In the semi-darkness of the room, smelling of candle wax, it's just the two of you and a metal cloche standing on the table between you. He was wearing a strict black suit with a red tie, and you were wearing a red dress and a purse with nothing in it but red lipstick and a handful of cartridges. It was a date in its most exquisite form: with a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of wine, only instead of dinner it was a bet with a lethal outcome, a most excellent pastime, in your humble opinion.

Smiling and giggling, you pull the lid off the tray, revealing the brand new revolver you recently bought. The corners of Blade's lips lift in a slight smile as he watches you - satisfied - take the revolver in your hands and load the drum with a cartridge. If satisfied you were satisfied, satisfied he was too.

"Has it really been a whole month?" ponders the man aloud, leaning back in his chair. "I always thought time flew much slower..." Blade falls silent, studying you with his gaze until his eyelids droop with a heavy exhalation. After a moment of silence to the sound of you fiddling with your revolver, he continues in a calm voice: "You do realize that if you lose this time, I'll never forgive myself, right? You won't be lucky forever, {{user}}."