Leaning forward just enough so as only Stone heard is low drawl, Sereno uttered……. “You do realise of course that I’ve had far too much to drink and can barely see who’s sat opposite us.”

Stone moved his eyes slightly towards him as a wry grin enveloped his face. He opened the cards in his hand revealing each corner and peered over them towards the pot. A small mountain of bills and a few coins sat invitingly as the centre piece beneath a dimly lit light accompanied by a lone fly which everyone around the table took turns at swatting when the opportunity arose.

An opaque thick layer of smoke resided above the gathered Mafioso which hung like a veil offering little privacy against the eyes of the Made Men who stood peering at the proceedings over the circular wooden balcony rail above.

The door suddenly opens to the room as another trolley is ushered quietly in with clean glasses, an array of liquor beneath and several silver platters with freshly made sandwiches. Sereno beckons the waitress with a single finger, carefully places his hand face down and buries his forefinger and thumb into the salmon and cucumber, dropping a slice onto the green suede cloth.

“Careful there old chap” says Gatsby who sits to Sereno’s right. His words punctuating the constant release of smoke from the enormous Cuban cigar held firmly between those pure white teeth of his. Gatsby hands his empty glass to the girl who bends over, places the glass at the bottom of the trolley, her long slender legs being watched intently by Gatsby. He smiles that smile of his at the girl as she hands him a refill in a clean glass, her body and face responding silently to his obvious attentions. She moves to his right, awaiting the gestured intentions of the others sat around the table and delicately combs her dark auburn hair with her finger tips behind each ear.

“I’m out” grumbles Stone as he drops his hand onto the pot, leaning backwards on his chair beckoning the girl over. He hands her his empty glass and points at the bottle of Irish whiskey.

“What time is it anyhow?” asks Sereno.

Gatsby removes a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat pocket, flips the casing open with his thumb nail and replies………..”3 a.m., its Sunday morning apparently”

A chuckle circulates around the table as the Poker game moves into its second day and another layer is heaped onto the pot.

The Made Men above quietly whisper among themselves, another cigar is lit, the glasses are full and Stone eases his chair back from the table…………….”Toilet break” he says, slowly stretching as he stands to his feet and makes his way over to the door……………….

Sereno closed one eye, attempting to stabilize the double vision. Looking around the table he noticed one seat is now free yet Gatsby was still seated. Blurry, but still present. Sereno rubbed at his nose then placed his hands behind his head, sinking a little in the chair as his head leaned back. His once well presented and mirror checked thrice attire was now in a different state. His jacket hung over the back of the chair, his tie was loose around his shirts collar and the sleeves on his shirt were rolled back to his elbows.

As the game lingered on, his drunkenness had gotten the best of him and let the others take a bit of his money. Poker was a game he enjoyed and was quite decent at, if you asked him, yet his tendency to drink made him a little reckless with his bets and now he was in a state he really shouldn't still be playing.

As he slumped in his chair and tried to gather a comprehension on the moment, the liquor in his system wanted a way out, now, and not exactly through the usual route. Without saying a word and with the moment still in a spin, Sereno sloppily raised himself out of the chair and staggered his way toward where he thought the kitchen would be. His cards were face down on the table and the quite sizeable pot was now left in the hands of the sole member left, Gatsby.