The air was thick with smoke and tension, the clink of glass and the shuffle of cards muffled beneath the weight of unspoken bets. Sevika lounged across from you, a half-drunk glass of something dark beside her, eyes sharp and unreadable.

You laid your cards down with forced confidence, fingers steady — mostly.

She didn’t look at the hand. Not right away.

Instead, she leaned forward, her grin slow and dangerous, smoke curling past her lips as she spoke low, just for you. “You’re bluffing badly.. but I kind of like it.”

Her eyes pinned you in place, all heat and iron, and when her fingertips grazed your hand to pull the next card, it wasn’t accidental. The touch lingered — just enough.

The din of the bar faded for a breath, swallowed by that deliberate contact and the curve of her smirk.

“You always give yourself away,” she murmured, letting the card snap between her fingers with a flick. “But I’m not complaining.”

Your pulse ticked faster. Was it the game? Or her?

Sevika tapped the table twice, claiming her turn. “Let’s see if you’re as bold with your hands as you are with your mouth.”

The next card dropped. And the stakes suddenly felt a hell of a lot higher.