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[recreatable]

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[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.

[recreatable]

Verso feels the inclination to tease her, perhaps to beg for an extra credit assignment to amuse her. I'll do anything to improve my grade, even read about the historical significance of the wool trade— but that is probably the type of too-familiar thing that he's already been scolded about, so he keeps it to himself.

"Told you," he says, then straightens up the deck. "Another game?"

[elsecall]

Jasnah doesn't answer. Not immediately. Instead she sits in the hollow spaces of this conversation — grappling for things that have disappeared. Lacking the vocabulary (or maybe just the familiarity with the vocabulary) to ask after them.

She thumbs her chin. Curls her knuckles against her mouth. Chews on the questions she'd intended to ask by having him meet her here tonight. No. Not ready yet.

Then — straightening and holding out that hand — she says: "Here, I'll deal this time."

[recreatable]

Verso watches that curl of her hand, eyes unfortunately drawn there even now. (He's allowed to look. It's not illegal to notice someone's long, elegant fingers.) For the third time tonight, he wonders if there's something weighing on her mind. Every instinct is to blurt out something's troubling you, to make one of those assumptions she hates so much. But she asked him here to play cards, not to comfort her; he slides the deck over to her side of the table.

"I've already won once," he says, "and you've won once." Well, they tied, but he graciously allowed it to go to her. "I suppose this round will determine the winner for the night."

[elsecall]

The winner.

Jasnah wouldn't be able to shuffle as grandly or as easily as he can even if she had access to both hands — so she makes do with some very practical cut-shuffling, steadying the deck on the sorta-webbed surface of her sleeved palm.

"Would you entertain a small wager?"

Some mild decisiveness sparks in her eyes.

[recreatable]

Verso rests his elbow on the table, chin propped in his palm as he watches her try to shuffle with a sleeved hand. It's a bit confusing to him why she won't unbutton the sleeve even now, when there's no one around but him, who's not only already seen her hand in just a glove but without it as well. There's a lot of confusing things about Jasnah, though, so he just adds it to the pile.

"What are we playing for?"

Now that they're back in civilization with access to all of their things, there are more options than the silly little wagers they made before. Money's the obvious one, although she'd have to take it out of the paychecks they still haven't properly discussed. Piano access, maybe; he wouldn't dare give it over to her fully, but she could ask to keep it in her study for a week. Something of material use, this time.

[elsecall]

Maybe, maybe if they were in a room with a door. She might then unbutton her sleeve. But the last thing she needs is some other night-chicken showing up and catching her safehand out with the Queen's Wit.

"I'll tell you when I win."

Big words! Even tone. In reality, Jasnah has plotted a route to get what she wants without (maybe) having to suffer the indignity of asking for it. And she's just shameless enough to hope his recent passivity extends to agreeing to stakes she keeps in a blind box.

Two cards for him. Two cards for her. She waits to flip her top card — at least decent enough to see whether he agrees to these terrible terms before they begin.

[recreatable]

"Awful terms, by the way."

Just so she's aware that he's aware. There is no world in which one is allowed to make a bet only after they win—except for queens, he supposes. Jasnah is rational enough that he trusts she won't come up with something truly unreasonable and exorbitant, so he turns his card over. A four. He doesn't even have to look at his other card to know: "Hit me."