Narquois

That’s got to be it - just a refusal to give up. There is absolutely no way that his opponent hasn’t busted.

He has to school his expression into indifference to keep himself calm. There’s a quiet, intense annoyance building behind his temples and he can feel the headache start to set in. He’ll need some aspirin in a few minutes.

"Your ability to do anything is irrelevant here. Unless you can somehow change the faces of the cards that are placed in front of you, there’s nothing you can do, short of counting the cards and praying to whatever God you believe in that you get the one you want." He’s icy, biting back all the caustic remarks he so intensely desires to make. "There’s a system you could use, sure, but if you’re not in control of the cards, there’s never going to be a one-hundred percent success rate, and therefore no reason to be so sure of yourself."

He has to take a deep breath, deep enough to feel one of the vertebrae in his back click into place. He doesn’t move to acquiesce this time. He refuses.

"I'm certain that I'm not really supposed to show you my cards. That's not how this game works; but if you insist, I guess I could let you see them so that you know how wrong you were about my hand." He slips his feet off the table, careful not to knock over his drink as he does so, and stands. 

Kamijo's smile remains ever present on his lips as he imagines the other's reaction when he sees his hand. He'd been so adamant that his hand could not possibly be what it was, and he couldn't wait to lay his cards out and disprove all of his suspicions. 

He lifts his free hand and motions for one of the barkeep’s helpers. “Bring him another, would you?” And the small woman scurries off to find another glass. She doesn’t know who he is, who either of them are, but the Boss has told her to listen to them. She’s not like this with the other customers, it looks like.

"I don’t have a reputation here. And nobody would believe you if you were intent on flaunting any victory you may miraculously achieve,” he says, “So I think I’m pretty safe. You, on the other hand…”

He lays down another card and shoots a sour look across the table. Five cards and he still hasn’t busted? Not likely. He shuffled the deck himself. The lower cards were evenly disbursed… Kamijo can’t have gotten them all; there’s still three-quarters of the deck left.

Once again, a white gloved hand glides across the table and quickly plucks the fifth card from the table. He takes a quick glance and slips the card into his other hand, behind the last card on the right. He gives a soft 'hm' before speaking and taps his lips in a mock thinking gesture. "Hit me again would you?"

His eyes once again lift from his cards to look at the man on the other end of the table. "Oh, attacking my counting skills now, are we?" As the waitress' hand leaves the cool glass of his drink, his hand takes the place of it. He quickly lifts it to his lips and takes a sip before sitting it back down gently on the table. "You can't see my cards now, can you? So how can you know if I've busted or not?"

He doesn’t give the other so much as a glance, despite being thoroughly repulsed by having the other man’s shoes on his table. He’s not exactly a germaphobe, but he’d definitely prefer not to have a bunch of mud on his pristine felt and hardwood.

His eyes narrow and he merely leans his chin against his hand, observing his own cards with a certain amount of disdain. At least, that’s what he’s conveying. An ace and a nine is probably going to win it for him.

He picks a card from the top of the deck and slides it over to the man, silently content in his situation.

He’s still well below twenty-one, so he figures it’s safe to go for another hit– Oh, who’s he kidding? Another hit is always safe when he’s the one playing. 

In the world of Yuuji Kamijo, risk doesn't exist and neither does luck, and that is something his opponent will have to find out the hard way. Everything happens on purpose, not because he's in the right place at the right time. Everything happens because he can make it happen, not because a wind of good fortune blows his way.