The Adventures of Mrs. Z. Stardust
The moment she stepped from the lift, she could tell that the place hadn't changed a bit. They'd redecorated, sure—probably a couple of times. But it was a simple truth that all casinos really did look alike, she'd been up one side of the solar system and down the other and couldn't tell you which was which from a picture. Each one had its own unique kind of desperation, though. There was a feel to the crowd, a flavor to the anxiety that made each gambling house unique and the Spiders from Mars Casino hadn't changed any in the years she'd been gone.
She was pretty sure the red flags on Faye Valentine were long inactive. It hardly mattered. After all, it had been a long time since she'd been Faye Valentine.
Despite that, she avoided these remnants of her past life like the plague—she was supposed to be respectable now. But that scent of desperation ignited something inside of her and she felt herself moving differently, carrying herself with a different air and she knew that she was watching the room more closely. She automatically read body language and reacted to it; mind in motion on how to play the angles. She blinked as though to clear her vision and shook her head slightly, stopping herself short. That just wouldn't do any more.
That's why she hated places like this, they made her feel her age. Not her physical age mind you, her real one. Places with memories attached just didn't suit her, too many chances of a ghost tipping his hat to you in the lounge or a knowing smirk over a single malt. No, she'd been right to avoid these places and she'd be more insistent about it next time he wanted to come. For now, though, all that remained was to get through it. She had to steel herself and play the part of the trophy wife, closing the lid on Faye Valentine, raconteur and bounty hunter. No matter whose shadow it was coloring the desperation here, among the Spiders from Mars.