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Summary
If Quackity caught a glimpse of Wilbur, his entire game would be over, and he would no longer get the thrill of fooling around right under his nose.
So now here he is, dressed in a deep burgundy not unlike the outfit he wore the day of his failed attempt to blow up Quackity’s horse, preparing himself in a bathroom stall for the most dangerous activity he’s ever participated in as a hobby.
Of course, if one doesn’t count blowing up L’manberg and much of Paradise.
Wilbur is not a stranger to high stakes. So when he hears a rumor of an underground gambling ring in Las Nevadas with stakes higher than any gambling hobbyist could fathom, he can't help but investigate during a secret night on the town with nothing on his person. After all, what could possibly be riskier than gambling with nothing except one's own last life to offer to the table?