Jack Sabbit, the Sabbit
Gotta take what you can while you got the chance.
Gotta take what you can while you got the chance.
The dank mustiness of the club was very much overwhelmed by the blaring music, the stench of smoke, and the assault of flashing lights in the darkness. It was rare to see one of the underground clubs in the Slums so crowded, but Jack supposed that tonight had been a good night for the Underbet Cavern.
This place was almost always noisy and though Sabbit very much disliked the thrum of the bass making his eardrums ring, this was one of the best places to do general business. Leaders of the Underbet often invited him here to do special little jobs, like running extra bets under the tables and helping change the odds in the little ways that only those as charming as he could.
Pale fingers ran through a red and black mane of hair, the fringe ruffling over his eyebrows as he sighed out a small puff of air. His eyes skimmed the dance floor, trying not to waste his time as he waited for the rep from the Cavern to show up this time.
That man took forever.
Mirrors decorated the walls, making the club look larger and more crowded that it should. Someone had once told him it was a ploy on the subconscious that tended to lean towards people making riskier, higher, bets.
His black duster was laid against the seat beside him, his white button down shirt making him look more official than he really felt. He could see the black spade adorning his cheek in the mirror, red eyes gazing back at him as though bored.
He supposed they weren't lying.
He cast his gaze back onto the floor, eyes wandering in the hopes of at least finding a little entertainment while he waited.