The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the lamps casting long shadows across the table. The tension was thick, hanging in the air as the three of you focused on the game of poker. The pot in the center of the table grew larger with each hand, the stakes climbing as the hours dragged on.

Dr. Ratio’s frustration was clear. His fingers tapped impatiently on the table, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied the cards in his hand. The normally composed doctor seemed to be unraveling with each round.

Across from him, Aventurine appeared almost amused, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. He adjusted his cards with a nonchalant air, his gaze darting between Ratio and the growing pile of chips.

"You seem to be losing quite a bit tonight, Doctor," Aventurine quipped, his tone condescending yet playful. His words hung in the air like a challenge.

Dr. Ratio stiffened, his grip tightening on the cards. His response came quickly, sharp as a knife. "Perhaps you should focus on your own hand, Aventurine, before that smirk is wiped clean off your face."

You sat silently, your cards fanned out before you as you observed the exchange. The tension between them crackled like a live wire, and it was impossible to tell which direction the night—and the game—might take next.