I need a drink... And a nap.

The day seemed to be a slow one in the cool cavern Omen called the Hidden Gem, the Nightmare slowly tapping the deck of cards he held against the black silken table beneath him with his cheek gingerly rested against his fist. It was one of the later shifts, one he only really had two other dealers on plus a few security guards patrolling the complex. He offered the ever frosty air a huff, watching his breath puff out into the air and disappear only to be hit smack dab on his nose with... Something. Setting the cards down and whipping his handkerchief from his pocket he quickly wiped the liquid from his snoot only to find it... Glitched away? Like some off glitch of of his computer screens. His jaw slackened a bit, hand raising to rub gently at his eye as if he couldn't believe what he he'd just seen. Still confused Omen tugged his walkie from his breast pocket, gaze flickering to the darkened ceiling with a squint towards it. The piping seemed to be... Moving. The catwalks seemed to flick from one side of the room to the other. Maybe he just needed sleep? With a click of the button and a deep breath he began to speak, not even noticing the soft static in his walkie. "Hey uh, Genesis? I need you to go check the heating and AC pipes above the card tables... Something's-" He held the device up to his ear, the crackling and gurgling in it growing louder until a voice made itself clear. "Game?" Omen threw the walkie acrossed the room on instinct, the tone of it, the pitch... It was all like some strange glitch. "Aye, I need more sleep..." He turned on his heel, tail trailing behind him and his ears flicking rapidly as he attempted to leave together what exactly he had been seeing. Omen... Didn't make it to the door acrossed the room, the next thing he knew he was back at the table, cheek rested on his fist and cards in hand. With a yelp the Drak tossed the glimmering deck and bolted for the door only to end up in the exact same position, the walkie in his pocket crackling angrily to life. "GAME." It was a demand, not a request this time. Almost out of instinct his gaze lifted to the ceiling, his gaze meeting a pair of what seemed to be massive purple eyes. They danced all about the ceiling, and as he watched them he couldn't help but notice the little flecks of blues and greens that outlined a massive frame that writhed and squirmed from what appeared to be a massive puddle dripping in his ceiling. Omen couldn't seem to move as the mass descended towards his table, though it moved from one end of his room to the other in sections of its body as it did, and it seemed to shrink too. Omen couldn't breathe as it did, though when what appeared to be a black Drak sat in his chair and gestured to his cards he suddenly caught his breath. "Game." The word came from his walkie again, more polite this time as it tapped the velvet. Chips appeared where its nail landed, shifting from side to side in perfect stacks but refusing to stay in one place. Omen's maw opened and closed like a gasping fish, tail flicking madly and ears twitching with the rapid thoughts in his head. Finally Omen took a deep breath, shaking hands offering his guilded deck a shuffle. "Black Jack or Poker?" His tone was barely a whisper, finding his shoulders shaking a bit while he shuffled. Why was he shaking? This had to be a dream didn't it? Why was he afraid of a little dream? He'd had worse, much worse about his time in the farm house surrounded by the bog. The glitch seemed to be thinking for a moment before the answer crackled through his walkie, though Omen had a feeling he knew the answer already. "Black... Jack." Omen nodded, tossing two cards towards the glitch only to watch them disappear and reappear in his hand. He touched his tongue to his front teeth, shifting his weight to his right foot so he could gesture at the glitchy Drak with the cards he now held between his index and middle fingers. "Now listen here you.. thang. I don' know what kinda game yer playin' but ya better stop or we ain't plain' cards." The glitch chuckled through his walkie, though it gestured to his pocket. "The... Deck. In your... Pocket." It paused, tapping the table gently with its shifting claws. "Deal from... That one." Omen's face pulled into a mix of a snarl and a frown, hand patting his slacks almost aggressively. He'd already shuffled the house's black and gold cards why wouldn't the thing ask before he'd started dealing? "Tha' deck in my-" He paused, pulling the worn box from his pocket to gently rub it with his thumb. It was the deck he always carried with him, he had since the house in the bog burned down. He and his mamma used to play go fish with it, looking at it made him smile though the emotions behind the smile were a bit complex even for the con man. "Alri', alri'. But if these go missin' I'll track whatever you are down and gut cha' like a fish." Fear wasn't a motivator for Omen, he'd threaten anything over the precious momentos he had of his mamma. The glitch held its hands up almost defensively, another chuckle sounding from the walkie. It took Omen another few minutes to shuffle, being extra careful with these so they didn't break on him like he was convinced they would. With a clear of his throat he slid the cards gently acrossed the table, these ones noticably smaller than the others and a bit charred around the edges. That was okay though, more memories. "Hit or stay." His tone was rather flat, thumb brushing the card he had face down infront of him gently while he thought. The glitch was silent for a moment before it tapped the table with its claw, signaling a hit. Omen slid a card towards it and flipped his- 21 exactly. With the glitch flipping all three a hiss escaped the walkie, 23. It was over and it seemed upset. Though when Omen looked up the thing was just... Gone. The cards were still there, the chair still pulled out but the glitch was just gone. He gave a few blinks, rubbing his eyes furiously before whipping his head up to the ceiling. Everything was normal. Even the chatter on the walkie was normal, dealers and security guards doing their hourly check in with him and the temperature in the room nice and warm. With a confused breath he gathered his cards, gently placing them back in their charred box. "I need a drink... And a nap."