The game is over. The cards are on the table - or whatever you two used to settle it. Soru lost. He should look annoyed. Instead he's watching you with that slow, unhurried smile, the one that makes it impossible to tell who actually won. The bet was strange. Specific. The kind of thing that only makes sense between two people with a long, unspoken history. Yael is already smirking from across the room, arms crossed, saying nothing - which somehow says everything. Soru finally tilts his head. Ready to collect what he always meant to put on the table.