 Why was zarquil not played often by those in the area?
Everyone in the room was aware of the big young man, and most of the humans present were resentful, for he handled himself consciously and arrogantly, as if his appearance alone were enough to make him superior to anyone. Even the girl with him was growing restless, for she was accustomed to adulation herself, and next to Gabriel Lockard she was almost ordinary-looking. There was a short man standing next to the pair—young, as most men and women were in that time, thanks to the science which could stave off decay, though not death—but with no other apparent physical virtue, for plastic surgery had not fulfilled its bright promise of the twentieth century. "You must allow me to pay your cleaning bill," Gabe said, taking out his wallet and extracting several credit notes without seeming to look at them. And that, coming on top of Gabriel Lockard's spectacular appearance, was too much. There he inserted a coin in a locker, into which he put most of his personal possessions, reserving only a sum of money. As a matter of fact, no real identification was possible, for he was no one and had been no one for years. "Games?" the driver finally asked, although he could guess what was wanted by then. Roulette...? Each time it happens, there's a ... well, there's no experience to match it at a thrill-mill."
 It was an illegal game.
 It was an illegal game.  It was only played by Dutchmen.  It was fabulously expensive.  It was dangerous.