After finishing his breakfast, Al took a leisurely stroll through the busy streets of Detroit, enjoying the hustle and bustle of the city. As he walked, his eyes caught sight of "The Tops; Casino and Restaurant", and he felt a sudden urge to try his luck.

He walked into the casino and was immediately greeted by a sea of people, ranging from ranking officials in the Mafia to corporate executives, police officials, and politicians. Al knew better than to ask questions, so he made his way to the roulette area.

He placed a few bets, losing some and winning others, but in the end, he hit a lucky streak and won big. He felt satisfied and decided to celebrate with a drink. He made his way to the bar and ordered a whiskey, striking up a conversation with a few ladies there.

As the night wore on, Al enjoyed the company of the people he met, making connections across the board and feeling a sense of camaraderie and excitement. As he saw his watch, he realized his flight departure was closing and he wrapped up his time at the casino, feeling content with his winnings and the connections he made and made his way out to the airport.

Lucious walked into the Tops he wanted a steak and they had a great steaks from the chatter he over heard when he was getting his hair cut.  Lucious swung by and was seated immediately and he ordered a prime rib with a garlic souce with corn on the cob and garlic toast with toasted cheese on top and a large glass of ice tea.  He lit a cigar and then exhaled a large puff of smoke.  He looked at his rolex and smiled as he recalled the day he was given the watch and the woman that gave it to him.  

His food arrived and he was content and he finished it off slowly.  The place was busy and the noise from the casino kept him looking around they were alot of cheers and laughter.  Lucious paid at the table when hewas done then went home for the night.  

The Tops was a curious building to Zoyechka, having been one of the few places she had not been into. She often wondered what kind of place it was. Was it a casino? It sounded like it. The people going into the place always seemed well to do. Once she had earned a few extra dollars, she got herself dressed in a black dress, matching heels and quickly put up her hair. Brushing the strands out of her face.

Walking into the building, she caught a circular desk. Walking over to it allowed her a peek into the building. Noticing the swarms of people, Z decided to back track and make her way out the doors.

This was the third casino Bree had been to in two days. She thought she'd unloaded all of the cursed cash that seemed to be chasing after her, but no, there was always some more of it just around the next corner. This last time, the proceeds from a sale had landed in her account, and she needed it gone. Immediately.

BANG! 

Man, she loved it when that happened. The 1950 Chevy Bel Air sometimes backfired when she rolled up to these places, and it was such fun to her, watching all the valets hit the dirt. Grinning, she got out of her pastel-green monstrosity and threw the keys towards the nearest valet, who still happened to be flat on the pavement. 

"Take care of her, eh?" Bree laughed a little as she went inside, circumventing the desk and the people around it. She didn't need directions to where the action was happening, all you had to do was listen. 

"Whiskey sour, please." Bree had stopped at the bar first, this time. Having a googly-eyed cocktail waitress wiggle up to you and your cash really ruined Bree's flow. She was here to lose, and lose big. Her eyes roamed the large room, eventually landing on one of the craps tables that sounded pretty hot. Hot was okay, she could deal with hot. She just wanted to be there when things turned ice-cold. 

"Thanks." Bree tossed down a fifty next to her half-finished drink and walked over to the table and began to play. Ten dollars here, twenty there. Everyone was winning, though, and it took almost thirty minutes before things began to really turn south. Several people moved off the table, hoping to find their luck again somewhere else. The time felt right, a real stinker of a round, so Bree went all in.

You accepted House's Tops dice bet. House rolled 691 and you rolled 897. You won 200.00 credits. You gave the dealer 1% of the profit.

"God dammit!" She could feel the heat in her face, hear the blood rushing in her ears. The man next to her turned and stared.

"Why are you cursing? You just won." If she'd still had that whiskey sour in her hand, Bree would have tossed it in his stupid face. He didn't know, had no clue whatsoever what hell Bree was going through in her effort to rid herself of this stupid fucking money.

"Eat shit, asshole." Nearly in tears, Bree picked up a chip from her pile and threw it at him, hitting him squarely in the forehead. With obvious reluctance, she scraped her winnings into her purse and left the table in search of a cigarette machine.

Fuck. He really shouldn't be here, drunk and confused, huh? Would that be the title of your sex tape joke? Meh! It would have been a very dark and shitty one if he'd thought about it now, instead, he passes by some tables, even some of the more notorious types as he seats himself at the Aces Theater, this place was a goldmine, of course, it was one of the god awful criminal scumbags. 

