Outside, Mike's welcoming a lone gambler out of a cab. The gambler's wearing a semi-loud print shirt. It's not that bad. But it does signify the gambler doesn't have a girlfriend. I don't mean that he's gay. I mean that I've been threatened with physical violence by my girlfriend for wearing far less ugly shirts than this. After bumping his head getting out of the cab, the gambler steps in some gum, which we see with what I'll call gum-cam, making it painfully obvious to everyone that this stupid gum is extremely significant. Between bumping his head and stepping in the gum, the gambler calls this the "worst streak of his life," which to me sounds like he's quite a lucky man, then. He claims it's been three days like this. Three days of bumping his head and stepping in gum? He also drops his money clip, which Mike retrieves for him, and Mike then quotes a little Don Quixote his way: "Fortune always leaves some door open to come at a remedy." As if the guy's streak of bad luck isn't enough, he's forced to listen to a smug valet quoting Cervantes at him. Gumshoe stomps off into the casino.
Sam is placating some degenerate gamblers who are complaining because they insisted there be no redheaded dealers on the floor. Sam soothes the loudest one by placing his hand on her chest, while the other one stares. I sense a much more effective marketing campaign. Instead of "What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas," they should try, "Got a problem? Have some tit!" She gives the guys a bit of a glare as they happily walk away, and then she's stopped by "Jim and Janet Warner from Chicago," looking for the front desk. Sam's all, you're early! And then she rolls out the red carpet for them, with dudes coming for their luggage (Jim insists on hanging onto his shoulder bag) and plying them with champagne. The Warners seem rather incredulous, as does anyone watching and wondering just how obvious a plot could possibly be.
Nessa's working the pits as Gumshoe strolls around looking for some action. Landing at a blackjack table, he kisses a hundred-dollar bill and lays it on the table. He gets blackjack, and lets out a whoop. Understandable. Nessa's already giving him the cool pit-boss glare, though, which only intensifies as Gumshoe gets an incredibly unlikely two more blackjacks in a row (having let his wager ride each time, too). "Nice little run," says Nessa, in a tone of voice that suggests, "Nice little scam." Gumshoe suddenly gets thoughtful, and repeats Mike's little Cervantes quote.