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[recreatable]

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[elsecall]

Her brows crease. And her fingers tighten around nothing — a quick, thoughtless instinct to protect the deck from his half-threat. Jasnah's eyes drop to his hands, to the cards, to the practiced method he's developed for shuffling even with the thinner, flimsier paper. She's had a privileged seat to that progress. She remembers the first night they played — back on the ship — and how much trouble the notebook page cards had given him.

Then game by game he got better at shuffling them. Adjusting what must have been habit for a stiffer set to something gentler, more fluid, for these makeshift rectangles. Tonight, you'd never know they weren't exactly as they were meant to be.

Jasnah lifts the corners of her cards — noting in silence that despite the shuffling she got stuck with the identifiable jack all the same — and delays her choice.

"The work isn't shoddy."

[recreatable]

The work had been done quickly, first out of excitement for something to show her—he'd been so giddy and restless to show her, like a child holding their finger painting up for their parent to see—and then out of boredom, a need to fill the time while she convalesced. The workmanship is... it's fine, but it could be better. A lot better.

"Rudimentary, then," he replies. With proper cardstock, a nice ink pen, and some paints, he could make them look exactly like a card you might buy in a shop in Lumière.

He taps her cards. "Hit or stand?"

[elsecall]

Rudimentary, then.

But Jasnah would classify them more like a start or a beginning. And then they grew into something else: an emotional root structure that held together whole nights. And when he's done with this deck, she'll keep it for herself. Lock it up with all the other nice things she doesn't let herself have.

"Why are they both still face down?" She points at his cards. She points at her cards. And she makes a fuss about something entirely unimportant because it's a release valve she desperately needs. "Surely, I can't choose whether to hit or stand without that point of data."

It's how he'd taught her to play. Originally. If this is some variation, she doesn't know it.

[recreatable]

Slowly, Verso looks at her and turns a six over.

[elsecall]

It should really have ended there. She could have left well-enough alone, flipped her jack, and proceeded to play the game. As expected.

And. Well. Jasnah does flip her jack. And then, leaning forward, grabs another card to add to her hand — presumably choosing to hit.

But then she has to go and ask: "Did you forget or were you trying to cheat?"

No eye contact.

[recreatable]

—He'd been running on autopilot, just going through the motions without paying the sort of close attention he has during their games in the past. She doesn't need to know that, though. Probably not the sort of job performance she's looking for.

Verso laughs a little at the half-accusation, bemused. He is an inveterate cheater, but it's not like she knows that. Not like he's ever cheated when playing with her.

"If I wanted to cheat, don't you think I would have been a bit more crafty?" Another tap of his cards. "Stand."

[elsecall]

"For all I know, you could be awful at it."

Cheating. Only upon this fresh accusation — if it even can be called an accusation for Jasnah to think for a moment he mightn't be the cheating type — does she raise her attention and meet his eyes. Maybe the little spark of laughter eased something between her shoulders.

Jasnah doesn't dare hit again. So, sliding her fingers under her remaining cards, she flips them to reveal a sum total of sixteen. Oh. She's playing a cautious game.

[recreatable]

Verso looks at the sixteen, eyebrow trending up slightly. Unusually cautious for her. She could have pulled a card with a value of five or lower and cemented her victory. But since she didn't, he turns over his cards to reveal a ten, a six, and a two.

"If I was going to cheat, I would have made sure I had a more decisive victory," he points out, before gathering up their cards. He wouldn't have expected her to stand on a sixteen. "Again?"

[elsecall]

Each day this week — in every council meeting and dinner-turned-negotiation — Jasnah has been the one to say aloud that they'll need to de-prioritize Alethkar in favour of other efforts. Especially if Dalinar insists on keeping his word to the Mink and sending reinforcements to Herdaz sooner rather than later. Coldly, callously, she has argued against a push on what ought to be Alethi territory because the numbers simply don't make sense.

Maybe it's hard not to read the characters on the cards like troop numbers. Lives, committed or not. It's making her feel risk averse.

Nevertheless, she taps the table.

"Again."

[recreatable]

Hmm. He reshuffles the deck, dealing out two cards for each of them. With a pointed look, he turns one over—an eight. With only a cursory look at the other, he says, "I'll stand."

[elsecall]

Jasnah reveals her top card. A four — nothing to get excited about. And he manages to make his call before she even does the mental math. Of course, that makes her assume that he's got something good. Something high. A ten or a face.

And she's got — hmm. She does hit, frowns at her third card, but stands nevertheless.

"Go on, then," she gestures for him to reveal first.

[recreatable]

And he does reveal his cards: on the other side of the eight is a seven, for a total of fifteen. He's adjusted his playstyle to hers, immediately trending more cautious rather than following his natural instinct. It'll be more entertaining for her if they're on a level playing field. "Your turn."

[elsecall]

— Well, this is awkward. On the assumption that he'd already secured himself a lofty number, she's as good as given up after her third card. Jasnah eyes her hand, delaying a moment longer before splaying them out. Four, eight, three.

She also pulled fifteen.

"Is there such thing as a tiebreaker in vingt-un?"

