A Genial Game: Day 26

[S] Read 'em and weep (26,491 / 1,000,000)

“Hurry up and deal, old man,” Meera grunted. She hooked her finger through the loop of an unmarked amber jug which sat on the floor beside her, and lifted it to her lips, drinking deeply. With a satisfied sigh, she returned the jug to the ground and leaned back in her seat. The faded silk upholstery of her armchair barely had any cushion left in it, but its sturdy wooden frame suggested a once fine craftmanship. The rickety table between Meera and her companion was piled high with glinting coins of gold and silver, jewels of various sizes and colors, and even a few ornate daggers. She pushed the wide, stiff brim of her hat back, and propped her feet up on the already packed table.

The whole room began a leisurely leftward lean, and a few coins slid off the pile and plinked onto the floor. The wooden walls around her creaked and groaned under stress for a few moments before the room began to rock back in the other direction. She loved the rocking of a ship at sea, it was like a child being rocked in a mother’s arms. Not that Meera’s mother had ever rocked Meera in her arms. No, her mother’s arms were too full of swords, men, bottles, women, and the occasional severed head, to hold Meera. Meera didn’t mind though; her mother had taught her how to be strong. How to rule. Besides, she always had the ship.

“Oi fucker, I can’t well shuffle with ye kickin’ the table ‘round like that,” her portly companion griped. Tavish, the man who sat across from her, wielded a prodigious gut which was barely restrained by a single brave button on his threadbare purple smoking jacket. His meaty paws manipulated the greasy cards with dexterity, and keen eyes glinted at her over rosy cheeks. She shot him a cheeky smile, and drummed the tabletop with her boots, trying to disrupt his shuffle. He broke into a grin at their familiar repartee, revealing a gleaming maw of golden teeth.

Tav, as she called him, finished his shuffle and flicked two cards to Meera, face down. He dealt himself the same, and placed the remainder of the deck on the table between them. Meera slid her cards across the uneven surface towards herself, keeping them face down. At the edge of the table, she curled the corners of the cards up just enough to steal a glance at them – a pair of Queens. She reached into one of many pockets on her simple frock coat, and produced a handful of gold coins to meet her minimum bet. Her face a stony mask of indifference, Meera looked up at her long-time friend and arched a single eyebrow.

“Your bet,” she said coolly.   

Tav’s demeanor did not change as he glanced from his cards to Meera, and back again. His rosy cheeks were still squeezed in a friendly grin as he unfastened a bulging leather sack from his belt, and dropped it on the table with a solid thunk. He set his cards face down on the table, and picked up an extravagantly decorated golden goblet. His eyes locked on hers, he tipped the goblet towards her in a salute before gulping down a few mouthfuls of wine.

Meera knew that Tav had an extremely wide range in a heads-up game like this. He had a reputation when it came to card games, and he took advantage of it. If she played passive, he would bully her out of every pot. I get lucky too sometimes, you old git, she thought to herself smugly. Suppressing her sense of satisfaction, she sat up and silently reached across the table and picked up the pouch of coins. She gave it a heft to determine its weight, and produced a pouch of similar value from another hidden pocket of her coat. Then she produced another. If she just called him, he would get suspicious.

“A raise? Oh, yer a right fucker eh,” Tav chuckled as he topped off his goblet.

Meera didn’t reply. She usually didn’t talk during a hand; she didn’t want to give anything away. Tav of course, could never shut up during a hand – the higher the stakes, the more he gabbed. It drove Meera crazy.

“You thought I might just be bullying you out of the pot, eh?” he hypothesized aloud.

Meera leaned back again and pulled the brim of her hat back down over her eyes, face impassive. He could guess all day; it didn’t change the right play. Meera ran the numbers quickly in her head. With pocket Queens in hand, the odds were astronomically in her favor. Numbers didn’t lie - in fact, they couldn’t. That’s what Meera loved about them. The numbers would lead her to the right play, if she just made sure to tally them up correctly. With pocket Queens, she should win four out of any five heads-up hands. The rest of her strategy should revolve around keeping Tav in the pot for as long as possible.

“Crunchin’ numbers over there are we? I keep telling ye, poker is a game of the spirit, not the mind,” he shook his head like an exasperated teacher with a troublesome pupil. He lifted another full leather pouch off the ground, and tossed it into the pot.

“It’s an easy call,” he quipped cheerfully. “Also, I have a surprise,” he added. He lifted a hand and twisted his wrist in a flourish. Two cut cigars appeared between his chubby fingers. A lit match was produced after a similar flick of his other hand. He passed a cigar over to Meera, and offered the match towards her. Meera sat up, her blank expression erased by a look of delight while she lit the stogie. He never went anywhere without her. He was on her bloody ship after all, how did he always manage to get his hands on tobacco? Meera thought to herself. It was always good tobacco too, this cigar being no exception. She took a puff and held the smoke in her mouth to appreciate the flavor, before exhaling.

“Let’s see the flop already, your money is calling my name,” Meera finally caved and spoke up. Tav bellowed a powerful chortle, and began flipping cards off the top of the deck.