No do-overs, sorry. [ She snags her champagne and rolls the stem between her fingers, maybe-probably-definitely giving him a smug smile that's distorted by the rim of the glass. ] That ship has sailed.

[ Unless the dice say otherwise of course, but the chances of that combination happening again are vanishingly small. Curse the consequences of his own actions, huh? Bummer. Buuuuuuuuut in the interest of continuing... ]

The sooner my turn comes around, the sooner you might get a second taste, don't you think?

[ Is she wrong tho ]