[recreatable]

Oh. Wow, she's really off her game today; even with him purposefully handicapping himself, she still only managed fifteen. His nose twitches, corner of his mouth tugging down for just a moment. There's a question on the tip of his tongue—what's going on with you today?—but he swallows it.

"Typically, it results in a draw. No win or loss." He reaches out to gather up her cards again. "But it's fair enough to say that a tiebreaker goes to the queen, I think."

[elsecall]

One-handed, she elides her cards together and gently lifts them from the table with the edge of her nail. Then — pinched between her index and middle fingers — she offers them back. Another stark difference between their time spent hiding out in Thaylen City and now: she's no longer enjoying the relative mobility afforded by a gloved safehand rather than a sleeved one. Still, she deftly makes do.

Tiebreaker goes to the queen. If only all stalemates could be solved so tidily.

"I don't know of many games that allow for draws," she comments. Tone dark.

[recreatable]

Well, the vibe is all kinds of off today. Not that it's ever been on since getting back, exactly, but perhaps they haven't been alone together long enough for him to really pick up on it. Verso is aware, in some obvious way that doesn't even require a moment of realization, that it's his responsibility to fix it. It's always his responsibility to fix things.

So, he shuffles the deck again, then fans the cards out and holds them out to her.

"Hey, pick a card."

[elsecall]

She hesitates.

Somewhere further along the Cloudwalk, there's a gentle rustle of wind through stone corridors. And a slightly less gentle clink-and-rattle of spheres bracketed and locked in lamps along the outer wall. Inconvenient, really, to use one's currency for lighting.

Jasnah picks something on the far right of his fanned out collection of cards — studying it as she turns the card towards herself.

[recreatable]

"Remember that card," he instructs, before nodding toward the deck. "And put it back in."

When she does, he shuffles the deck again, more showy than the perfunctory shuffling he'd been doing during their game. He's gotten better at doing the shuffle tricks with thin, bendable paper—it isn't as impressive as it is with real cardstock cards, but it's respectable.

As he shuffles: "Now picture the card in your mind's eye, and I'll use my skills of mindreading to see it." Skills of mindreading that he's never once mentioned or used until this moment. He shuffles a little more, then makes a performance of looking at the deck, squinting in thought, before he holds up the Ace of Hearts.

"Is this your card?"

[elsecall]

Jasnah one hundred percent — without a doubt — does not believe in mind-reading. At least between two non-spren. But she goes through the motions, she pictures the card as instructed, and doesn't allow herself to get too too distracted by those shuffling techniques.

What? It's always worth watching someone do something well. Even in the heat of a strategic crisis, she appreciates skill.

He proffers his guess and — without confirming or denying aloud — she simply says: "Again."

Because of course his slight-of-hand landed on the right card. And because she's determined to catch how it's done the next time.

[recreatable]

"Okay," he says with a shrug, because at least she's entertained. "Again."

He shuffles the deck, then holds it out for her to pick a card just as she did before, offering the same sort of verbal showmanship as he did the first time. When she places it back in the middle of the deck, he cuts it with her chosen card on top, then proceeds to shuffle in increasingly performative manner—the shell game, but with little handmade cards.

Finally, he holds the cards out in front of him, looking thoughtful before he picks a card from the same position he had last time—dead last—and holds it out.

[elsecall]

Close-up magic is — quite obviously — a masculine art.

She watches his hands with rapt attention. This time, she doesn't let herself get waylaid glancing at eyes or listening to his words. And she thinks (she thinks!) she catches something off about the way he cuts the deck. Or the fact that he cuts it at all instead of riffling straight into a shuffle.

Jasnah's head drifts to the side in a thoughtful tilt. She takes the card (her card!) and their fingers brush but barely as she does. She examines the card itself, wondering whether (like the jack of spades) it too has some tell-tale bruise or scar.

"When did you learn this?"

Alone, on the continent? Before, among others? In all the brackish, miserable awkwardness of the past week she's forgotten not to lead with an interrogation.

[recreatable]

Before, he might have shared how he'd first tried to learn it to impress girls at parties (because of course he did). He might have explained that he only succeeded about half the time and the young ladies were rightfully unimpressed, but that endless time on the Continent gave him plenty of opportunity to redeem himself. But this isn't before anymore, so he says:

"I was born with mindreading abilities. Ostracized among my peers until I learned to use my powers for entertainment purposes."

[elsecall]

Tap, tap, tap. A fingertip, pinning the final card to the table before she pushes it across. Back to him. She can't know what he's holding back — doesn't even occur to her that he would be. All she knows is that he's opting out of an earnest answer. And — okay — it wasn't all that serious a question to begin with.

She plays along. And it's clear that she's playing along. There is no shred of her that even attempts to believe his story.

Still, dryly: "What number am I thinking of? Right now?"

[recreatable]

"You're not thinking of a number," he says smoothly. "You're thinking that I'm full of it."

😇

[elsecall]

Jasnah was absolutely thinking of a number. Some implausible and gnarly and partial number down to a fourth decimal point. But — of course — she was also thinking that he was full of it. Two things can be true at once.

"Partial marks," she decides. For being half-correct.