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He didn't expect to be coming back here so soon.

Enough time spent on the road, rolling dice and placing bets with enough results in his favor to gather up infamy perhaps in greater abundance than monetary earnings, a reputation like his meant he could only look forward.

His luck had always felt as though lent by a devil, too abundant and sweet for honesty.

And with luck like that, a place quite plainly called “Cupid's Hell", a new venue that popped up in his hometown, of all places, was simply too much of a lure to ignore.

So the drifter stood just across the street outside the megaplex that glimmered down in alabaster and pink, bordering on gaudy but somehow owning it, especially when backlit by the color spill of imminent twilight.

But, there was only so much wonderment to be gained from standing outside. The real thrill waited beyond that trio of towering double-doors, propped open for the evening crowd. And what a crowd there was; so many rubes just waiting to be separated from their money at whatever table he decided to frequent. Maybe every table, if that's what it took to satisfy his itch.

Music pounded and pulsed in time with the changing colored lights that illuminated the entryway, making every step feel new and different compared to the last until he finally strutted out into the casino itself; sprawling, crowded, and spanning multiple floors.

The ambience of the place was more music to his ears than the music itself; ringing of bells, clattering of tokens, cries of jubilation and defeat uttered in tandem, sounding out everywhere at once.

It was the sound of life. And, of course, of one more place to conquer; no amount of rigging could keep him from that, he was sure of it.

The moment he passed the threshold, he stood out. Not for any visual quirk; among the variety of ambitious anthropomorphic attendees, his gilded but dark palette expressed through his pseudo-Western wardrobe was by far not the strangest thing about him; there was an energy to this human that simply didn't escape the notice of those tuned into it.

Unknown to him, on one of those higher floors, bright red fingers delicately clutching a cigar came down to grip the handrail. Their owner's heavy, sharply-dressed frame, hardly contained by the soft pink suit tailored to accentuate his size, made the rail creak as he leaned over to take a look at him, his luminous eyes narrowing in a bemused squint.

“Well, well, would you just take a look at you?" he said softly to himself as he watched the gambler cross the floor. “Make yourself at home, boy."

He pressed the cigar into the palm of his other hand, bringing it away fully ignited, before taking a long, deep drag of it, and exhaling thick pink smoke out from his flat snout along with a fiendish chuckle.

“Hell's been waiting for someone like you for a long while."

The gambler, sufficiently loaded up with tokens, cracked his knuckles as he approached a table, popping down into a free seat.

"Evening, all; what have we got going on here?" he asked. Of course it was blackjack, he could see that; it was one of his favorites to start off an evening with.

Taking him at face value, or at least pretending to, the horned Dobermann dressed in pink smiled welcomingly, beginning to give the table a rundown, before the casino-goer to the man's right clears his throat.

"I'm sure we're all familiar, get on with it," the masked bird urged through a yawn conjured up just for the moment.

Immediately it earned him an eye-roll from the two others at the table, but our gambler simply gave him a side-eyed smirk before turning his attention to the table.

The payoff didn't take long to arrive after that, stifling a chuckle as the bird paid for his ambition, taking another hit and receiving a four of clubs, landing a score of 22 and letting out a groan as the dealer collected his wager. Most would take that as a lesson and exercise caution, but the human, feeling a promising buzz as he weighed his chances, looked up from his score of 18 to meet the dealer's eyes.

"Hit me," he prompted.

The Dobermann's serene smile didn't shift even slightly; there, fate and chance were kings, and they saw fit to piece together a perfect 21 for one who frequented their court.

The gambler beamed at his fellow guest somewhat victoriously, even if they weren't really opponents. Raking in his new pile of winnings, he was already beginning to partition out a new wager. Why stop after one round?

But, eventually, he did get his fill, leaving the table with pleasantries and a tip of his hat, an emblazoned bucket of high-value chips in his grip.

