The sound of leather shoes stepping on the floor coming closer from behind, a deep male voice followed, "I will join."
A stiffness flashed across Warrior Tucker's mouth.
James Woolley glanced over, "Mr. Martinez, do you know how to play? Didn't you say you were not interested a couple of years ago?"
Walker Martinez rolled up his sleeves, took a seat, sitting right next to Warrior Tucker, "A bit. Someone taught me."
That 'someone.'
He glanced at the charming woman beside him in the dim light.
The smile on Warrior Tucker's face remained.
However, the hand resting on her leg involuntarily tensed up upon her skin.
"It can't be played with less than four."
Suddenly.
Sophia Clark also arrived.
She had already composed herself and there was no sign of her being distraught. As if nothing had happened, she sat down nonchalantly.
Undoubtedly.
This was a battlefield shrouded in gunpowder smoke.
Yvonne Finley's lips slightly pursed.
Sophia Clark—
Intentionally.
