7. Chapter Seven #2
Willy was the easiest of the bunch to read, mostly because he would get distracted and lower his hand so his cards would show.
2 He was clearly no threat. Croydon had a good poker face and was probably a decent player under normal circumstances, but he seemed intent on trying to brush against my legs underneath the table as much as possible—no doubt, to try and distract me from my game, though he was the one who seemed unable to maintain his focus.
LeFleur had the most obvious expressions whenever he drew a card, and I could tell that he wasn’t happy with the way things were going this round.
Burt and Val were the real competition. Throughout the many hands of the game, both had managed to avoid giving tells of any kind—except that neither could quite hide their surprise, then irritation, at how well I was doing.
It was obvious they’d expected me to be easy prey, but I was holding my own rather well, if I do say so myself.
What I can recall specifically was my hand that round—four of a kind, jacks. I hadn’t been this lucky yet in the game, and I knew it was time to press my advantage.
When Croydon seemed to be playing with the possibility of folding, looking down at his dwindling pile of chips, I cleared my throat. “Are we allowed to bet objects as well?”
Val exchanged a glance with Burt. “What did you have in mind?” the quartermaster asked finally.
“I have some mushrooms I’d be willing to trade.” When I saw their eyes immediately begin to glaze over, I hastened to add, “Psychedelic mushrooms.”
That hooked Croydon, just as I’d hoped it might. He straightened, leaning forward. “What about items of clothing—?”
“No,” Val, Burt, and I all said at the same time.
I cleared my throat again. “But if you have any object of worth you’d like to trade . . . maybe a sunlamp?”
All night, I’d been mentally rehearsing how best to bring up the sunlamp in conversation, how not to tip my hand too much at just how desperately I wanted it. Despite that, I could tell that Val had clocked me. I felt her eyes on me, assessing.
Croydon cooed, “Aww, honey, if you need something to keep you warm, I’d be happy to volunteer.”
“It’s for Ursa,” I told him sweetly, “but I’ll be happy to pass on your offer to him.”
Burt and LeFleur both chuckled at that. I looked up at Val to see her giving me a wry, almost reluctant smile, though behind it, her eyes still tracked my expression closely. “What does Ursa need with a sunlamp?”
I hadn’t meant to make Ursa’s troubles so publicly known. Blinking, I turned my focus fixedly back to my cards. “It’s his first time in space. He could use a little vitamin D, that’s all.”
I didn’t need to look at the others to know I likely hadn’t convinced them. It didn’t matter, though. If Croydon took the bait, I only needed to get through this round, collect on my sunlamp, then quit the game.
“Think I’ll hold on to my sunlamp.” Croydon leaned back, putting down his cards to show that he folded. At my dismayed expression, he grinned. “Maybe there are other ways a person could get hold of it, if she really got desperate enough.”
What ways? I stared at him in consternation. If he wanted me to take his turn cleaning the washroom or cooking some meals, I would happily do so, as long as Ursa got that sunlamp.
Before I could make the offer, though, Val surprised me by speaking up. “I’ll wager mine.” At Burt’s look, she shrugged at him. “What? If I lose it, you’ll share with me, won’t you, sweetie?”
Taken aback, I looked between them. I hadn’t noticed any romantic interactions before, but I suppose they made sense together. They looked to be roughly the same age, and both were very good at scowling judgmentally. Plus these long-haul flights could get rather lonely.
Burt didn’t say anything, just grunted a little and shoved in his pile of chips.
LeFleur folded after that. Willy, Val, Burt, and I each took our last card, even though I didn’t need to do so. Holding my four of a kind, I was thrumming with nervous energy, eager to claim my victory, collect my sunlamp, and get back to Ursa.
Willy played his hand first. He had a pair of something—I think it might have been tens?—but he was easily beaten by Burt, who had a full house.
It was my turn next. With trembling hands, I laid down my four of a kind. I heard Burt’s grumble and the other men’s commentary, but it was Val who I was watching. I needed to see in her expression whether I’d beaten her or not.
The flicker in her eyes, the way she bit down on her lip, the dart of her glance down to her own hand told me I had not.
To my amazement, though, Val sighed and laid her cards face-down on the table. “Ah, well. Better luck next time.”
I stared at her, uncomprehending. Had I simply misread her? Or had she just pretended to lose? But . . . why?
No matter. Blinking, I rose to my feet, scraping together my winnings. “I’ll take that sunlamp now, please.”
Some of the men at the table grumbled at me for leaving after my big win, but Val led me back to her quarters without fuss.
Once we were alone, I cleared my throat, wondering how to best broach the subject of what had just happened.
I realized now there were no two ways about it; she had all but given me her sunlamp—first by betting it when she’d had enough chips that she didn’t need to do so, then by throwing her hand.
“Thank you for . . .” I paused, not knowing if it would be gauche for me to tell her I knew what she’d done. “. . . the lamp,” I finished awkwardly.
Val met my gaze coolly. “No need for thanks. You won it fair and square.”
It was possible, I suppose, that I’d done so. Possible that I’d misread the moment. But even now, I don’t think I did. I think it was a spontaneous act of kindness that perhaps took even Val by surprise.
But sensing that any further display of gratitude would only annoy her, I took my sunlamp, said good night, and hurried down the hall.
1. These are the details the Brethren care about, but they complain every time I try to describe a gorgeous devil’s tooth (Hydnellum peckii). Make it make sense!
2. Not the brightest Panellus stipticus of the bunch, Willy.