There are easier and more consistent ways of making chips, [Matoba responds, precise and a little curt.] I think that you will soon find- even among the high-rollers, these games are not played for such a simplistic thing.
[Are they ever? Is money alone enough to quench the thirst of someone who chooses high-stakes living? Thrills of all kinds could be found in this resort, but after a while, one's senses are dulled to the littler things. The stakes can only climb higher and higher.]
[Though, that also is not why Matoba is here.]
[He watches Shylock like a hawk, staring downward at prey even though he's the one being snacked on, yet again. As Shylock examines the various bites and traces them with his fingertips, skin shivers just the slightest. He's not wrong on most of his reads. The deepest bite, one that has scarred, was from the one that despite his state of denial had gone so far as to lay claim to him. The nips came from one that was trying to get one up over on him, even though Matoba was always the one that found a way to worm annoyance under his skin, tit for tat.]
[The marks seem like they were made over a span of time- some fresher and more recent, and others months old. A long and torrid history plays out among them. And now Shylock can join them. What sort of impression will he choose to leave?]
[Shylock might not be here to pschoanalyze, but Matoba is watching to make exactly that sort of read. It isn't too hard, but it isn't shy, either. A simple impression, with a little flick of playful tenderness at its end. Inscrutable. How vexing.]
I'm sure it will count, [Matoba agrees, and closes his knees to tidy his kimono back over his hips.] Are you satisfied with it?
[He reaches forward to take the dice for himself, awaiting Shylock's answer before he rolls.]
no subject
[Are they ever? Is money alone enough to quench the thirst of someone who chooses high-stakes living? Thrills of all kinds could be found in this resort, but after a while, one's senses are dulled to the littler things. The stakes can only climb higher and higher.]
[Though, that also is not why Matoba is here.]
[He watches Shylock like a hawk, staring downward at prey even though he's the one being snacked on, yet again. As Shylock examines the various bites and traces them with his fingertips, skin shivers just the slightest. He's not wrong on most of his reads. The deepest bite, one that has scarred, was from the one that despite his state of denial had gone so far as to lay claim to him. The nips came from one that was trying to get one up over on him, even though Matoba was always the one that found a way to worm annoyance under his skin, tit for tat.]
[The marks seem like they were made over a span of time- some fresher and more recent, and others months old. A long and torrid history plays out among them. And now Shylock can join them. What sort of impression will he choose to leave?]
[Shylock might not be here to pschoanalyze, but Matoba is watching to make exactly that sort of read. It isn't too hard, but it isn't shy, either. A simple impression, with a little flick of playful tenderness at its end. Inscrutable. How vexing.]
I'm sure it will count, [Matoba agrees, and closes his knees to tidy his kimono back over his hips.] Are you satisfied with it?
[He reaches forward to take the dice for himself, awaiting Shylock's answer before he rolls.]