"I'm in."
Wilson pushed a stack of multi-colored chips into the center of the table, his eyes locking onto the back of House's cards.
The snarky doctor lifted his eyes, rolling his tongue around the end of his unlit cigar as he studied the chips in front of him.
Before the game had started the two men had made a deal. Whoever won would win the money, and the girl; Lisa Cuddy.
Each chip meant something different. Not only did it mean how much money they were betting but they were betting what they would be giving up.
A five meant that you couldn't stare at her ass; a ten meant you couldn't stare at her breasts; twenty-five meant you couldn't make any sexual comments; fifty meant no touching, even in a friendly manner; a hundred meant no dates, not even if it was a business dinner; and a five hundred meant that you had to avoid her at all costs. And the less of the chips you had, the closer to losing those privileges you were.
The game was on, and both men were eager to win, and all the while Cuddy was completely oblivious.
She was well aware that most of the men that worked for her had had some sort of sexual fantasy about her at one point in time, but she made a point not to egg it on. She had enough problems without having to worry about affairs with her employees.
House pulled the cigar to the other side of his mouth, watching as Cuddy lifted her glass, g the red straw into her mouth, and taking a long sip. She was no doubt tipsy. She'd sucked down at least five of those girly drinks since the night had started, and they'd been there just shy of an hour.
"I call."
He pushed in the same amount of chips that Wilson had, tapping his cane on the floor.
Cuddy was lost in her own little drunken world, staring at the suit of her cards until she was nudged.
"Hmm?"
She asked in a sing-songy voice, her eyebrows lifting a bit.
"I called."
"Oh! Right!"
She studied her cards, then the chips in the middle of the table, a concentrated look on her face. It wasn't that big of a pot, and the two men she was playing with had the worst tells of anyone she'd ever played with. But the fact that her mind was substantially slower do to the alcohol made it almost impossible for her to tell the difference between a smile and a twitch.
"Uhhh...I fold."
Both men looked at each other with their eyebrows knitted together before turning to look at Cuddy.
She was normally a fantasic card player. She'd been wiping the table with them with they first started, and now she seemed to have forgotten how to play all together.
"No...call means I want to see your cards."
"Oh!"
Her fingers fought to grab at the cards, and after a long battle she was finally able to get them to flip back over.
She had a pair of threes, and nothing else.
House smirked as he looked over at Wilson, pulling his cigar from his mouth to give him a smartass grin.
The oncologist felt a bit tense. There was a lot at stake. He would lose money, he would lose the girl, and he would possibly lose his best friend. He was starting to wonder if it was really worth it when he heard Cuddy's laugh. It turned his lips up into a smile, and he slapped his cards down onto the table.
It was definately worth it.
He had a straight. A straight of one suit no less. It was the first time in his life he'd ever been able to pull that off, and he had been playing since college. He had it in the bag.
House chuckled, shaking his head, and stuck his cigar back in his mouth. He laid his cards down one at a time.
A ten of clubs, a jack of clubs, a queen of clubs, a king of clubs...
Wilson held his breath. There was no way he had a royal flush. It was impossible. That was like winning the lottery ten times in a row. But something told him that House wouldn't be laughing like that otherwise.
House flicked the last card on top of the chips, that smug smirk still on his lips.
Wilson glanced at it, his heart sinking the moment he saw it.
The ace of clubs. He lost. What else was new.
"I told ya...the House always wins."