And so his carefree circuit through the casino continued, repeating the outcome at every stop. Dice clattering into a basin of glossy dark wood, their roll matching his predictions every time; the roulette lining his pockets no matter how many times he let it ride, but he knew when to stop pushing his luck and move onto the next event.

After banking most of his winnings, he meandered to the bar; a multi-tiered structure servicing multiple levels at once, stacked like a squared wedding cake shaped from marble, with clientele flocking to the outer edges while bartenders serviced them from the inner.

Crossing a carpeted bridge, he took a seat, to find the bow-tied imp on the other side of the counter already fixing him a drink.

"Well now, you work fast here, don't you?" he remarked. "I haven't even ordered yet."

"From the owner," the imp explained, pouring the mixture from a shaker into a tall, narrow glass. "With compliments."

They planted a straw into it and presented it with a nudge.

"Really now?" the human asked, intrigued. He sniffed the beverage curiously; overpowering even the scent of alcohol was the aroma of strawberry. He didn't necessarily have a fruity drink in mind upon arrival here, but he wasn't disinclined from playing along. Taking a sip, he found the flavor strong, but smooth, with a pleasant burn to it on the way down that no other liquor he'd ever tried had compared to.

"Well, my compliments to you as well, friend," he chuckles, stirring the mixture idly, "you've got a real knack."

The imp closed their eyes in a smile and gave a polite bow. "You flatter me. I've been doing this for a while."

The human downed about half the drink before continuing. "So what'd I do to grab the owner's attention? Am I gonna be meeting this guy anytime soon, if he's already buying me drinks?"

"Both are for him alone to answer, but I would not be surprised if he makes time for formal introductions."

"Heh. Guess I must be stirring the pot a bit conspicuously tonight." Forgoing the straw, he finished the rest, setting the glass back down and sliding it back in the bartender's direction, before fishing through his pockets for a tip.

"Before I go stir it some more though, would you mind setting me up with another one of these?"

"I would be glad to, sir," the imp replied, already beginning to mix up a second round.

After attaining just the right level of tipsy for his liking, the gambler returned to the floor, the old slot machines catching his eye. Most places had switched to digital machines by now. Granted, even those couldn't slow his roll for long, but he knew all the old tricks analog equipment had to offer.

He had practically tuned out all other sounds by the time he slipped a high-value chip into the slot. As he pulled the crank to set its gears spinning, he gave the cabinet a few well-placed taps with his palm, listening out for a faint click that only a trained ear could place.

The lever followed his grip down again, with a practiced speed and smooth motion, lining up a seven in the first column. Well, a six. He guessed it was a stand-in, meant to keep in line with the theming of this place.

In moments, he completed the sequence in full, thanks to a bit of impact calibration along the way, and tokens spilled out into the tray as bells began announcing his success. As he began heaping them into his bucket, he didn't even notice that someone was behind him, until their hand patted him heavily on the shoulder, startling him.

He turned around, springing to his feet in case he had to fend off an envious onlooker, those were rare but it had happened more times than he had fingers to count with, but rather than finding that, he took a face-full of smoke, inundated with a familiar strawberry scent. Clearing it from his lungs with a short burst of coughing, he realized he was now in the presence of the owner.

A bright red pig, a shock of white tracing a line through his short, dark, curly hair, beamed down at the gambler, his grin obstructed only by his enormous cigar.

As much as the human wanted to make eye contact, the difference in their heights alone would have made that difficult, but his gaze kept wandering down again to take in the whole picture. Every part of the proprietor's body strained against his pink suit, but he didn't even try to cover his midsection, an enormous, crimson gut freely protruding to encroach on the gambler's space.

“Well boy, I had a feeling something interesting might wander in here tonight, and I'm pleased beyond words to see I've not been mistaken," the demon says, placing his free hand on his hip.

Admittedly intimidated, the human actively stifles his uncertainty and puts on the same aloofness he arrived with before speaking. “Glad to be of entertainment. Cupid himself, I take it?"

