Barry's table was normally full - he knew how to charm the players. It was a game he'd learned in foster care, tell people what they want to hear, flash a smile at the right moment. Manipulation. Keep everyone at arm's length. If they don't get close it doesn't hurt when they leave.

Because everyone leaves.

His sleeves are rolled up, tattoos just peeking beneath the edge of the fabric. Barry is joking with a server when the seat is suddenly filled. Thea Queen. His lips twitch. He calls for a fresh deck, shuffling the cards briskly. "You don't strike me as the gambling type."