"I must confess, I thought he had you, there," I remark, taking a moment to peer at his face. His face is the same as the one to which I was tethered, that day; but on this island that does not count, overmuch. "Could it be that here we have the world's first honest card-sharp?"
Oh, great. It's the bleedin' frigid Victorian lesbian, back to haunt me another day. 'Course, she was Redford's problem, not mine, so I have to act as though I've never seen her before. S'not too hard, 'course, seein' as I've tried me hardest to forget that day.
"Yeah, that's me, sweetheart," I say, shruggin'. "Honest as...somethin' honest, me. Care to give it a go? Show these poor sods 'ere how it is you find a lady?"
I am inwardly amused at the implication that I am qualified at the finding, of ladies. But then, perhaps my paltry qualifications are superior, in that matter, to those of the gentlemen currently engaged in the game.
The trick, of course, is to deal only at the surface; once you are beyond the outer layer, what you have is no lady at all.
"Why not, then," I decided. "I take it there is nothing at stake? Given there is little or no stake to be had, in our present environment. Save pride, of course."
"So these two've told me," I say and it's all too easy to act annoyed at the lack o' an economy, even if I've had nearin' on seven months to get used to the idea. "Still, pride's as good as anythin'."
Madrox and 'Marlowe' make room for Maud, Madrox mutterin' somethin' I can't quite make out under his breath.
"Oi," I say, "no comments from the peanut gallery, eh?"
"It is certainly as valuable to some as any material possession," I agree, moving to sit in front of the table. I cast a glance at what was once the players, now the audience, and say, "Oh, surely the peanut gallery may talk amoungst themselves, if they've not the heart to let the performers hear their-no doubt incisive-commentary?"
"S'not exactly polite, though, now, is it?" I say, settin' the cards back on the table. I pick up me favoured Queen o' Spades and hold it up for her to see. "Talkin' while we're tryin' to have a conversation."
"Put like that, I suppose it is not," I say, being sure to keep my eyes trained upon the card, once I have been shown it. "Why, now that you mention it, if I were suspiciously minded I might wonder if one or the other were a compatriot, placed to distract a player from the shuffle of the cards, as it occurs."
"You callin' me a grifter, sweetheart?" I say, doin' me best to look a touch hurt by the accusation. I stop movin' the cards after a solid thirty seconds and wait expectantly. "Well?"
"Are you calling me suspicious?" I say, then, playing upon the if I placed previously. "Although I've not heard that term before; I daresay, though, that I can guess at its meaning. This one," I say, indicating the card on the left.-My left, I should say, our perceptions of such differing.
"No more, nor less, I think, than I am given cause to be," I say, frowning at the card; I suppose I must have missed it a pass or two, with the swiftness of the movements. "But as we have already established, what cause is there, for trickery, here?"
Excepting that is, the occasions and the minds to which the act is its own reward; that is, to a certain mind, and with certain acts.
"None at all," I agree, flippin' the card back over. 'Course, the truth o' the matter's simple, really, s'just a matter of professional pride. "Try again?"
"I believe I shall," I say, resolving to fixate with even greater tenacity upon the card in question; a simple parlour trick, surely, is no match for a steady eye matched with an active wit. I lean forward, a touch, as if a simple matter of inches will make a difference, in the ability of my eye to track the card.
S'hard not to smile, really. I mean, it doesn't matter how close it is she looks but it's nice to see someone give it a proper effort, yeah? Even if they are frigid, Victorian lesbians.
"The middle," I say. I am sure, this time; it must be the middle. Mustn't it? I try to count the shuffles in my head, and map their direction, before I give it up as futile. I can only wait and see.
At any rate, logic would dictate a one in three chance.
I turn over the indicated card and 'course it's not the lady since that's the whole point o' the game. Well, 'least it is from the grifter's perspective. Wouldn't do havin' the marks actually findin' her, after all. You'd lose a lot o' money that way.
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"Yeah, that's me, sweetheart," I say, shruggin'. "Honest as...somethin' honest, me. Care to give it a go? Show these poor sods 'ere how it is you find a lady?"
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The trick, of course, is to deal only at the surface; once you are beyond the outer layer, what you have is no lady at all.
"Why not, then," I decided. "I take it there is nothing at stake? Given there is little or no stake to be had, in our present environment. Save pride, of course."
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Madrox and 'Marlowe' make room for Maud, Madrox mutterin' somethin' I can't quite make out under his breath.
"Oi," I say, "no comments from the peanut gallery, eh?"
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Excepting that is, the occasions and the minds to which the act is its own reward; that is, to a certain mind, and with certain acts.
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"Well?"
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At any rate, logic would dictate a one in three chance.
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"Sorry, lass, no lady here."
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