That elicits a chuckle from the pig, loosing smoke that seems to curl about like fingers. “The one and only. And since you've been such thrilling entertainment, I've even got a little proposition for you, should you be up to it…"

Raising the brim of his hat to keep his field of view open vertically, the gambler fell nonchalantly back onto the seat by the slot machine. “Well, that all depends on the proposition. What do you got for me?"

“Oh, nothing you haven't seen before. Poker, just a simple five card draw, but with a catch. If I win, you forfeit your earnings and do my bidding for the remainder of the night. And if you win, we're gonna put a multiplier on everything you've got now and end the night with more money than most see in their lives."

“Sounds like a normal night for me," he scoffed. “I could keep going and get there the long way. Buuut… it's not every night the proprietor of such a fine establishment comes down and shows a personal interest. How can I say no?"

“That's what I wanted to hear," Cupid said enthusiastically. He held out his hand as if to shake, and the human found himself going along with it before he even had time to process. The demon's grip was firm and tight, but not painfully so, and yet, the sense of finality in the shake was undeniable. “I'll see you at… oh, that table looks good, don't you think?"

He pointed over the railing, to the bottom floor, singling out the table right at the center, for all to see.

“I do like an audience," the human agreed.

“Juuust swell. Take half an hour to get ready if you need it, but don't keep me waiting. You're in my hell now, and don't you forget it."

That last bit legitimately put a touch of fear in him, but he didn't let it show. “Sir, I wouldn't dream of it."

Even after parting ways for the moment, the drifter didn't even end up taking the full thirty. A little bit of time spent getting himself spruced up, a little more for another trip to the bar for something a bit lighter, a few minutes to get all his chips unbanked, and lastly, his entrance back onto the main floor.

The ambience of the place carried on, albeit noticeably quieter than before. Many others in attendance had stopped what they were doing and had gathered to watch. Their gaze was expected, of course, so the gambler's attention was all dead center, meeting the eyes of Cupid and his entourage.

A quartet of horned Dobermann dealers flanked the ovular table, all wearing the same smile as they watched the new challenger approach. Watching even more intently of course was Cupid, eyeing him up from across the pink baize, and waving him closer to be seated.

“Are you ready to put it all on the line?" Cupid asked, still wearing that suave smirk of his.

“It's not a good day unless I do," the gambler affirmed, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. “Shall we then?"

Cupid looked to one of the dealers, who approached the side of the table, and began to shuffle the deck, making quite a scene of it, Faro-shuffling with an almost mechanical speed before transferring the cards as an airborne, linear flurry from one end of their arm span to the other. With no more than a couple of seconds per participant, they slid five cards to each player in alternation, which skidded to a halt in front of them in a perfect fan formation.

“Since you're rolling so well tonight," Cupid began, picking up his hand, “we can start high, don't you agree?"

He takes up a fistful of tokens and casts them onto the table, and in moments they are gathered up into a pile.

The human took up his hand as well, his practiced expression giving nothing away to his opponent as he inspected it, before shrugging. “I reckon I do."

Mimicking Cupid's demeanor, he takes a fistful as well, with an almost aggressive force, before sprinkling them daintily onto the felt, to be stacked up in equivalent wager.

“Then let's see what you've got in you."

Cupid passed three cards back to the nearest dealer, receiving an equivalent number. His expression didn't change, of course, he was a pro, but when he all too casually poured out a bucket onto the table, and the other attendants quickly began bringing it up into neat little stacks before sliding it forward, his bet spoke for itself. There were easily a couple hundred thousand dollars at stake, at minimum.

Glancing over the tops of his cards, he took the white chip by his side and flicked it to his opponent.

He stopped the sliding buck with a single finger and then traded in some cards of his own; it was a junk hand, but it almost wasn't, and as always, he felt good about his odds of fixing that. As usual, his sense proved accurate as he took his new cards. It could work.