"What can I get ye- Fuck. Jake, what the fuck are you doing here? I thought I told you, no more coming down to Detroit, it's a goddamn warzone. Pretty sure you'd be better back home, where you belong." Tommy, the asshole, of course he was a bit more difficult to deal with when Jake was on duty. 

He'd not be on duty anymore, well, for the foreseeable future. Pushed off-duty for doing what he thought was for the best, of all the families, the goddamn Ianuccis had to be the ones that caused him to be fucked off and pushed down the totem pole. It didn't help that he continued to be given shitty assignments, so he quit. 

"Fuck off Tommy, just gimme a bottle of scotch, aged what? thirty or so, that'd be perfect for a night or, wait, fuck it! A month like mine, I need this, so hurry up and give me the drink." Scowling, his eyes trained down at the bar for a second before glancing off to the side, hearing the creaking door of the Aces Theater, what was someone like her (Bree) doing here of all places? 

Eh, it didn't matter. Long as he got drunk, that's all he can do right? Yeah, that's all. 

Michael had been busy looking for unemployed bodyguards, they seemed to be sitting on each street corner these days, but none seemed of good enough quality to be hired to improved his detail team. As he came across The Tops, he realized he was ready for some little entertainment. It had been all work no play for his days on these shores, not like the easy life he had in the old country's south.

He stepped in, flashed some bills to the cashier and with a big stack of chips he decided to check out the roulette table, perhaps a spin or two before dinner!!

She'd found the cigarette machine, but it hadn't accepted casino chips as a form of payment so Bree had kicked and rocked the machine until a pack had fallen out of it. There were no matches, though, so she began to wander the different areas within the casino to look for some, eventually winding up inside of the Aces Theater. 

It was quieter in here, just the low-key sounds of diners enjoying a nice meal in between shows. Bree dropped her large bucket of chips on the floor at her feet and took a seat at the bar. She slid a chip across it, hoping it would be recognized as legal tender in here.

"Whisky sour I guess. Matches too, if you have any. Just keep it." She waved her fingers over the $1000 chip. The bartender shifted his eyes towards the man sitting nearest Bree, and some sort of silent conversation took place. A moment later the bartender nodded, took the chip, and went to fetch her beverage. Bree was still trying to remove the cellophane from the pack of cigarettes when he returned, probably God's way of telling her it was time to quit them.

"Right." Bree dropped the pack on the bar and placed her hands over her face while she considered her options. She could get up and just walk out, but someone was bound to call out after her that she'd forgotten her bucket of chips, probably Tommy the bartender, or this guy that seemed to be in charge of him. Maybe not though, because that guy was doing some serious brooding himself while staring into his glass of scotch. It looked as if  JakePeralta's day had gone even worse than Bree's.

"Excuse me sir, I don't suppose you know offhand, which game in the casino has the worst odds or even just the worst of luck? Or- or maybe you could point me in the direction of someone who enjoys some rather egregious side-betting? I really don't want to walk out of here with this,"​ she said, kicking the bucket at her feet with the toe of her shoe, hard enough for a few chips to spill out of it and onto the carpeted floor. She knew she sounded like a lunatic, but she'd stopped caring about that a long time ago. Cursed money did that to you.

He'd heard the question minutes past and he really didn't want to talk about the gambling but wwthe scattering of chips, the unopened packet of the cancerous sticks. It was a calling to take up the assignment, but he recalled, he wasn't doing that sort of thing anymore.

Slipping past her guard, he takes and picks the pack up with ease and manages to give her a smile. Winsome enough, he doesn't do too much, removing the packaging, picking one of the many smokes. 

"Worst odds? I don't think you're in the right casino to even be doing that, why would you even need to lose some cash in the first place? Parents funding you enough?" Jake doesn't exactly want to know but his instincts tell him to profile, to get inside the head of who was opposite him. Of course, his training would usually give him ample time to adjust, yet he doesn't need or want to do that right now. 

"I would try the die games, simple enough unless that's how you have got a bucket there in the first place. Some of us aren't blessed with the noicest ways of a game." He sounds bitter, like Shillings. Yeah, he certainly needed that smoke now and considering his lack thereof in the recent time he'd been laid off. He considered it a cursed affair. 

