Chapter 47: Luck And Loud Shirts

Kane leaned forward, his breath held as the first reel stopped on a diamond.

The second landed on a diamond too. His heart raced—but the third showed a lemon, the fourth a bell, and the fifth a cherry.

"That’s one," Cyrus noted, his voice laced with smug satisfaction.

Kane hit the button again.

The machine erupted in flashy animations, but the result was equally disappointing—three different symbols and no matches.

"Two down," Cyrus said, checking his watch.

Kane’s third spin yielded two matching sevens, but nothing else.

The fourth spin was his worst yet—five completely different symbols.

"Last chance," Cyrus reminded him, leaning against the neighboring machine. "I’m thinking your punishment should involve public humiliation."

Kane wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. His finger hovered over the button as he closed his eyes.

"Come on, baby," he whispered to the machine.

He slammed the button.

The reels spun faster than before, lights flashing in hypnotic patterns.

One by one, they locked into place: cherry, cherry, BAR, cherry, cherry.

The machine didn’t explode with jackpot sirens, but it did release a modest chime as credits were added to his balance.

Kane checked the payout—he’d won $750 on a $500 bet.

"YES!" Kane leaped from his seat, pumping his fists in the air. "IN YOUR FACE! I WON!"

His voice echoed through the casino, turning heads at nearby tables. A security guard took a step in their direction.

"I BEAT THE DRAGON!" Kane shouted, jumping up and down. "FLOWER POWER, BABY!"

Cyrus grabbed Kane’s arm, his grip firm. "If you don’t lower your voice immediately, we’ll both be escorted out."

The security guard approached, hand resting on his radio. "Sir, we appreciate enthusiasm, but—"

"My apologies," Cyrus interjected smoothly.

"My assistant is simply excited about his first cruise experience. It won’t happen again."

The guard nodded reluctantly and backed away.

Kane gathered his winnings, beaming with joy.

"I won the bet fair and square," he whispered intensely. "Hope you look good in hibiscus prints."

"You know," Cyrus said, watching Kane pocket his winnings, "beginner’s luck shouldn’t be wasted. I could sponsor you for a few more rounds."

Kane’s ears perked up.

He studied Cyrus’s face—the tightness around his jaw, the calculated casualness in his offer.

"Oh my god," Kane laughed. "You can’t accept that you lost, can you? The mighty dragon, defeated by slot machine fate."

"Don’t be ridiculous." Cyrus said, avoiding Kane’s gaze.

"Well, a bet’s a bet. And I believe there’s a floral shirt with your name on it." Kane grabbed Cyrus’s wrist.

Before Cyrus could protest, Kane dragged him toward the casino exit, weaving through clusters of wealthy passengers.

"There has to be a gift shop on this floating palace," Kane muttered, scanning the directory near the elevator.

His face lit up. "Aha! ’Siren’s Treasures’ on Deck 5."

The gift shop was a tourist’s dream—shelves lined with overpriced souvenirs and vacation necessities. Kane made a beeline for a rack of colorful shirts.

"Too bland... too subtle..." Kane pushed hangers aside until he gasped dramatically. "Perfect!"

He pulled out a shirt that could only be described as a tropical explosion—vibrant red hibiscus flowers against a background of electric blue, with yellow parrots scattered throughout the pattern.

"No way," Cyrus growled.

"Oh yes!" Kane countered, holding it against Cyrus’s chest. "Look, it even comes in your size."

The shopkeeper approached with a cheerful smile. "Excellent choice! That’s our most popular pattern this season."

Cyrus glared at the shirt with undisguised horror, his jaw clenched so tight Kane feared he might crack a tooth.

Kane bit his lip, surprised by the genuine discomfort in Cyrus’s expression. The dragon was truly miserable at the prospect.

"Alright, tough guy." Kane replaced the shirt on the rack. "How about a compromise?"

He browsed the selection, pulling out a black shirt with small, dark blue hibiscus flowers subtly printed along one side.

"This one fits your brooding vibes more."

"And you know what?" Kane grabbed a louder turquoise shirt covered in sailboats for himself.

"I’m dying to get out of this suit anyway."

Cyrus exhaled slowly. "Fine."

The shopkeeper rang up both shirts, and they changed in the fitting rooms.

When they emerged from the gift shop, Cyrus looked almost relaxed in his understated floral shirt, the dark pattern complementing his imposing presence.

Kane, meanwhile, practically bounced in his bright sailboat-covered monstrosity, looking every bit the enthusiastic tourist.

They strolled along the promenade deck, Kane admiring how Cyrus’s subtle floral shirt transformed his entire demeanor.

"You know, you should dress down more often," Kane said. "It suits you."

Cyrus’s response was cut short as they passed through an archway into the Coral Reef Lounge.

The space opened into a sprawling beach paradise—complete with sand-colored carpet, thatched bar huts, and ceiling projections of moving clouds.

Palm trees in massive planters created the illusion of a tropical getaway.

Their new attire blended perfectly with the crowd of vacationers.

A live band played upbeat reggae fusion while couples and groups danced beneath color-changing lights.

Cyrus and Kane found a quiet corner table nestled between two artificial palm trees.

The ambient noise of the lounge provided just enough cover for private conversation.

"I need to take this call," Cyrus said, glancing at his vibrating phone.

Kane nodded. "I’ll grab us some drinks; any preferences?"

"Something without an umbrella," Cyrus replied dryly before answering his phone and turning slightly away.

Kane weaved through the crowd toward the thatched bar.

He ordered a whiskey for Cyrus and some tropical concoction for himself that came, naturally, with both an umbrella and a plastic mermaid.

Balancing both drinks carefully, Kane headed back toward their table, taking a shortcut behind a large planter.

He rounded the corner at full speed and slammed directly into a solid wall of muscle.

The collision sent both drinks flying.

Cold liquid splashed across Kane’s sailboat shirt and up into his face. The whiskey tumbler shattered against the floor.

"Oh man, I’m so sorry!" the stranger apologized.

Kane wiped his eyes to see a tall, broad-shouldered man with honey-blond hair and concerned blue eyes.