Darcy's fingers drummed agianst the polished wood of the table. The Southern man content to watch Randall lazily from the corner of his eyes as the hefty vampire saw about inviting the blond fellow to that upper floor as Darcy had requested. Whoever he was, he had the sense not to refuse and yet his pace was almost lackadaisical, slow, hardly keen in any sense- the way a cattle beast ambled toward a river in the heat of the afternoon. Hmm. Someone wasn't nearly so excited as he should have been to establish Darcy's undivided attention. Such a shame. A slight he was willing to ignore for the moment all the same. Darcy content enough instead to simply study him as he strode up those stairs and onto that upper platform that belonged to Darcy alone. The majority of those card tables had been cleaned off for the evening. That table Darcy lounged at the only one remaining with those cards still in place and what little remained of those drinks his competition had consumed as they steeped further and further into debt at Darcy's practiced games.

Gambling had always been his forte, after all, the man possessing no affinity for those cards but rather a simple, natural talent for mathematics. His Southern Drawl so often prompted the vast majority of his opponents to underestimate him, to believe him little more then some slack-jawed yokel Risque had pilfered from the dust and debris of some far off Ranch. Perhaps to some extent she had and yet- his mind was deceptively sharp. His ability for numbers near unmatched. Darcy having learned to count those cards before his thirteenth birthday. A talent he'd near honed over those centuries of life. Whether or not that card counting was considered cheating still up for debate. After all, such a crime left no proof. No one yet daring to accuse the vampire of that very thing. That money flowed in night after night. Darcy splitting those winnings between himself and his lover. Risque having come to rely on that constant flow of coin he was apt at producing. His fingers plucked a single card from that pile then, twisting it about within them. His strange, mismatched gaze lifting to Eric at last as he lent back within his chair.

"Dat girl who was flirtin' wit ya before- at da bar. I ain't seen her flirt wit no one in weeks. She got a good eye for da fellas. It's 'er talent, if ya will. I wanted ta git a look at ya."

That heavy southern accent laced his words as thickly as it always had. Darcy making little effort to hide to way his gaze appraised that man before him. The other vampire was tall, board, muscular, the very kind that would have made a hell of a bouncer and yet this one seemed too intelligent for that. How intriguing. It was almost a shame he was too...pretty. He might have been useful otherwise. Darcy so simply refusing to allow any potential male competition to exist within the walls of Syn. The rest of that male staff, outside of Darcy himself so tending to be distinctly...unfortunate looking. Else decidedly plain. Darcy having eliminated any other male vampire fortunate enough to possess the kind of features that might distract his lover from himself. His possessiveness over his Mistress a decidedly potent, violent thing. This one was far too pretty. He could hardly stay and yet perhaps he might still prove worth knowing for the evening.

" I ain't seen ya round 'ere before. Someone as tall as yar dun make ya 'ard ta spot neither. Where ya from?"

There was a genuine intrigue in that heedy drawl. Darcy's gaze lingering upon the other vampire all the same. That gaze far sharper and more...cunning than those words suggested and yet, for now at least, there was little about the other vampire Darcy found irritating in any sense. His gaze narrowing slightly in suspicion.

"Ya'll wouldn't be from Night Train would ya?"

We are rough men and used to rough ways.