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The ticking of a roulette wheel. The rattle of poker chips. The tinkling of cocktail glasses. The wafting odor of cigars. The susurrus of conversations: bets and prayers, observations and amusements. The Ocean Floor prided itself on its reputation as one of the last holdouts of old Glam Gas: classy, discreet, intimate. The casino of choice for those who preferred a touch of glamor, gold and paneled mahogany instead of neon and chrome.
"What do you think, honey?" Pakunoda's fingers trailed against his back, delicate whispers of sensation. "How about that roulette table next?"
Chrollo swallowed hard. "Of course, sweetheart," he murmured, hand on her waist just so. High enough to be respectful, low enough to signify deep intimacy. "Anywhere you suggest."
He needed to be sharp, eyes and ears attuned to every last minutiae of the scene surrounding them, but it was pretty damn hard to concentrate with Paku cuddling up to him like this.
The Phantom Troupe’s next heist was going to be the largest and most complex casino robbery in all of Glam Gas's history; robbing four casinos in one night, with a 20 billion jenny payoff. They'd planted the seeds earlier last year, when Hisoka had agreed to participate in a prizefight against an up-and-coming martial artist who'd dazzled the sports world with his fierce and brilliant techniques. Eager to see what was being billed as "the match of the year," thousands of tourists would be flocking to Glam Glam City to watch...and bet their cold, hard cash in the hopes of making even more of it. The casinos would be flooded with gamblers, and the casino owners would be stocking up on enough cash to match their bets. And the Phantom Troupe, naturally, would be right there to snatch every last jenny.
Obviously, extensive reconnaissance was needed for such an elaborate affair, so the Troupe had split up to tackle different aspects of inspecting the first casino. Chrollo and Pakunoda were tasked with observing the casino floor: the rotation of the dealers, the movement of the guards, the typical ebb and flow of guests, and so on. They were playing the part of a married couple, just arrived in town for a fun, romantic getaway. Chrollo was a consummate actor, and stepping into a role was as easy as breathing for him. It was his job; he was a professional in all aspects, so of course he’d handle it with the aplomb it deserved.
Paku, however, was really into it. She’d thrown herself into her role with an eagerness he’d last seen when they were children dubbing Power Cleaners. The role of a glamorous society wife suited her to a tee; she was practically born to wear mink and diamonds. But it wasn’t just the glamor that she had gleefully taken to…Paku had also taken the wife aspect of her role pretty seriously. Pretty… affectionately, one could say.
He guided her over to the chosen table, keeping the corner of his eyes focused on the dealer ending their shift at the nearby blackjack table. Or at least, he tried to. The scent of her perfume and the warmth of her body next to his subtly tugged at his attention, and as he pulled out the chair for her and she gracefully sank into it, the silken strands of her hair brushed past his face.
The roulette dealer greeted them, cooing over what a sweet couple they made as Chrollo helped Paku settle her stole and clutch.
“He takes such good care of me,” Paku purred, fluttering her eyelashes at Chrollo. Her gaze smoldered, the liquid brown of her eyes molten hot.
Chrollo's mind filled in the blanks of just how he'd like to take care of her before he forced himself back to the task at hand. This wasn’t the time or the place, no matter how badly he was tempted. His gaze swept the room as he waited for the next game to begin. Nothing escaped his notice: the guard at the north door who was paying more attention to the cocktail waitresses than his post, the cash cart covertly disguised as a meal trolley, the malfunctioning slot machine two feet away from the cashier’s cage....every detail filed away for later. The casino was a complex organism, and he was the scientist observing each function in order to exploit it for riches and fame.
Ah, there was Shalnark; disguised as a technician, he was weaving his way through the crowd towards the entrance to the employees-only area. Chrollo’s gaze flickered to his Rolex, and in two seconds, loud and angry bickering broke out from somewhere to his seven. Nobunaga and Phinks, right on time, drawing the attention of the security guards so Shalnark could get into the employee entrance easily. Perfect.
“Darling, the next game’s starting. The dealer’s waiting for your bet.” Her lips against his ear, breath teasing hot. Chrollo practically leaped out of his skin. Shit. Was he losing his touch?
Her fingers stroked along his and he involuntarily shivered.
“You’re not admiring one of those little cocktail waitresses, are you? What do I need to do to secure your attention?” Paku’s eyebrows arched as she smirked at him.
“My apologies,” Chrollo told her as he clasped her hand. “Those men just distracted me for a moment, that’s all. Not the sort of thing you’d expect at The Ocean Floor. You’re the only one I have eyes for, sweetheart.”
He had to stop himself from fiddling with the gold band, so unfamiliar on his finger. Acting the part of a dashing ladies' man for his jobs was one thing, but a doting and devoted husband was another. Especially when it was her.
