It seems that Adam will play along, at least for now. Jason lowers his eyes as the dealer shuffles, equal parts disingenuous and demure. Their byplay does not entirely escape the other players. A semi-retired con and an amateur part-timer who appear to recognize each other are not desirable players in any card game, but neither of them are recognizable as such yet.

"Friend of yours?" The woman with the ornate cigarette holder inquires. The holder is a playful affectation she uses as a prop for misdirection.

"We were a band together for one night," Jason says blandly, faux-nostalgic. "Post-industrial bagpipe punk."