Sighing, he knows he doesn't have a fucking light on him. Of course, that was Amy's goddamn addiction, he'd never wished to take part in anything she'd given him and now? Well, sign him the fuck up. 

"Who is going to screw with you anyway? I doubt you have issues pertaining to protection. But hm, some side bets? What would that entail? I'm open to a little betting myself, depending on if you are willing or not." Laying down what he could, he has to guess for himself if he's read her right, there's gotta be a reason for her lugging this around. 

Sighing, he effortlessly reaches with his fingertips and keeps the chips within his fingertips. A dull look settled on his face, smiling childishly at the blonde-haired dame. If she wanted to gamble, then who on earth was he to deny her that moment of loss? Something that she clearly wanted, then made another game exciting as well. 

The question of why played in his head, leaving an intrigue of silence to follow soon after. In time, obviously, he wasn't the former best in New York for no reason now. He'd earned that title, for a reason too.

"That's what I figured." Bree stared at the freshly unwrapped pack of cigarettes, not really motivated to find a way to light one anymore. Then her gaze fell back down to the bucket of chips on the floor. Had it multiplied? Of course not. It wasn't possible.

"Neither parents nor protection have anything to do with this," she said, kicking at the bucket again. More chips escaped, rolling across the carpet. She could probably just keep at it, kicking until they spilled everywhere, but it didn't matter, it never did. The money would just find its way back to her again.

The thought of side bets seemed to appeal to JakePeralta, though. What was there to lose, besides this pile of chips? She grabbed hold of this new hope and unfolded herself from the slump her spine had slouched into over the bar.

"Any bet, any amount. As simple as you please, or we can complicate it, it's entirely up to you," Bree said, trying on a little smile. Maybe she'd seem less like a lunatic this way.

"If you love the tables, we can play at any of those, it doesn't matter to me one bit. Or, we could just sit here and bet millions of dollars on the color of the next person's shirt that walks through those doors." She tilted her head towards the entrance. It sounded pretty frivolous, but her point was being made.

Then the next person walked in, and it was a woman, wearing a red dress. The color drained from Bree's face, she'd just missed the opportunity of a lifetime. She would have bet on it being a man walking in next, and that his shirt would have been white. She turned again to look at the man next to her, her smile broader than ever, now.

"What do you say? I'm feeling rather unlucky right this moment. Any game, any amount. Clearly, I'm good for it." Bree kicked her chip bucket again, her collateral was right there for all to see.

"Shall we bet?"

Sal walked into the Tops Casino and Resturant, her walked over to the restaurant side and took a seat.  He was handed a menu and told the specials of the day.  Sal smiled and asked for the pot roast and spuds with greenbeans and a glass of lemonade.  He handed the menu back and the waitress walked off to turn in his order.  Sal then looked around their were a few dozen people eating and talking no one cared or showed any interest in him and that was great in Sal mind.  

Sal was two hours early for the meet he like to set up frist and see if who he's meeting is on the up and up or is up to no good.  He pulled out a magazine to read as he waited for his food.  from time to time he would give a quick scan around the joint to see who walked in and with who.  When his food arrived he eat slowly and continued to watch the room each time he lifted his glass of lemonade.  until the guy he was to meet arrived.  

Casinos were always high on Leviathan's list of frequently visited businesses. They were always the perfect place to use his cruel methods of playing with mortals emotions. Looking around he noticed many people who were throwing their entire weeks pay check at the dealers, hoping they might be able to live like a king, even just for one day. Such a great place for him to spend his time cursing those unfortunate people with his number one purpose... ENVY.

Sal was playing the slots and the one arm bandits was taking his coins as fast as he could feed it.  He was hitting the machines that were full and hoping that he would tilt and get the prize.  He was still waiting on the guy he was to meet.  A waitress passed by he asked for a whiskey sour as he lit his cigar and kept pulling the lever on the slot machine.  He took a few puffs of his cigar when the waitress came to him with his drink.  Just when he was ready to leave he heard his name called.  Sal turned to face the voice and saw a man that called him.  

Sal walked over and looked into his face the man gave a head nod to follow and Sal followed.  They walked over to a table and sat and began to talk business.  They talked for a few hours then they shook hands and then Sal told the man where they should meet again to finish the transaction.