"You can always say no," I assure him as I shuffle the cards. Two cards spill out as I do so and, giggling nervously like a girl who rarely handles cards, I stop and shuffle the Queen and the Ace back into the deck. But I have handled cards before. The goal is that he not find out.
"You can always say no," I repeat. But then with a practiced smile and a bat of my eyelashes I lean in and share a secret with him, the secret that will make or break this moment, the secret that makes or breaks every moment. My voice is soft, daring, and I hope, persuasive. "But," I whisper as if he is the only one worth sharing the secret with, "you could also say yes."
He laughs nervously, but he's staring at my card holding hands and my lips in turn. I've got him. He thinks he knows where the Queen is. But of course he does. I let him see. In this game I decide when he knows where the Queen is.
"Yes," he whispers back, there's a nervous but excited creak to his voice.
"What was that?" I ask, pretending not to hear.
He clears his throat and straightens his collar. "Yes," he repeats.
"Yes is always the more fun answer," I tell him. I tell him that because it's true. My favorite interactions and favorite moments all sit in that moment the die could roll a 6 or a 1 or where the answer could be "yes" or "no." "No" has a power to it that I find equally intoxicating but "yes" suggests that even more exciting things are yet to come. I like both. But "yes" is more fun.
“100 gil,” he says and puts his money between us. I smile at it. Twelve. I hate gambling for gil. But I don’t have a choice at this moment. I need to make this seem legitimate to get what I’m really after. I can’t be my usual quirky self right away. I can’t ask for fun, non-gil items immediately. I have to wait for the right moment. I have to gamble with fucking gil.
“100 gil,” I repeat and put my own money between us. “You sure about this?” I ask pretending to give him an out. “I’m very lucky,” I tell him and look up at him through my lashes. I’m very good at cheating, to be honest. But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt me.
“I’m sure,” he says and nods his head. “I’m sure,” he repeats because he isn’t really.
“Ok. So as long as you are able to pull out a Queen card, doesn’t matter which one, then--”
He doesn’t wait for me to finish. He pulls my gifted card right out of the deck. I am shocked! I reel back in my seat, stunned. I bring my hand to my open mouth so close that I get a bit of lipstick on it. “...How did you..?” I ask, but of course I know how.
He chuckles and says, “Just lucky I guess.”
“I should say,” I agree.
“Play again?” he asks with a confident smile. “Of course you can always say no,” he lets me know like he’s in on the secret. “But you could always say-”
“Yes,” I say breathlessly. “Yes, let’s play again. You shuffle and I’ll guess.”
We bet 150 gil this time. Just to keep it interesting. This is not interesting. I hate gil.
He shuffles and I pick the wrong card. I know these cards. I am the one who subtly marked them and I know I’m picking a 2.
“Too bad,” he says feeling absolutely no pity for me. I give him my money.
“I guess that’s it then,” I say picking up my stuff and preparing to head out. This is it. This is the moment. He can let me walk away or ask me to stay. Of course I want him to ask me to stay, but I have to sell this. I can’t look too eager.
“Really?” he asks. “Not one more game?”
I beam at him. “Well, I really want to… but I don’t have any more money to gamble with.”
“Oh,” he says disappointed and sinks back into his chair. Shit. SHIT. He was supposed to suggest we gamble something else so he could spend more time with me. How am I supposed to get what I’m after now if he isn’t interested in gambling for anything other than gil?? I have to turn this around!
“Well…” I say, nervously tapping the toes of one leather boot on the dirty ground. “I mean… we could gamble other stuff… if you’re interested.” Say yes. Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.
“...Well…” he says, unsure. It’ll do!
If I am to win this I need to bet something important. He needs to know this is important to me. Nymeia, the goddess that determines my fate, that determines all fate, and controls the outcome of every big moment that tests fate, needs to know this is important to me. I look down to a silver ring on my pinky. My heart drops to my stomach. This is the ring I spin every time I make a big bet. Losing this would be like losing a limb. Hells, I’d choose to lose a limb before I lose this ring. He sees me eyeing it.
