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[cardsharpcal]

Cal didn't know a lot about this guy at first, just that one day he'd come in and found him on his turf, working his angles, crowding him out of a good gig. He'd done a little digging, not a lot, but enough to know that the name he used was fake, didn't go back more than two years. After three days, he followed him back to his hotel, having watched

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[sterlingwins]

Sterling didn't have a lot of respect for the Vegas rulebook. He didn't put too much care into things like reserved seats, and personal turf and marks that you didn't go after. After all, the best fun of all was conning a conman. He used fake names because it was easy, left most people with nothing to go on except for that hint that he was a criminal himself, likely had a rap sheet he was trying to dodge with the name he went by. Not too far wrong, even if his rap sheet was blank. With his real name, there was the chance that some curious bloke might pull up a Triad connection and try and corner him into doing things that weren't his corner of the market.

He turned at the sound of his voice, quickening footsteps and arched an eyebrow. "Sorry, mate. I hear in Vegas wallets are prone to walking away."

[cardsharpcal]

Cal kept moving, coming in quick to close the distance between them. They were near his room, close enough that if the guy reached a hand out he'd be able to touch the door frame. Cal was crowding into his space, looking up the slight difference in their height at him, just an inch or so.

"How 'bout you do the same, then, eh?" he asked, pressing in closer. "You're on my turf, mate, so bugger off."

[sterlingwins]

He didn't back up, his grey eyes moving to Cal's, something calculating in his gaze, even before he started talking. His smile quickly sharpening, something dangerous, not quite feral but riding the line of it, a flicker that hinted at the fact that Sterling enjoyed the conflict, but wasn't the sort to back down.

"You know, that's not how it works. It's only your turf if you're good enough to blood well keep it."

He wasn't backing down, if anything, there was a challenge in his voice. A tilt of his head to the side as he used his slight height to look down at him. He could have a gun. But he didn't feel like it, didn't think that if he did that he'd use it, at any rate.

[cardsharpcal]

"Oh, I see, pushing me away and insulting me?" he leaned almost imperceptibly closer, eyes sharp and harsh as he stared up at him.

He sees the man looking him over, sizing him up. Cal doesn't know what the man might or might not have on him. That much, so far, he hasn't been able to find out, but he knows from his face that he's not out to kill him, he's not a real threat. He's just getting off on getting in his face.

"You going to pull my hair or somethin'? Throw a pen at me, call me a dirty name." Yes, he was insinuating that the man's reactions so far were primary school advances, childish come-ons. He was trying to push buttons.