A sharply-dressed but disheveled figure enters the casino, crosses the floor, and slowly, deliberately vaults up onto the stage. There isn't any performers here at the time. Perhaps they were late to arrive?

The newcomer reaches the mic and clears their throat with an imposing growl that cuts over the pings of the slot machines, and the susurations of that blackjack/pokemon combination game being invented below.

"Hey folks, sorry I wasn't ready earlier. I'd just like to remind y'all that I do need my beauty sleep. Please, for your own good, do not visit me at night; you won't like my reaction. Even if you think I won't notice. Even if I owe you money! Just... address it in the morning, please."
They sniff, and rub the spots out of their eyes.
"I don't know what happened to flat_footed, but I can't help but wonder of a connection to whatever disturbed me last night... Anyway, give me a few minutes to get ready, then we can get a little ambiance going."

Vault Archives - Dream Town, by Mark Morgan

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"And Athedia, deal me in for the next round please. You know I can't pass up a little blackjack. I'll get the caps to you as soon as I'm done my set."