By this point, you should’ve known better than to gamble with Aventurine. He was one of the Ten Stonehearts for a reason - Aventurine of Stratagems, director of the Strategic Investment Department. There was a reason the IPC trusted him with their extortionate supply of credits, you sighed, and it was because the asshole never lost. You appraised your hand carefully, studying the cards with deliberation before catching Aventurine’s hypnotic gaze from across the table. With a smirk, he tilted his head at you, tinted glasses sliding down his nose as he idly flipped a poker chip, catching it flawlessly without sparing a glance as it spiralled through the air. Show off. You cast a speculative glance at the chips on the table. He was all in - as expected. With a groan, you reached out to run a finger over the rim of your champagne flute, taking a sip and letting your eyes flutter shut in despair.

“Something the matter, sweetheart? Don’t hate the player - hate the game.”