And so, he simply tipped over one of his own, spilling out tokens which the Dobermanns quickly gathered around to count out an identical amount.

Three kings, really? The challenger expected more than that. “You trying to scare me, sir?" he asked, only letting his smile show as he reveals his hand. A straight; low numbers but ever so slightly higher up on the ladder than Cupid's cards. “You'll have to try harder than that to stir me up."

Cupid let out a soft chuckle, seeming more amused by that than anything, even as his dealers collected his wager and brought it over to his opponent. “And here I thought I might get you to back off. Well, lesson learned." He passes his hand off, cracking his knuckles idly, one at a time. “I feel like there'll be a lot of those tonight."

The human anted up again, and the dealers slid out new hands for both players again. Picking his own up once more, he exchanged a few that time. Full house, queen high, not bad at all.

“Alright, sir, how are you feeling?" he challenged. He tipped a bucket with a single finger, though the maneuver didn't come quite as easily as he would have liked on account of how full it was. Under the quick attentiveness of the nearby staff, the tide of tokens rises into neat towers once again.

“Mmmmm, let's find out, shall we?" Cupid returned with a crashing of tokens of his own.

His opponent allowed a wry smile to spread onto his face as he revealed his hand. “Well, let's see what you got, then?"

Cupid chuckled, immediately putting a damper on the man's high. “Funny you should ask... “ He flashed his cards, securing his victory for this round. Another full house, ace high, a battle flag set the fanfare of the demon's now-unbridled laughter.

A minor setback, all things considered, but it was the first setback this flamboyant faux-cowpoke had experienced all night. Or at all, in his recent memory. He tried not to pay any mind to the sweat beginning to bead up on his forehead, but as Cupid took a long, slow breath in through his nose, it read a lot more like him sniffing the air than recuperating himself. Maybe that was just paranoia talking. Maybe.

Cupid was happy to let his opponent have his doubts though. Of course his first thought would have been right, but more uncertainty was better. And with someone so used to constant success, it didn't take much work to plant the first seeds of it.

“Pass the buck, would you kindly?" he asked, having composed himself.

The gambler snaps back into his usual aloof presentation, flicking it across the felt as the pair of them pay out their next ante.

As before, their faces betrayed nothing during the initial assessment of their new hands.

Cupid spilled his next wager, fluttering the three thick fingers not concerned with holding his cigar as a gesture to invite the gambler to do the same.

"Reckon I'll fold," he declined, setting down his hand. One pair.

"Fair enough, there's wisdom in restraint, some say," Cupid said, revealing his diamond flush. "Not me, though," he added along with a smoky laugh.

It looked like the man's morale was beginning to tank, even as he put forth his wager… at least until the second bucket went crashing over as well, eating into half of his reserve.

"Care to double up with me, sir?" he invited Cupid.

The pig blinked slowly at that, palm on the rim of a pail of chips, ready to tip, but in the end, he backed off of it. "Nah. Let's see what happens."

The human finally had his turn to have a heart laugh, laying down a junk hand. "Shoulda stuck to your guns, you might have had me."

"Yes, I might have…" Cupid scowls sidelong and the wasted full house in his grip, before passing it off coming down on the buck again. His read was good, but evidently not foolproof. As much as he intended to have fun here, his opponent was no pushover.

His expression turned into a smirk of determination, and he finished off his cigar in a single drag, before pulling in the stub on his tongue and forcing smoke cascading from his nostrils. While holding out his empty hand, one of the Dobermanns placed a new cigar in it, which Cupid lit on his own by pressing it into his other, smoldering palm.

"You really are a wily one, aren't you?" he mused. "Let's see you keep it up."

As the match continued, it actually began to gather more than just the casual nearby observer. While poker was never a pastime with much in it for spectators, the almost-tangible heat of ambition rising from the pair along with the obscene amount of money at stake being passed back and forth made for a wild spectacle in its own right.

