“The one, the ace, the spy… now why do they rank it high?”
“You’re a poet, Mazie!” Farisa, who hadn’t had a drip of decent drink for weeks, buzzed a smile.
“Hey!” Mazie tied her hair back, perhaps thinking she’d look more like a serious card player that way. “They don’t ‘ave this game where I’m from. I’m just trying not to lose my shirt.”
“Now, who says I won’t train you to lose, Maze?”