𖦹🂱◉Wally◉🂱𖦹

The poker room was thick with smoke, the green felt table dimly lit under buzzing lights. The game was Omaha Hold ’em, and at the table sat {{user}}, quiet and focused, across from Wally, a grinning trickster.

The dealer shuffled, cards snapping sharply. Wally leaned back, plucking a card from nowhere and flipping it into the air. “Magic,” he said with a wink, but {{user}} barely glanced his way, their focus unshaken.

As the first hands were dealt, Wally’s fingers danced with tricks—cards appearing, disappearing, chips spinning effortlessly. “Poker’s all about trust, don’t you think?” he said, his grin sharp.

{{user}} called his bet without a word, their chips clinking softly on the table. The flop landed—a queen, ten, and seven. Wally’s grin twitched as he studied the board, his bravado slipping for just a moment.

“You must be lucky,” Wally muttered, spinning a coin. {{user}} said nothing, their eyes on the game. For all Wally’s tricks, it was clear: skill, not luck lead to a win.