As a boy, he’d nurtured a crush on Paku that he’d never grown out of. More than a crush, now, but he held himself back from giving the feelings their true name. She deserves so much better than I can give her. And yet she continues to pour endlessly from her cup, heedless of the impact to herself. And coward that I am, I hold my empty glass out, drink it dry, and wait eagerly for the next drop.
He’d told himself that a head couldn’t favor one leg above the others. He’d told himself that being honest with her—and with himself—would only lead to grief in the end. He’d told himself that it was better to ignore it all, continue on as they always had, and hope that she would eventually receive what she deserved.
He was a liar.
Unwilling to speak, but clinging to a desperate hope. Pathetic. Beyond pathetic.
“Haven’t been married long, have you?” The man seated to Chrollo’s left chuckled.
“Oh no, we’ve been together th-three! Years,” Chrollo yelped, trying to keep his composure. Her hand was on his thigh, warm and soft. A firm squeeze, fingers assessing the muscle hidden beneath the tuxedo pants.
Paku draped herself onto his arm, almost leaning across his torso. “Three glorious years of marriage, although we’ve known each other far, far longer than that.”
Her breasts pressed fully against his arm, and he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. The audacious little smirk teasing at her lips, the sultry gleam of her eyes— The little minx, she's doing this on purpose.
It took every ounce, every scrap, of self-discipline to make it through the game; attention split between observing the goings-on, deciphering how this table’s roulette wheel was set up, and doting on his ‘wife.’ (Or rather, forcing himself to act as though her alluring, lazy smiles and soft caresses were simply an everyday occurrence rather than a secret dream fulfilled.) He bet 100,000 jenny, lost, and bet again only to face a second loss. Paku sipped carefully from a succession of martinis (her liquor tolerance was astounding, on par with Uvo’s) and chatted gaily with the dealer and other gamblers as she staked out the bar, watching the mixologists’ movements and interactions with the customers.
Good, we’re on our game. We’ll be done soon— Chrollo gave into a full-body shiver as Paku’s fingers trailed down his spine. Fortuitously, the roulette wheel came to a stop just as he swung to look at her. Paku winked audaciously and casually turned away to face the roulette wheel.
“Thirteen,” the dealer announced. “Congratulations, sir. Your payout has quintupled.”
“I promised my wife I’d win big,” Chrollo laughed, “so I’m glad I can leave the table so early with my head held high.”
As the dealer began to sweep away the chips and make the payouts, the man to Chrollo’s left congratulated him. Paku brushed her lips against his cheek in a congratulatory kiss. “I got a text from Shal,” she murmured into his ear. “We’re done.”
His phone then beeped; Shal had finished his task in the server room and was headed back to the hideout. Phinks and Nobu had finished earlier and were nowhere to be seen. Just the two of them now.
With a bright smile, Chrollo collected his chips and helped his ‘wife’ get herself situated before leading her into a darkened corner near the bar. Paku whipped out her phone and began texting a reply to Shal. Ever the gentleman, Chrollo waited patiently until she was finished.
“This is incredibly distracting,” Chrollo murmured. “When we hit the Royale later, could you perhaps…” He trailed off. ‘Pretend you care for me less so I can concentrate on my job’ was what he should tell her. ‘Don’t stop, let me bask in the fantasy a little longer’ was what he wanted to say. “Perhaps a different set of mannerisms,” he forced himself to say, “would be more suitable? It isn’t that I’m uncomfortable with them, only that it’s a bit hard to concentrate with your…er…affections.”
“But I’m your wife,” Paku said, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “I should act the part, shouldn’t I? After all,” she moved closer, “it’s been a long time coming. And who knows when I’ll have the chance again,” she whispered against his lips, “to do what I want to you.”
The breath caught in Chrollo’s throat.
"Why don't we go upstairs to our room?" Pakunoda murmured. "After all, if we're a married couple, we might as well act like it. Even if it’s just for this job, would you let me pretend? Let me have this one night?” She brought her hand up to caress his face, fingers carefully stroking along its curves and planes. The allure in her gaze was gone, replaced with naked longing, aching desire.
Not an act. None of it was an act. She…this… Chrollo could feel his heart pound against his chest, every nerve alight with excitement. Did he have the nerve to respond as he longed to? Did he dare? Could he bring himself to lie to her once more?
Or maybe it’s time to be as honest and selfish as I dare.
His hand, bringing hers to his lips. Knuckles softly brushing against his skin, sweetness he didn’t know he had. Time to face himself, to pour into her cup until it overflowed.
“Let me show you what I've got...and maybe you'll keep me for real, hmm?"