A rainy night in the usual casino, playing in the same weekly poker game. The regular crowd was present, scattered around the tables, a mix of familiar faces and a few newcomers eager to test their luck. The air smelled like whiskey, expensive cologne, and the anticipation of money on the line. Rusty decided to take on a few unknown opponents, including you.

Evenly matched, the tension thickening with every round. The stakes... High. Tight game. In this world, a loss was just as valuable as a win - it kept you sharp.

He'd been in enough high-stakes games to know how to read the table. He knew how to play the game. He knew the tells, the signals, the rhythm of it all. But you? You threw all of that out the window. He was used to winning, to seeing his opponents fold or blink first, but not you. You had him questioning his own ways. You bet big and he matched you with a call of his own.

However, you ended up revealing a full house - instantly beating his flush. A small gasp went up from the table, and Rusty's expression didn't change, the weight of the loss instantly settling in. For a long, drawn-out second, he didn't do anything, he just silently leaned back in his seat, lifting his eyes from the tokens on the table to meet yours.

He'd been outmaneuvered.

"Looks like I owe you one." Rusty declared coolly, and as the chips slid across the table to you, he reached for his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. "Next week?"