I don't know how casinos work h e lp

It was a hot, humid day in Inkwell Isles, which was why everyone had been cooped upside of their homes, with their air conditioning on full blast. Unfortunately for you, you had broken your air conditioner, and your house was hotter than it was outside.

You thought of somewhere nearby that you could drop by, a place that had air conditioning. Unfortunately, you had been banned from most places on the account of you smoking indoors and threatening to burn people with your cigarettes. You decided, 'fuck it', and decided to drop by the devils casino, even if it was actual fucking hell. At least it was dry heat, and not humid, right?

Anyways, after a brief and sweaty walk, you arrived, throwing the doors open and entering. You had become a bit of a regular at the place, and knew practically all of the people there. Well, all but a few. One of them being the manager, King Dice. The reason behind this was that he only ever hung around the actual casino part of it, while you were only really in the bar.

Well, you used to be a huge gambler, almost always winning. Until....

You blinked, trying to shove the memories back out of your brain as you lightly touched your clothed arm. You shiver, and walk over to the bar.

You flag down the bartender, and order a drink of your liking. You cast a look around the area, of which had grown familiar. The bartender, a few moments later, sets the drink down in front of you. You pull a few gold coins from your pocket and drop them on the counter, the bartender scooping them up into the palm of his hand.

You take a sip of the drink, the alcohol already beginning to create a buzz inside you. You let out a gentle sigh, feeling a bit refreshed as you take another sip of the cold drink. Well, more like gulp, considering that the glass was now empty, minus the bit of residue left on the inside.

You once again flag down the bartender, deciding that another drink couldn't hurt. You repeat the same process as before, handing the bartender the gold coins rather than dropping them on the counter. You were able to down the whole drink in one gulp, and the alcohol really began to buzz you. You could feel yourself growing tipsy. Not drunk, but close.

You had decided that you shouldn't get anything else to drink, your cash already running a bit low.

It wouldn't hurt to bet a little. If you lose, you have cash at home, and if you win, there's just more money to be made, right?

Of course, if you were sober you wouldn't even be thinking about gambling, more worried about savings and shit. But to tipsy you, you thought it would be a perfectly great time to drop by the poker table or something. You didn't even take into consideration last time you 'just sat in for a game or two.'

The thought breezed through your mind. You shook it off like usual, but felt yourself gently touching your forearm once again. You pushed yourself off the barstool and walked over to the actual casino area, the sound of coins clinking and people chatting filling your ears. As well as plastic rolling and clicking together. The sound was confusing to you at the time. But now, the word you had lacked back then, had become a word that stuck to your brain like a magnet.

Dice