Mr. Gold was not a gambling man. Mind, if you told anyone this, they would laugh at you in the face. The pawnbroker was not an unfamiliar face at the stables, where he would spend a balmy Sunday morning studying horses and riders for the race, and it was rumoured that he occasionally joins in on the high stakes poker game at Albert Spencer's home on Tuesday nights.
But the truth is, Mr. Gold is not a gambling man. He never places a bet on something that's not sure (and it is a fact that his horses never lose), and his ability to read people is something he prides himself on. He never openly admits to partaking in the poker game that, officially, doesn't happen. Because there are a number of officials that cycle in and out of these games that are not supposed to be seeing each other socially for the sakes of their jobs.
But when Regina's there, he just can't help himself.
"Pass us those," he says, gesturing to the bowl of crisps. The Mayor glares at him, and decidedly doesn't move. He takes the cigar from his mouth, eyes glittering, and adds, "Please."
Her eyes narrow, but she does as she's told. The judge beside her dutifully passes on the bowl, and the ever-sharp-dressed Scot helps himself to a couple. A cigar cutter is making the rounds as well, and soon he is puffing quite happily, the warm, spicy smoke tickling at the back of his throat. Scotch and wine is poured, as everyone settles in for the evening.
"The game is five-card draw, to start," Spencer is saying, as he shuffles the cards. Regina has already started to eye Gold. He amuses himself with a couple smoke rings, leaning back in the dark oak chair. The Evil Queen, King George, Midas, and a couple other higher up Lords, tonight. They're playing a royal deck, which always tickles him so. But watching Her Majesty squirm is the best.
They start with a draw, to see whose luck is bad.
"Ante up," Spencer says, dropping his brick in the center of the table. All around, cash is pulled out and deposited. The rest of the game is for chips, but the cash reminds you the kind of people you're dealing with. Gold can look around and see who's nervous, and who brought their money with them. The cards go out, and Gold drags on his cigar, watching the faces. The judge to his left gives a soft sigh, and an unspoken prayer is heard. Midas is confident, but George is apathetic – he has a good poker face. Regina is wearing her 'oh, I'm definitely going to win' face. The one that means a mediocre hand, at best.
Mr. Gold checks his hand. But he doesn't change his expression. He debates putting on a pleased face, but no one would believe it.
"Start your bidding," dealer says. The lord beside him checks, growling. Bad start to the night. Spencer spares him a long-ish look, but says nothing. Midas sets the bidding at a low number. Gold blinks at his cards, as if they were a fine piece of art that he was pricing for a sale. They know better than to rush him.
"I raise," Gold says, setting a nicer stack of chips before him. Regina curses, and the Judge between them is starting to bead sweat. The pawnbroker looks to him curiously, waiting for the fold.
He's giving it hard thought. Lips pursed, he instead calls. Gold notes it. Regina calls it, and the cards are back to the King.
He feigns disinterest, looking around at them all, then calls. The lord beside him sighs, and folds.
Oh, this is going to be fun, Gold thinks to himself, with that wicked giggle ringing in his head. He manages to smother it in a sip of scotch.
A round of discards, and the Judge holds strong. George raises at the last second, and then the showdown.
The folded Lord almost had a straight. Spencer wins with four of a kind. Gold and had a full house, Regina three of a kind. The Judge had two pair. Midas tosses a single pair, smiling kindly.
Midas is bluffing. And so is the Judge.
They keep at the five-card draw for another half hour, by which point the game has become secondary to the conversation.
"I was thinking of inviting Hopper to one of these things," the King was saying, cigar sticking out one side. "Perhaps his shrink work will translate into an interesting poker game."
"That might actually be interesting," Gold agreed. "Just make sure he brings the glasses." He taps a finger to his temple, and the table chuckles. All but for Regina. She is watching Gold like a hawk, trying to anticipate his cards.
"Raise," she ventures, adding to the pile.
"Bit ambitious tonight, Madame Mayor?" Midas jests.
She shrugged. "My luck will turn around."
"Maybe if you stopped raising," the Scotsman answered, scotch glass in front of his lips.
George gave Gold a dangerous smile. "What about you, Mr. Gold? Not winning many hands tonight."
Gold shrugged. "Oh, I'm not playing for the money." He just likes tripping up Regina. Even high stakes poker is petty cash, for him.
The lord – another lawyer, this one for malpractise cases – snorts. "Now I know that's a lie."
"Bluff," he corrects, pointing a long, jeweled finger. "You never know the truth until showdown, anyway. And by then... Things can always change." He gave his best winning grin. "Yeah?"
George grunted. "Whatever you say, Gold."
Another round of discards and bets, and the showdown comes. This time, it's Gold that takes the pot.
"Straight flush, ladies and gents," he announces, smiling. Regina curses, and George chuckles.
"Gold, are you counting my deck?"
"Nonsense," he replied, feigning offense. "Everyone knows this thing is a cold deck. That's why I sit here," he explained, tapping a long, jeweled finger on the table.
Midas laughed. George gave him a half-hearted glare and a dangerous smile. "Gold, if you keep on sharing my secrets with everyone, I'm just going to have to cut the deck differently next time." He gestured to the Mayor. "Maybe let Regina win, just to spin you up."
She didn't have to act offended – it was genuine. "Excuse you!"
