It wasn't right, Luxord thought, sitting on his bed slowly. Cyan eyes glanced around his own room, white walls boring as always. They were barely distinguishable from any other member's room, only made unique by a few trinkets here and there: Cards stolen from old taverns, shotglasses from the same. An old, tattered flag from, presumably, his home hung on one wall. It wasn't right, his mind continued. This redhead, this filthy, foul-mouthed creature could not possibly have bested him at a game. Him! He was the Gambler of Fate, for the Lady's sake. Still, this young man, barely more than a boy by his reckoning, this Reno had caught his attention.
It hadn't started out this way. It was only one time, one idle one-night-stand that had meant nothing. But one night turned to two, and two to a month, and so on. They'd beguiled each other with words, and ploys, twisting motives like ribbons around the other, tangling themselves in a web of intrigue and deceit, till neither could distinguish the game from emotion, be it false or true, anymore.
Luxord sighed again. It wasn't right, he finished in his own mind, because he'd both lost and won. "I love you," Reno had muttered. And how could the Gambler react to that, really? He could have taken his heart then, spared himself any further trouble, but that would mean losing his favorite plaything. Or he could, as he'd done, keep him alive, but that would mean admitting that he 'felt something' for Reno.
It wasn't right.
