Two Cats

Chapter 25

“Now this is the life, is it not?” Theo gestured expansively at the contents of the table in front of him with a hearty grin, the stub of what remained of his lightly oiled cigar leaving cobwebs of smoke in the air as he did so. “Just kicking back in a chair, relaxing, and reaping the rewards that your hard work has earned you. Almost makes up for life's little annoyances, like getting the living tar soundly beaten out of you. A truly spectacular meal, followed by brandy and wine of equal, uh ... spectacularity,” he said, frowning slightly at the last word he'd spoken. “And, to top things off, we have these amazing cigars smuggled in all the way from Alledesh - purest tobacco and tana leaf, rolled and dried to perfection before being lovingly dipped in something very, very unhealthy for us.” He puffed gently on the aforementioned cigar, producing clouds of smoke around his satisfied looking face. “Yep ... as moments go, this one doesn't suck. The only thing I can think of that could possibly make this evening any better-”

He stopped talking mid-sentence as I leaned forward over the table, reaching out to pluck the card second on the left from the collection of similar cards in his hand. I saw a ghost of a wince come from him as I did, and felt the faintest phantom tug of resistance as I purposefully lifted that particular card from his grip. Turning it towards me, I smiled.

“Three Ladies, two of them natural, ten chaser,” I said, placing the four card hand I'd announced onto the table before discarding my remaining four, face-up.

“...would be if I could actually win a hand or two, you ash-snorting little cheese-weasel!” he said disgustedly, shaking his head as he allowed his remaining cards to drop face-down before him. “That's three times you've had three knights or better in a row! I don't understand it ... it's like the cards are marked or something.”

“Theo,” I said, trying not to grin too fiercely, “they're your cards. We always play with your cards.”

“Which is why I don't understand it, like I said. I mean, logic dictates that I can't lose every hand, right?”

“What I don't understand Lord Tucat, if you play cards every week as you'd mentioned earlier,” said Cyrus, who had carefully put down his own cigar and was leaning forward to inspect the four cards I'd just discarded, “is how you do not own half of Lord Haundsing's territory by now.”

“Is he always such a smart-ass?” said Theo, thumbing a gesture at Cyrus.

“He's off duty right now. Otherwise I'm sure he'd be the very picture of decorum and courtesy.” I looked at my softly chuckling Captain, whose eyes went from his own hand to the cards I'd discarded and back before he opted to draw a single card from the deck. Cyrus looked at it briefly, sighed a lightly intoxicated sigh, and lay his hand face-down on the table.

“Fold,” he said to me before turning his head slightly and raising an inquisitive eyebrow at Theo. “And perhaps I'm just being a smart-ass to make up for having been called a 'timid, simpering, door-mouse of a lackey' in public two weeks ago by a certain large, bearded Lord I could mention.”

I looked to the large, bearded Lord in question, who was busy inspecting the ceiling innocently.

“Theo,” I admonished.

“Well?” he said, defensively, “I have to do what I an to maintain the act, don't I? Plus, you should have heard the comment he made about the tunic I was wearing that day!”

“You should have seen it!” Cyrus said in a voice that was a little more exuberant and relaxed than usual, likely facilitated by the evening’s wine. He shook his head in mock sorrow. “It was orange. Errr, well ... orange-ish at least, with-”