"Careful, dearie," Gold warned. "I may have the pot, but she can get you fired."
That's right, I can! her eyes screamed. George just turned the smile to her.
"I meant no offense, Madame Mayor," he replied. "Perhaps next round."
"Oh, I fold," Gold uttered, monotone. The Judge snorted and the other lawyer sniggered.
"Heheheh... I love you two," Midas chuckled.
Regina gave him eyes of hatred. Gold's own expression was full of mischief.
And then a dangerous thought popped into her head. He could tell, because her eyes glittered, and her lips curled in that deliciously evil way he had taught her. She'd started to particularly enjoy making that face at him, and it never ended well. "How about a wager?"
"Well, it is poker," Gold replied, with forced patience.
"Use your chips, Regina," George chuckled.
But Regina's eyes were still on Gold. He met them with quiet determination, knowing she meant something else. "No... Something else."
Gold carefully put his glass of scotch on the table. He took his time in looking back to her, and put on his most longsuffering face. "What is it, Regina?"
She leaned forward on the table, her black suit and porcelain skin popping with the blood red of her lips. She took too well to black and red. "Blackjack. You and me. Real quick."
She didn't even look back at George. Rumplestiltskin didn't have to look, but he knew the King was listening. Part of it was the Curse, and the fact that, yes, he owed his job to the Mayor.
"I don't know, Regina," Gold answered. "I thought we were doing poker."
A brow twitched. "Scared?"
That was the chord to strike. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "Not of you."
"Then prove it," she sing-songed. She held out a hand to George, and he blindly obeyed, handing her the deck. "Blackjack, you and me. Right here and now."
He tried to let out a sigh, tapping his fingers on the table to display is displeasure. "What are the stakes, then?"
"Let's say... The hospital."
He about guffawed. "The hospital?"
"Sell it to the city," she said. "Make it a public place."
Gold turned to the doctor's-lawyer-lord. "Is business that good?"
The lawyer grinned, cheeky. "It really is good, sir."
The judge's eyes bounced between them, very much uncomfortable with being in the middle of this.
"Alright, that's what's in it for you," he said, settling back in his chair. "What's in it for me?"
Her eyes glittered. "You get to find out what's in it for me." And then she gave him that grin – the one that said she did have a winning hand. Something like a straight or higher.
That gave him pause. "...The hospital, you say?"
She nodded. "Effective immediately."
He wrinkled his nose at her. "You know as well as I do how long that paperwork takes to sort out."
She shrugged. "I don't care. I want it."
...Something wasn't right. Gold's eyes narrowed at her. Something was amiss. Something he was not aware of. And he didn't like it one bit.
Because Gold was not a gambling man. He called and raised and folded according to the signs he saw about them. Don't throw good money after the bad, bluffs only work if you fold. Make sure your money was where your mouth was, and know where everyone's hands are. The ebb and flow of cash weren't an issue – five bad hands could be fixed by one good one, and it was a matter of judicious business investment. The real prize here was learning to read the players, both here and for later.
And if there's one thing he knew, it was that Regina was dangerous when she was determined to do things her own way.
So he nodded, one sharp motion. "Very well."
Regina shuffled the deck, and let out a purr that might have made him shiver with delicious anticipation, once upon a time. Now, it just made him cold and hard. She dealt each of them a card, face down, and then up.
He had a ten. She had a queen.
He did his best to fight the urge to lick his lips. Maskwork, very important. He kept his face neutral, as he tipped up the card. A five. 15. He could hit, hope for low and stay safe. Or he could stay, hoping she would bust. If he hit too high... He was forfeit.
He tried not to bite, either, and, looked to her with lidded eyes. She checked her card, and her eyes flashed, widening, her smile getting bigger. That was genuine pleasure. If there was a time to panick, now was it.
"So," she said, her voice full of the saccharine kindness that made her impossible to work with. "Hit? Stay?"
He had to keep his fingers from drumming. But he had a poker face. Feigning nonchalance, he answered, "I'll stay."
She pursed her lips at him, but flipped over her card. It was a 9. "Nineteen."
Gold flipped over his, keeping the displeasure from clouding his face. "Fifteen." He shrugged his shoulders. "Not my game, BlackJack."
Red split open for white. "Apparently." She swept the cards towards her, and put them back on the deck, dropping it on the table before George. Her attention turned to the other lawyer. "You stand as witness to this verbal agreement, do you not?"
Gold looked up at the lawyer. They both knew that it was very easy to protest in court, but for the fact that there were witnesses. Witnesses that could easily defend her, but, in this situation, witnesses that should not have been present to witness the situation at hand. But the ones who would take their jobs from them for this breach of ettiquette was the very witch who was asking it of them.
The lawyer flashed his eyes at Gold, but nodded to the Madame Mayor. "Yes, Madame Mayor. I stand witness. Mr. Gold is relinquishing the estate of the hospital to the public."
It was impossible to hide all of the rage he felt for this woman. He managed to keep it to a smouldering stare, but she just sat up in her chair, and encouraged George to deal another hand.
Mr. Gold is not a gambling man. He is very good at reading people, and makes damned well-informed decisions. But every so often, Regina catches him blind-sided. Even after all these years, she still manages to get under his skin. She always has some ace up her sleeve to set him off kilter. He only makes a bet when he knows he cannot lose, but sometimes he forgets that Regina cheats.