Nobody could really be sure how much time had passed, as is the nature of casinos, but it eventually came to a head, both players nearly even, with the steadily increasing ante leaving little room to back down with the following bet.

But that would never deter someone like Cupid.

"Alright, kid," the demon began, on his fifth cigar now, absolutely wreathed in an intoxicating strawberry haze, "nowhere left to go but all in, right?"

"As I see it, either one of us could walk away right now no worse for wear," the gambler teased, "but where would the fun in stopping there be?"

"That's what I wanted to hear."

There was no clattering that time, no wave of tokens to nearly engulf the table, just the dealers moving all of his buckets to the center, and bringing in his challenger's sum to match.

It took nearly all of the man's willpower not to grin. All the aces in the deck had found their way into his hand, what a finale it would be.

"Thank you for the hospitality sir, but I think I'll be taking that and seeing myself out," he said, spreading out his decisive blow for all to see.

But Cupid just laughed. And kept laughing. Deep and jovial with an unmistakable undertone of malicious revelry that scorched away the gambler's confidence.

"Oh, I'm afraid not," Cupid refuses, collecting himself astonishingly smoothly. "Luck found someone more interesting to favor tonight."

Delicately, he set his cards down, revealing a straight flush, trailing from the king of hearts.

The human's mind raced, lines of thought stopping suddenly and starting again from square one. That square being one containing the realization that he lost to just about the only thing that could beat him, and now there was a price to pay.

"Well, it's been a real pleasure sir, here in your real fine establishment but I think it's time I called it a night!" His chair hit the floor as he turned and bolted, and his hat drifted from his head without so much as an afterthought.

Earnings be damned, he didn't care about that anymore. What was he thinking, agreeing to a deal with a literal devil?

Equally a relief as it is a surprise, nobody made a move to stop him as he made for the double-doors he entered from, but all of that relief faded away as he realized that the hallway beyond wasn't the same one from before. For one thing, it turned, and for another, it had windows, revealing itself to be on a much higher floor.

The perplexing view distracted him enough to not watch where he was going, running headlong into Cupid near the corner and bouncing off of his ponderous physique, winding up on the floor.

"Now, now, we shook on it," Cupid chastised, "but I'm willing to give you one more chan--"

Even before he could finish, the gambler was on his feet running the other way, presumably over the fact that the doors weren't there anymore, and more hallway stretched off into another 90-degree turn in the rose-and-gold distance in their stead.

Cupid sighed heavily, nobody ever heard him out, but he would have been lying if he said he didn't prefer that. Without even bothering to give chase, he idly fidgeted with his bowtie, and even took a moment to toss the remains of his cigar into a nearby ashtray before returning to his position to fidget some more until he felt someone smack into him from behind, followed by a grunt as they once again hit the floor.

“I guess you're not one for second chances, that's fine, I respect that," he continues, turning to grip the human by the collar of his shirt and lift him off the floor. “What I don't respect is your overt disregard for our little agreement and that's simply got to give ways to some… eventualities."

“Alright…" his catch strains through the effort of trying to pry Cupid's fingers back open. “I'll do whatever you need…"

“No see, you changed your mind about what you wanted, and in that time, unfortunately for you, so did I." The demon only winked at him before lifting him overhead and swiftly lowering him into his wide maw, boots and all.

“H-hey, what is this?" the gambler demanded shakily, as he was effortlessly swallowed up to his waist, planting his hands on the pig's shoulders and trying to brace himself.

There was barely any room to squirm, the hold around his legs was so tight and any slack at all in his arms just meant sinking deeper. His attempt to hold steady was placed under strain as Cupid shrugged coyly. It should have been apparent that he was being eaten, right? Did that really need clarifying?

“Hey, anybody around?!" he called. It would have been simpler to just call out for help and throw dignity to the wind but even now he couldn't bring himself to drop his facade completely, like it was something material to cling to. “I could-- I could use a hand!"

