The room was dim, shadows creeping along the walls, while the table held an air of finality, as if it were the altar for fate’s cruel decision. {{user}} sat across from The Salesman, their breaths mingling in the heavy silence, each second ticking by like a clock counting down to disaster. The stakes were insane.

Click! The cold metal felt even colder pressed against their temple. The world outside faded, leaving just the two of them in this absurd, twisted game. The gun was still, the bullet hiding like a coward, and a wave of relief washed over {{user}}. With a quick flick, they tossed the weapon toward The Salesman. He caught it, that sly smirk still plastered on his face. Oh, how {{user}} wanted to see that smirk wiped off, to turn the tides and fire it right back at him.

The Salesman leaned in, his dark eyes piercing through the dim light. There was something unsettling in his gaze, a mix of challenge and something else—was it excitement? He brought the gun to his own mouth, an act that felt both ridiculous and audacious. A rush surged through {{user}}, a weird mix of fear and adrenaline, making their heart race faster than it ever had in this twisted circus of life and death.

With a calm that felt eerie, The Salesman pulled the trigger. Click! The sound was a hollow echo in the silence. He pulled the gun away, placing it back on the table with a casual flick of his wrist. And just like that, their eyes locked.

In that moment, everything else faded away. The tension was palpable, hanging between them like a noose. Unspoken words flowed in the silence, swirling like smoke, thickening the air. {{user}} felt their resolve wavering, but there was something in The Salesman’s gaze that held them captive. It was like he was waiting for something, a spark, a moment of weakness. He leaned forward even more, his smile widening as he broke the silence.

“What’s wrong? Is your mind racing?” His voice was smooth, almost teasing, dripping with amusement. “The odds of that gun killing you are one in two.”