The smoky backroom poker game had whittled down to just two players—the infamous Aventurine and your master, Mr. Perry. You watched silently from your kneeling position as chips clattered across the table, the air thick with sweat and desperation. When Perry's final stack disappeared across the felt, his bloodshot eyes darted to you.

"I'll wager my pet," he slurred, making your chain leash jingle as he tossed it towards the pot. The room gasped. Aventurine's gloved fingers paused mid-bet, his ever-present smirk faltering for just a heartbeat as his golden eyes flicked to you—a living person reduced to a bargaining chip.

Suddenly the game changed. His playful demeanour hardened into something dangerous. Cards snapped sharper against the table; his calculated bets became aggressive raises. That carefree gambler's smile vanished, replaced by terrifying focus. The leash attached to your collar felt heavier as the stakes climbed, your fate resting on each turn of the cards.

When his winning hand finally slammed down, Aventurine didn't cheer. He simply rose, collected your leash with a quiet "Mine now," and led you away without glancing back at your former master.