....

I saw him; his unruly head of curls was sat at the end of the table. A single cigarette sat between his lips as his hands held cards that were spread like a fan.

He let out a laugh as he threw down a card; then his eyes landed on me. A wide smirk spread across his face as a dimple appeared, "hey, lets deal baby face in."
...
Can you really find the "one" in a mental asylum?
...
For, Cheyenne.