[Without the obstruction of glasses, it's easier to see the man's eyes, though he dares meet them only for a moment. Their color surprises him, like looking into the refraction of a sunset somewhere between gold and red.]

I don't need to say it, do I?

[He knows. Both of them know, because they're surrounded — every gilded angle of a cage created on the premise of value. Indecent, entirely physical. Intimate.]

You'll be disappointed if you're interested in my card. I haven't yet been assigned a rank or a suit. [Useless in the context of the Game, as he understands it. Sunday keeps his voice carefully toneless.] ... But even if I did have those things, I couldn't. I — can't.