Joe walks up to the casino, taking in the facade of mysticism draping it.
I have a good feelin'abaht this place, man. It has good vibrations, just filled with playin' cahd enahgy.
He checks in at the hotel, buys himself some chips, and heads to the Blackjack table to try his luck.
((I'm not sure that's how Bostonians sound, but I'll take your word for it
))
((I'm not great at accents, and I used Non Sequiter as inspiration. I didn't really intend for it to be at all realistic
.))
((It's alright. It's possible that a Bostonian accent in this universe (filled with elves and dwarves and other fantastic creatures, no less) sounds different than a Bostonian accent in our universe. xD
Mego, the Arcane Power book states that a familiar and its master can
only speak to each other in a special arcane language that no-one else can comprehend. Can we ignore that rule? If not, that's fine.))
Safely ensconced in a corner booth, the cat leaned closer to Weston and did something that cats most
definitely weren't supposed to do:
"So what's this 'plan' of yours? You said you had a reason for coming to this blasted desert, and I assume it wasn't for the climate."Weston took a sip from his glass of iced water and smiled.
"Why, for all the beautiful waitresses, of course. Come now Honor, why else would I do anything?"Honor (for that was the cat's name) bopped him on the nose with her paw. It was her equivalent of a smack upside the head.
"I'm serious! You had a good job back in Salt Lake, but when you heard about this hotel you dropped everything to come running over here. Please don't tell me you're thinking of robbing the place.""Of course not. Call it...call it a gut feeling. I knew that I should be here for a matter of importance. What that matter is, however..." He spread his hands.
"No idea."