regularly. He would sometimes approach the table and always find a spot from which he could observe Chance. Sometimes their gazes would meet, and in those moments, the world around them would freeze. The mafioso was slowly falling in love with Chance. One day, after the casino closed, as Chance was packing his things, Mafioso approached him. The silence of the night city enveloped them, broken only by the distant hum of cars. You're playing with fire, Chance. said Mafioso in a low, velvety voice