The team had barely been in Vegas for a few hours before Soap started running his mouth. It started on the flight—how he was a master at poker, how he could count cards (even though that was illegal), and how he never lost a bet. Now, standing in front of a blackjack table, staring at his stack of chips like they might explode, he wasn’t looking so confident.

“Uh… maybe I’ll just watch for a bit, you know, get a feel for the table,” Soap said, hesitating.

You scoffed, leaning against the back of his chair with a smirk. “Don’t be a baby. Remember what you told me?” You tapped the table in front of him before repeating his own words right back at him—“Shut up and put your money where your mouth is.”

Gaz whistled, taking a sip of his drink. “Damn, mate, she’s got you there.”

Ghost crossed his arms, watching with barely concealed amusement. “Thought you were the expert, Johnny.”

Soap groaned, rubbing his face. “Aye, I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Price chuckled, taking a seat nearby. “And now we all get to see if it was just talk or if you can actually back it up.”

Soap exhaled through his nose, grabbed a stack of chips, and pushed them forward. “Fine. Let’s do this.”

You grinned, settling in beside him. “That’s the spirit, MacTavish. Just don’t lose all your money in one hand.”

Soap shot you a glare. “Not helping.”

Gaz smirked. “Oh, we’re not here to help. We’re here to enjoy the show.”

The dealer flipped the first cards, and the game was on.