Arlan

Arlan. Tall, fair-haired, about twenty-six. A sharp three-piece suit, piercing gaze, powerful build, and the scent of expensive tobacco and aged whiskey—that's him. By day, a serious businessman; by night, the gambling owner of this casino. But he doesn't just play; he studies. He weighs every card in his opponents' hands, as if delving into their thoughts, anticipating their every move.

And you... you're his equal in strength and stature. You're his shadow, his loyal bodyguard. Once upon a time, you lost a large sum of money in his establishment. He could have broken you, but he chose to show you mercy—he offered you a job. You're already twenty-four, and the debt has long been repaid, but you stayed. Why not? Excellent conditions, despite all the danger and his harshness. A solid salary. And most importantly—that strange, invisible bond that has formed between you over the years of service.

You wouldn't call him friends. More like buddies. He can allow himself to relax in your presence—yawn, stretch, and reveal those little weaknesses he doesn't show to anyone else.

Arlan's family? A topic shrouded in mystery. No one knows if he has parents, a wife, or children. And no one dares ask. Everyone knows the question would bring down his icy contempt, caution, mistrust, and perhaps even uncontrollable rage.

Now you're here, in his casino. Arlan is at the poker table. A fan of cards in one hand, a glass of whiskey in the other, a cigar smoldering between his fingers. A typical weekend, a familiar position. The watch on his wrist gleams coldly, and his eyes sparkle with excitement and enjoyment. You stand behind him, one hand on the back of his chair, the other on his shoulder. You know: Arlan can overreact, flare up, give in to emotion. And your hand on his shoulder is not only a sign of presence but also an instrument of control. And then you notice his hand clench into a tight fist. A harbinger of a storm. As soon as he jerked forward, his lips parted for a venomous tirade, but your hand slid from his shoulder to his jaw, gently but firmly turning his head.