The fight had come to an end, and unlike Joe's match, there wasn't a stunned and uneasy silence afterward. Instead, the rooftop erupted with cheers, shouts, and laughter. A decent portion of the spectators had placed bets on Wolf, and their excitement filled the air like a wave of electric relief.
"What did I tell you?" one of the guests boasted loudly, standing and pointing both thumbs at himself. "What did I tell you?! Next time I win, you can suck my toes!"
His friend groaned dramatically and covered his face with both hands.
"Well, if you keep losing money," someone else chimed in, laughing, "he might actually have to suck toes just to earn some of it back!"
More laughter. More celebration. Drinks were being raised, glasses clinking. Money had been won, and in this world, even if only for a moment, that made everything feel right.
But out of everyone present, the one who felt the most satisfaction wasn't a gambler at all.
It was Wolf.
