Dear Journal,
The other sun I wrote about croonin' the number seven at the Crimson; aye? Well, there were so many sevens this eve!!!
Not just on the dice and the cards, but Forgal? FORGAL ordered seventeen Forgolden Delights. Seventeen. Gods. So much ale! Not to mention all the yak's milk, and most of the pineapple juice: gone in one order. And the night was still young!
Then he spilled it all. Ha! His rotten luck...which only got worse as the night progressed.
Then he asked for seventeen more, but nay: I couldn't! I could make him another seven. SEVEN! And I had to forego the yak's milk for sweet cream. He didn't seem to mind, though. I don't know how he held his bladder for the few bells he was there.
Anyroad: all the sevens! So many twists on the Fate Counter this eve! And so many special events were trigged by the patrons! Weavy even won 500,000 gil just by the flip o'the dice. And I do believe Waffle won 1,000,000 during the first triggered event? Hells, Forgal won over twelve million with the boldest roll I've ever witnessed!
Gods, it was a glorious eve at the Crimson! So much singin' of "sevens" that I daresay my throat is hoarse and my voice is a bit husky! And, Farfnir's Farts, the tips were plenty!
We shall see what the Crimson and her Golden Gambler provide in a few suns when her doors are once more open.
I know one thing's for certain: I must needs more milk. And pineapple juice. Shite!
...
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