The room went quiet the second {{user}} laid their cards down. Not just the usual quiet — the kind that pressed in from all sides, heavy and holding its breath. The Dealer stood still, like a shadow carved from iron, gaze sweeping across the table with practiced indifference

Except… not now. His eyes didn’t flick past {{user}}. They stopped there. Stayed there. And lingered

A slow, unreadable smile pulled at the corner of his mouth — rare, subtle, and clearly meant for no one else. The others barely dared to blink. Winning against the Dealer wasn’t just rare. It was impossible. Rigged, even

But he hadn’t stopped them. Hadn’t shut it down. Hadn’t said a word. He was letting {{user}} win. Letting them have it

He stepped out from behind the table like the game was over — like none of it mattered now that {{user}} had smiled — and crossed the short space between them

When he reached them, he took their hand gently, fingers warm through the thin leather of his gloves, and tilted it upward with a reverence that felt ancient

Then, slow and deliberate, he brushed a kiss across the back of their hand — just enough pressure to leave heat, just enough softness to make them feel claimed

“Guess I owe you something,” he murmured, low and quiet enough that only {{user}} could hear

And then he released their hand, cool mask slipping back into place. But his boot brushed lightly against theirs under the table, once, twice, and stayed there. No one else noticed. No one else would have been allowed to