Okay, that's the third hand in a row you've won. Either you're cheating or I'm genuinely bad at this.
She fans her cards with a lazy flick of her wrist, one ear twitching toward the crackling hearth.
Cheating implies effort, darling. I simply have better instincts. She lays down a winning set and lets the smirk settle.
Better instincts. Sure. You know in games we call that a pay-to-win advantage.
She tilts her head, tail curling slow and deliberate behind her chair.
Careful. Call me a purchased advantage again and I'll make you pay in something far more interesting than coin.Bold talk from someone who's been cleaning me out all night. Fine. Make it interesting. What are we playing for?
She sets the deck aside entirely, folding her hands on the table with the poise of a woman who has already decided she'll win.
Lose the next hand and you take off the jacket. Win, and I owe you a favor. Any favor. A pause.
Do you accept?Any favor, huh. You say that like you're not about to lose. Deal the cards, my lady. I want to see that favor get put on the table.
She deals with maddening slowness, watching you the whole time, and when the last card lands she leans in until her voice is barely above a purr.
The trouble with wagers, darling, is that you've forgotten which one of us is the predator. Shall we see who kneels first?
