After waking up from his forcibly induced sleep, Luxord's first coherent thought is that maybe he should have departed earlier. At this point, his bruised brain is willing to admit that winning has become an addiction. Of course, that shouldn't be the problem. The real problem, however, is the reason why his realized addiction isn't the real problem. The real problem is that he doesn't lose. Okay, that's never exactly been his problem. It's everyone else who seems to take offense at his particular brand of luck. And, he supposes that that makes it his problem -- or at least as much of a problem as a gunshot to the back of the head could cause.

So, logically, the thought that immediately follows is that gun barrels have no right to be this cold in a room this hot.

"Man, I'm askin' you one last time. You haveta be cheating. I just wanna know how."

"I don't believe I understand." Right, just play it dumb in the hope that this crony just, you know, loses interest. It's a fool's hope, however. A five hundred thousand dollar loss is a lot to swallow for any casino owner, and Xemnas has never been known to let money just waltz out the door. It's beginning to look like Luxord's luck won't be holding out.

The man with the gun laughs. "You're kidding me, do I have to spell it out for you? No one's that lucky. Everyone knows the whole fucking set-up is rigged. The house has to make money. We're not some fucking charity, you know. We're a business. Sometimes someone hits it big, and we swallow the loss knowing they beat the odds. But when some punkass foreigner decides to show up and cheat his way to half a million, we have a problem." There's hot breath on his neck, and he can't suppress the shiver that runs down his spine, or the flutter in his chest. "One more time, Brit-dude. How do you do it?"

Luxord swallows hard. The blindfold is beginning to make him feel claustrophobic. "What if I told you it's fate?"

"Fate?" Another laugh. "You gotta come up with something better than that, or you'll find out it's your fate to get a bullet in your skull." The gun barrel's gone now, but its owner is still in the room. Footsteps echo off the tile walls, and end up in front of him. "Let's try something else." And suddenly the blindfold is gone, and there's a blurry face right in front of his own. "What's your name?"

He considers the question, and the consequences of not answering it. "Luxord."

"No last name, eh? I like that. I'm Xigbar. Now that we've been properly introduced, I don't feel quite so bad about this." A flare of pain dances across his face, and it feels as though a couple of his teeth have been knocked loose. The taste of copper is faint, but definitely there. "You have anything else to say about fate?"

Luxord raises his eyes to meet Xigbar's. "Not particularly, no." The man is much older than him, with a scar running down one side of his face. He's also missing one of his eyes, or so Luxord assumes, considering the other man is wearing an eyepatch. The remaining eye is the most peculiar color he's ever seen -- gold. Either this hasn't been his life's work, or the man has gotten into a lot of fights in his lifetime. Generally one didn't get scars when they were the ones inflicting them upon hapless victims, like himself.

"Good. Now, come on. I'm getting tired of his game. Just tell me how you do it, so I can tell Xemnas, so he can tell me whether or not to kill you. Personally, man, I hope he lets you go. But, understand, it's not my decision."

Luxord doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry. "You don't give me much incentive. Either I tell you, and I live or die at the whim of a madman, with the latter being the more likely. Or I stay silent, and stay alive for at least as long as I am of interest. Not that there's anything to tell."

Xigbar laughs again, and Luxord thinks that if he wasn't already mad, he might be teetering on the edge. "At least you're not an idiot. That raises your chances." And suddenly he's knelt down and is in his face, gold eyes boring into his and all pretense of levity gone. "Maybe you're telling the truth, and you're lucky. But I don't think so. I think you had a plan, and this wasn't part of it, and if you want to live to go rip off another casino, you better tell me how the hell you did this."

"I don't have an answer you'll like."

"Try me."

"Get a die. Bring it here. Let me roll it--"

"I'm not going to play your games. I'm thinking maybe we should've just killed you outright, an' saved me the trouble." Xigbar's angry now, with a frown etched onto his face. "Do you think I'm an idiot? 'Cause if you start this shit now, there'll be no telling what's gonna happen." The controlled language of his captor began to break down as his anger grows. "So stop fucking around, and give me a real answer."

"It's the only answer I have!" Luxord's feeling increasingly endangered. Trust Lady Lucky to give him an unstable man to have to convince. Really, he's not cut out for this shit. "Trust me and if I'm lying you can shoot me now and never have to hear my voice again."

There's a calculating look on the other man's face. He doesn't really trust Luxord, not at all, but this is going nowhere and he knows it. He's holding his gun in loose hands, staring at it vacantly. "All right, man," he says slowly. "But if you're fucking around with me, I'll make you wish you weren't alive. And then you'll face Xemnas. And then you'll be dead."

And suddenly Luxord is faced with the sardonic grin that Xigbar's plastered on his face. "I'm not, as you say, fucking around," he says with a matching grin of his own, finally in control of his situation.

"I hope not. I really don't want to kill you." Xigbar traces his cheekbone with the revolver before leaning in to whisper in Luxord's ear. "You're too fucking pretty." And then he's up and half-way across the room, almost at the door before he turns around and winks at him. "I'll be back, Luxy."

As the door closes, Luxord's fighting to keep his grin from splitting his face. Fate, luck, what have you, seems to have been smiling on him once again.