“That’s a nice ring.” He’s seen me spinning it. I spin it all the time. And it’s also expensive which, I suspect, he cares even more about. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I say yes.
“How much is it worth?”
I can feel the color drain from my face. He grins. He’s not a very nice guy it turns out. Great! That will make me feel better about cheating him at best and robbing him at worst.
“That much?” He asks and leans back. “We can just put this on hold until you have more gil. Maybe play a different ga--”
“I don’t say no to gambles,” I lie. “I’m in.”
He roots in his pockets for an amount of gil that he thinks matches the value of my silver ring. Yeah, well, there is no amount of gil that matches that value and I don’t have time for this anymore. “No no.” I say, finding my voice. “You bet something fun instead too.” I motion with my head to a box nearby.
The prison supply guard turns to look at it. “You want what’s in that box? But that could be anything.”
It could be but I’ve been watching this supplier work and I know it’s Yellowjacket uniforms. That’s why I am here. I need those uniforms. And I can rob this guy to get them, but then he’ll alert authorities which is exactly what I don’t want him to do. I can try to buy them from him but I hate gil so I don’t ever have much on me and it’ll make me look suspicious, like this was all a plan (which it was) and not just a spur of the moment, random decision I made because I saw a box out of the corner of my eye. Or I can win it in a rigged game of cards and he’ll be too embarrassed to tell his superiors that I was ever here.
“I like risks like that,” I say happily. “Should I shuffle?”
He stares at the box. Then at my ring. Then at my cards and he says something that makes my heart drop for the second time and makes me feel a bit dizzy. “I’ll shuffle,” he says, “with my own cards.”
I make to complain but he’s taken this whole thing over. Now I’m the one in the hot seat. “You either let me use my cards and shuffle or we can just be done with this. Yes or no?”
“...Yes,” I say quietly and my voice creaks a little.
“What was that?” He’s enjoying this.
“Yes!” I repeat. He pulls out a brand new deck and I hope it is the same kind I have so I can just use one of my Queens and… nope. Different. Fuck. My ring is on the line and I actually need Nymeia to help me with this bet. It’s entirely up to chance now. Even as I panic I am also feeling like I’ve just been swept off my feet. The rush of adrenaline during a thrill, when things could go one way or another, always makes my heart feel like an airship taking off after a long time of waiting at the gate. I am flying. I am soaring. I am elated.
I am scared absolutely shitless.
He shuffles and he’s very good at it. He’s probably cheating! Ha. I deserve this. I absolutely deserve this. I would spin my ring and ask for good luck but the ring is on the table. I ask Nymeia for good luck anyway. I remind her that if this succeeds she will watch me attempt to break into the biggest prison in the city affectionately called “The Bilge” and less affectionately called, “The end of the line.”
“Where’s the Queen?” he asks and I watch his eyes. I watch his hands too in case he tries to fix the cards. My finger starts toward one card and I see the micro-expression of joy on his face, the one he’s sure he’s hiding from me, and I move my finger. He tries to keep a neutral expression, but his eyes are looking slightly to the left of the card I am pointing at. I pass the card I think he is looking at and I see him take a small breath. Relief. But am I right? What if I’m wrong? There’s a chance I’m wrong. There’s a big fucking chance I’m wrong and then I’ll have to just steal these uniforms and--
I feel like I’m right.
I start to pull the card up next to it to give him a chance to think he’s got me. The smile is already appearing on his face despite himself. I immediately shift to the correct card and pull it out. As I turn it around there’s still the chance that I am wrong… I look.
I am RIGHT.
“Fuck,” he hangs his head low. “Let me win the box back.”
“Not now,” I say. “I have to go. We can later.”
“Really?” he asks, surprised.
And in that moment he knows I can say yes or I can say no and he’s hanging on a thread hoping he hears the answer that he wants. I slide the ring off the table and back onto my finger and then answer him as I pick up the box.
