Ragnar

"The money was wired successfully just a few minutes ago," a man's voice calls from behind him, Ragnar standing, bare arms folded over his chest, his right arm crawling with a tattooed sleeve, he glances down at his domain below. The flickering of lights from the machines below are muted by the one way window, his entire casino floor filled to the brim with new and returning customers. It didn't matter what time of day it was or what day of the week, the lure of the machines was always addiction most folks couldn't fight, something Ragnar was entirely aware of. Hence, the building of his line of casinos within the city. "Good," he calls back in approval, his nordic accent running free here. He had no need to hide that part of him in his own domain, at least, when he towered above everyone else. The Viking King usually dwelled within Casino Freya, his favorite of the three casinos that littered the city, this very casino having been the first large scale place of gambling within Sacrosanct. Upon his arrival, it had hardly taken long to scare off the competition and build such a glorious building.

It was satisfying to say the least but he wanted more.

Casino Skadi came next and a few years later, Casino Sif. All in honor of his Nordic Goddesses, though he had left his homeland over a century ago, he could still use the reminder of who he was and where he came from. "Boss, there's something happening over on Island 12. Johnny's poker table," that same voice calls from behind him. Shifting his gaze, towards the farthest reaches of the casino floor, Ragnar narrows in on the crowd, a floor attendant leading security towards the table. The crowd blocks the view of the person sitting at the table, though he knew Johnny wouldn't call for security for any minor reason. Frowning, he unfolds his arms and turns on his heel, glacier eyes glancing at a man sitting behind a mess of monitors - security cameras of the entire casino and a few showing an obscene amount of money. "Want me to send someone else down there?" he asks without tearing his eyes away from the screens. "Nah, I'll take care of it," Ragnar replies with accented words before stalking past the dark haired man. That seems to get the man's attention, as his head snaps around quick enough to make the glasses he's wearing, fall down his nose. Quickly, he pushes it back up, "You haven't dealt with a floor scuffle in years, why are you going now?" the man asks with a healthy dose of wariness etched into his features.

Ragnar shrugs casually without stopping, "I'm bored," his reply is simple as he reaches the office door, hand grasping the knob and turning it to let the noise of the casino below to flood in. "I'll go with you," the man states suddenly, pushing himself up from the chair. "That won't be necessary Derek, I'm just looking for a little fun, plus - I need your eyes on those security cameras, there's been a few fellow Hunters sneaking around the past few nights, I want to make sure they know we are running an... upstanding establishment," Ragnar calls back, his lip curling into a dangerous smile as he watches Derek fall back into his sit with a huff, mumbling about stupid vikings under his breath. A bark of laughter falls from his mouth, "I'll have someone come relieve you in an hour so you can go have some fun," the viking calls to the man before stepping out into the hallway. He glimpses Derek flashing him the finger before he shuts the door, Ragnar shaking his head.

Derek had been with him since day one in the city, Ragnar having stumbled across the vampire in the port when he arrived. He had tried to get the jump on the Nordic man and after a few minutes of scuffling, a few more minutes of explanations, and another moment of Ragnar promising not to murder the scrawny man, The Viking King took him in and eventually, made him the head of his security department and all things to do with computers. Those first few years were interesting to say the least but after they got into some serious shit with the council, they became thick as thieves. Though Ragnar never told Derek who he really was, he knew Derek was a smart man and either already knew and didn't care or was still searching and that particular conversation hadn't happened yet. Which led them to the present day of Derek flipping Ragnar off when he didn't get what he wanted. Shoving a hand into his well worn jean pocket, he whistles a little tune to himself as he descends the stairs into the chaos of the casino. The sounds of the machines was everywhere, the angry slaps of people losing their money and the occasional scream of excitement when someone hit the jackpot. It was music to his ears.

He strides through the machines, making his way across the floor, Ragnar very much aware he looked nothing like a mafia boss, let alone the owner of such a fine establishment. The tattoo that snaked down his arm, the casual jeans and sneaker he wore to the well fitted, dark grey v-neck shirt. No, you wouldn't think this man was important. Yet, he carried himself confidently, the few floor security guards he passed, nodding at him as he strolls to Island 12, the poker table having drawn quite the crowd. Johnny, the dealer, glances up at him, frowning, which has the floor attendant and security guard turning to glance at him, perhaps a bit of astonishment written on their faces at his appearance. God damn, apparently he needed to do some rounds on the floor more often. The two men step aside, revealing a person sitting at the poker table, Ragnar casually sliding into the empty seat next to the stranger. "What is the problem here?" He asks nonchalantly with a perfect American accent. The dealer tries to interrupt but Ragnar lifts a hand up, silencing him, "I didn't ask you Johnny, I asked our friend here," he says pleasantly, dangerously, without so much as tearing his gaze away from the stranger.