[hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/cntyo0f.png[/img]
[img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/dHRmLjEyOC5hMTc0MDAuVEhWamEzay4w/old-town.regular.webp[/img][/center]
[right][code]Present day
Interactions: Gulda, Lila, Ransom (Briefly), Cali (Briefly), Kel (Briefly) 
Outfit: Leather coat[/code][/right][hr]

Lucky cackled as the black-furred tabaxi slumped to the floor unconscious. He'd noticed the trick, seen it done plenty of times back in the Old Frontier. He was waiting to see if Gulda noticed it too, and obviously she did. In his eyes, she'd let him off damn easy. Cheating somebody in cards was the ultimate form of disrespect where he came from, and it would typically cost a man his life to try it. He took a look around the Inn. All the hustle & bustle, the drinking, and now a bar fight over cards? It was reminding him too much of the saloons of his past, and he hated thinking fondly on the past. He selfishly threw that life away years ago, he [i]doesn't get[/i] to reminisce on the good times anymore. 

[color=a36209]"Dammit, I hate when I get so drunk that I start to remember."[/color] Lucky thought to himself. He needed a smoke. Pronto. He reached towards the table for his lighter, only to grasp thin air. [color=a36209]"Oh yeah, the table"[/color] he muttered to himself. The lighter had flown across the room when she flipped it, the thing could be anywhere in this Gods-forsaken place. It was one of only mementos of his past that he decided to keep, and he refused to lose it over a bar fight he wasn't even in.

[color=a36209]"He totally deserved that whoopin', but did'ya have to flip the whole table damn like that? Fuck, where's my lighter?"[/color] He grumbles to Gulda, drunkenly struggling out of his seat to search for it.

Lucky sways back and fourth as stands up. [color=a36209]"Shit, I [i]really[/i] had too much to drink."[/color] he mutters as he stumbles around the bar, shoving past anyone in his way. The longer he looked, the more desperate he got. The cravings for a smoke were getting stronger and stronger with every second. He needed to stop remembering. The longer he stayed in this room, the more he thought of the past. Memories of the family that he betrayed, the friends that he lost, his lover... They came like a tidal wave, and he couldn't take it anymore.

After several minutes of tracing every nook and cranny in the general direction of where the table flipped (and a few verbal altercations) he found it. Pushing past a pair of tieflings and a heavily armored blonde guy he noticed the signature bronze plating with "HELP FOLKS" crudely engraved by hand. It was his lighter, inconveniently placed underneath the seat of a tall half-elf with muddy clothes. [color=a36209]"Move, that's my lighter."[/color] Lucky says, reaching under the seat to grab his prized possession. 

He gave it a flick, just to take a brief glimpse of the flame. Doing that always calmed him down when he was stressed. 

He flicked it again, again and again.

Nothing. He'd forgotten to refill it. 

[color=a36209]"Goddamnit!"[/color] Lucky yelled out, before pulling a coin out of his coat and handing it to the half-elf.

[color=a36209]"Hey bog-trotter, spare some oil?"[/color]