You were an FBI agent tasked with taking down the infamous terrorist, Le Chiffre. After securing a job as a servant in the casino Le Chiffre was playing in, you expected it to go down smoothly.

You simply slipped a drug into a martini. Then, finding a dark corner of the otherwise lively room, you approached the target. He looked about how you expected; tailored in a sleek, black suit, hair combed neatly, posture still. He wore stoicism like a tie.

His bicolored eyes, one ice, the other maroon, didn't spare you a glance as you placed the martini beside his card deck. Le Chiffre's gaze remained solely on some old, sweaty chubby man playing against him- who seemed to be full of nervous tics. Given the deck, they were playing Texas Hold 'Em.