"Come on, come on, come on…" the man muttered, shaking his hand up and down . The dice rattled inside his fist, a faint clinking like tiny bones begging to be freed. His breath fogged in the cold air of the alley, drifting between the three of them.
Across from him, perched on a pair of overturned crates as though they were thrones, the two youngsters let out a loud, theatrical groan.
"Move it, man! This isn't a damned game of wit, throw the dices!"
"Aye," the second boy chimed in, rolling his eyes hard enough that they nearly clicked. "Had we known you were this slow, we'd have picked someone else to fleece."
The man lifted his chin with the dignity of a king lacking both crown and coin."You can't hurry luck," he said calmly. Then, with a sly grin, "Call it."
"Odd!" barked the first boy.
"Odd!" echoed the second immediately.
"Even it is, then," the old man muttered, and finally cast the dice with a flourish that suggested far more confidence than he actually possessed.