Poor choice of words. Cupid's hand shot up for his shirt collar again and tugged down sharply, and it only took one more squeeze from his powerful throat to completely engulf his prey, his reflexive sigh of enjoyment being the only, fleeting trace of him.

The interior of Cupid's stomach was too tight to resituate inside of, requiring its new resident to remain curled up, not even making a difference on his physique, invisible under all those layers of gut.

The scent of strawberry was just as overpowering inside, but there was an astringent undertone to it that forewarned imminent digestive danger.

"Come on now, let's be reasonable!" he pleaded. "This is a bit much!"

"Don't make wagers you'll regret if you lose, kid," Cupid admonished, pulling up on his belly with both arms and giving it a bounce.

"This is what happens when you get too big for your britches. You came in here looking to outsize me, but they don't make 'em bigger than this; believe me I've checked!"

With all the strength he could muster, the human pushed out in all directions, creating only the slightest raised impressions in Cupid's midriff, which were quickly conquered by the demon simply leaning against a window, eclipsing the entire thing.

"That said, I'll continue to hope you get distributed somewhat evenly, and I won't have to worry about that" the pig chuckled. "On the plus, you're going to be a truly great gambler soon: Me!"

Any further frantic protest was simply muffled by a powerful squeeze, bathing him in the hot, humid air, overwhelming for how little of it there was in comparison to the rising, audibly fizzing fluids, already beginning to tingle.

With every ounce of strength the human had left, he pushed with anything he could finagle into position; elbow or foot, it didn't matter. He was an easy morsel, nothing more, and how little of an impression he made only exacerbated that point.

Patting his stomach, the pig started to move again, figuring it was high time he got back to the floor. “Save your strength, no reason to hurry. You're joining my collection either way, cutie."

Cupid could feel a rising pressure building as he rounded the corner, finding his doors right where he expected to see them. In perfect timing with his re-entry into the casino, a show-stopping blast of a belch escaped his heavy jowls, inundated with a thick pink smokescreen he didn't even realize he still had in him.

It was loud enough to make heads turn, some of his long-time demonic clientele even raised their glasses in a sociable cheer. In an instant, he was back from that isolated hunting ground of his and fully immersed in his element.

Strolling through the venue, Cupid approached that towering bar sequestered just far enough from the constant liveliness of his domain, his own wonderful hell, to take in the atmosphere all at once. It almost seemed like he would not notice the approach of an imp bartender, but of course, he always made sure to take the time to engage with his staff.

“Exciting evening, sir?" the imp asked, giving the counter a once-over.

“You could certainly say that," Cupid replied cordially. “I wonder if it'll stay that way."

“Oh, I'd call that a safe assumption, wouldn't you? Look at this place, it's got a natural magnetism for the eccentrics you're so fond of."

“Yeah, you're right. Never fails," the pig agreed. Absent-mindedly, he starts to pat his enormous belly again, turning out to be easily distracted by the gradually waning struggling from within.

Inside, his challenger was beginning to succumb to his body. The heat was like nothing he had ever felt before, even through the sensation of numbness that coated him to the point that he could barely register the touch of the walls shrink-wrapped to his compacted form. There was only the heat of a body that wanted his own to join it, and that damn strawberry haze…

Maybe it wasn't really so unpleasant, though? Taking a deep, defeated breath, he let it fill him and take over the last of his senses, before fading to black with a quiet gurgle that almost certainly escaped the notice of all but his satisfied predator.

“Well, will it be the usual tonight?" the imp offered.

“I would love that, thank you kindly," Cupid expressed, and before he had even finished speaking, his bartender was already fixing him something in an extra-large glass.

Cupid took a sip of it, refreshing himself on the same thing he had ordered for that night's special guest.

It was only fitting, of course. Even if the would-be gambler lost that night, he made for a fun enough evening for Cupid that he was certainly more than worth another drink. The demon just hoped he would stay sober enough to entertain any other interesting clients who wandered in to tempt fate.