He heads after her, nodding to the players at the table—they’re used to his comings and goings, and don’t seem too put out by the loss of their dealer. Remy trails behind Max with an attentive but lazy strut.

“Bourbon, usually,” he says. He likes his fine wines, too, but in a place like this it seems better to name his predilection for hard whiskey. “Though not much here can be claim the name.”