Every second Tuesday, the immortals play poker in East London.
So far, Elvis is winning.
“Dude, you should have seen their faces. They shot me, poisoned me and threw me in the river. Then I walked in the next morning and sat down at breakfast. Breakfast!”
Constantine sighed. He’d heard this story before. “Your bet, Razzers.”
“Oh, yeah. Fold.”
Elvis hummed ‘Hound Dog’ under his breath, and raised.
“Again? Again, Presley? Gods, I used to have an empire. Fine. Fine. Call, you bastard.”
Elvis flipped his cards. “Kings. Uh-huh-huh.”
“Fututa sum hic,” Constantine spat. “I should have seen that coming.”
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This one is from the prompt ‘Constantine XI, Elvis and Rasputin play poker’, and will teach me to make throwaway remarks in my e-mails.
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