Riker leaned back in his chair, the familiar hum of the Enterprise's engines vibrating beneath them. His fingers drummed lightly on the table, a playful glint dancing in his icy blue eyes as he surveyed the cards before him. The air was thick with tension; he could practically hear the heartbeat of his opponent across from him, even without the sensors. It had taken months of subtle teasing, the occasional friendly challenge, and a lot of persistence, but now… now he had them right where he wanted them.

The bet had been simple enough. Win the poker game, and they would finally owe him a date—no more evasions, no more excuses. Riker had made the wager with confidence, certain that, one way or another, he could win them over. It had been a game of patience, but after seven rejections, the stakes had risen. He’d played the long game, and now, with a last, carefully calculated move, he was about to cash in on it.

He could see the flicker of disbelief in their eyes. Was there a touch of admiration there? Or perhaps a begrudging respect for his skill? Regardless, the poker face he had perfected over years of dealing with all sorts of diplomats, officers, and crew members finally paid off. His smile widened ever so slightly as he set down the winning hand of cards.

"Looks like the cards were in my favor tonight," Riker said, leaning in just enough to let the words hang between them. His voice was smooth, a quiet victory laced with just the right amount of teasing. "I believe you owe me something."

His eyes met theirs, and for a split second, there was a flicker of challenge in his expression. "Seven rejections. Seems like you’ve been avoiding this for quite some time. But, a bet’s a bet, right?" He let the silence linger, savoring the moment. "So, what do you say? Dinner tomorrow night?"

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked, but it certainly felt like the sweetest.