Seven, Seven, Seven, Jeanne & Cassidy

[Jeanne Fitzgerald]

For the first time in a week, Jeanne Ann Fitzgerald's luck was changing for the better. Whether is was that God was mad at her for being a gambling bimbo or the casino was rigging the slots didn't matter—she was winning again, and she was happy. It had started earlier that day when she first got into the Corinthian and saw there was a new blackjack dealer standing at her usual table. It had started off poorly, but as the kid made snappy comebacks to her comments she found herself lightening up a bit. The fact that they fornicated during his lunch break helped, too.

But now she was winning. And she was glad for it, because she was a few hands away from losing everything: her money, her apartment, her sanity. She sat at a slot machine at the end of the row, pulling the lever. Win. A bead of sweat formed on her brow and she suddenly realized how hot it was in there. Another win. She let out a shrill giggle. Sure, they were minor wins, but she had won the last 10 pulls in a row. She wasn't playing at a high-paying station, but if it kept up she would be out of the red fairly soon.

One seven appeared in the middle row, then another. Suddenly, her life began flashing before her eyes. She had never won anything major before, but she had a many strings of decent wins. She saw the seven flash by and she began to lose hope, but it didn't stop. It kept spinning, as if waiting for her to stop it. Jeanne stared at the slot machine in confusion and finally said, “stop,” in a hopeful tone when she saw the seven above the center.

Just before it managed to pass, the machine made a noise and it stopped spinning, the seven perfectly centered in the line. It took a moment, but then it started up again, the lights came on, and a loud buzzer sounded.

Jeanne let out a shriek of excitement and her eyes widened in awe. Her hand reached up and grabbed onto the sleeve of the person sitting next to her—a girl younger than she was, by the looks of it, and Jeanne wasn't old at all—and said, “I won! I won!”

Her life finished flashing before her eyes and it ended with the jackpot win, reliving it in her brain. She was the happiest girl in the world. Coincidentally, that also made her the luckiest.

[Cassidy Kincade]

Cassidy shook her arm loose from the grip of the girl. “Congrats” she said, though Cass doubted whether or not the girl could hear her through all of the shrieking. She tried to look happy for her, but how could she? The girl had already won plenty of times before…and this was killing her chances. Cassidy let out a sigh and moved to the farthest slot away that was possible. That probably wouldn’t help anyway, but why not give it a shot?

When she got to her seat, Cassidy pulled out the rest of her change that was in her pocket. Not much, but still enough for a few more tries. It’s not that was the last money she had before she went bankrupt, it was just that she was saving up to get out of this hell hole and every cent mattered. Taking a deep breathe she put those last few quarters in the slot machine and pulled the lever.

Under her breathe, Cassidy whispered "Come on, come on!"

[Jeanne Fitzgerald]

Jeanne heard a faint sounding 'congrats' from the girl and proceeded to see her walk away. "Well,"Jeanne muttered, "that wasn't very nice." Her hand poised on the lever, Jeanne watched as the girl sat down as far away as she could and continue playing. Her eyes never left the side of the girl's head, unblinking and hard. Walking away like that was harsh, she needed somebody to pull on when she won the jackpot.

"Miss?" came a voice from behind her. Her head leaving the clouds, Jeanne Ann Fitzgerald turned to face the speaker and smiled. "Congratulations," he said in a rather bored voice. The man was cute, but he seemed apathetic. Apathy is boring.

"Thank you," she said, her smile fading slightly. "What, exactly, do I win?" It was a good enough question--some casinos were weird, and this one was definitely peculiar. The machines seemed to have a life of their own, turning off and on at will, and they certainly had a cruel sense of humor.

The man turned his head back and peered over his shoulder momentarily before returning his attention to her. "Well," he began, "based on the cost of the slot and what you got with the machine, you have the choice of 3000 dollars in cash, or an all-expenses paid trip for two to New York City."

[Cassidy Kincade]

Cassidy blinked. If she heard correctly, and she swore she did, the girl that was just tugging on her arm won exactly what she needed herself. Son of bitch she thought. She knew what she would have to do next, but she didn’t want it to come to that. Cass put three more quarters in the slot machine hoping for the best, if nothing happened - there was no other option. Time to give up - the slots were useless.

Cass got up and started pacing around. Well, there was one other option. But would it be that simple? She contemplated it for a moment, and realized it was probably her best bet. Besides, she didn’t want to have to go through all of the trouble using her ability anyway.

Grinning, Cassidy walked torwards the girl and tried to sound as convincing as she could. “Hey, I’m Cassidy. Cassidy Kincade. Sorry about that earlier…”

[Jeanne Fitzgerald]

“Of course you're sorry.”

Just my luck, Jeanne thought with a grin, looking at the girl with wary eyes. She didn't want to make friends, making the other girl just a greedy son-of-a-bitch wanting something of hers. Jeanne faked a yawn, raising her hand to her mouth and breathing onto it. When she lowered her hand, she contemplated what to say: she could just leave her hanging like that. Well, she could, but that wasn't like her, she liked any opportunity to annoy or embarrass a person.

“Cassidy?” she muttered, tasting the name. “Lovely name.” Stupid, ugly name. “I'm Jeanne,” she continued and stuck out her hand to shake the other girl's. Jeanne's handshake was a firm, cold one. The jewelery she wore on her fingers seemed to lessen the blood flow to her hand, since it was always pale and chilly. “Jeanne Fitzgerald. Nice to meet you.”

In all honesty, Jeanne wasn't thrilled—or even happy, for that matter—to meet the girl. She didn't like girls: they were catty (so was she), they were bitchy (so was she), and they were two-faced, conniving jerks (so was she). But, just because she was all these things didn't mean she liked others with those personality traits. She found it tiring, being around herself all day. “So,” Jeanne said with a small smile. “What brings you to the Corinthian?”