This is Prompt No. 22-Poker

Mitchie choked on a sip of her colored water. "Wh-what?" she asked, confused.

"That's your mission," Caitlyn said in a low voice. "You can't back out now, Lieutenant Perry. There's no one else to do it around here."

"What about you?" Mitchie asked desperately. Oh if only she had paid more attention to the general's instructions! She hadn't realized that she was being prepped when he had asked her to play with him.

Caitlyn shook her head. "I'd blow my cover if I tried to play." She slid off Mitchie's lap, pressing a small stack of cards into Mitchie's hand as she did so. "You can't lose with those. Remember, he cheats," she said quietly before turning back to the bar, casting Mitchie one, last flirtatious smile, should anyone be watching.

Mitchie turned back to look at the men seated around the table, and couldn't help but gulp. They were all rough, beady-eyed men who had put on shiny vests and overcoats in the hopes of looking more presentable, and thus being more feared. Mitchie slipped the cards into her pocket, making sure that her hands were under the bar so that no one could see.

All of the sudden, Mitchie was forcing herself not to panic. Though she had been trained all summer, she still feared that she wouldn't be able to take on an actual criminal, or a person dedicated to stopping her. Her hands grew clammy and she rubbed them together, trying to get some of the blood back into them.

"I can do this," she finally said. All doubt about her abilities was pushed aside as she hopped down from the barstool.

She then began weaving through the crowd of people gathered, begging anyone's pardon when she happened to bump them. Finally, she came to stand in front of the table where Nigel Lipsce and he partners were seated. They were just dealing out the cards when Mitchie used every ounce of courage to ask, "Mind if I play with you gentlemen?"

Nigel looked up, surprised, with his cigar halfway to his mouth. He eyed the young man in front of him, his eyes focusing on the color of his uniform, the condition it was in, and the kind of boots he wore, for if anything was out of place, he would know that this young man was a spy. However, he found nothing and simply nodded, opening his meaty hands in a sweeping gesture.

"Of course!" he cried. "We're delighted to have another player, aren't we, boys?"

The others muttered their agreement and one spoke up. "There's too many people now," he said. "We'll have to use two decks."

Nigel waved his hand toward the one that had spoken. "Then find another deck!" he exclaimed, as though that was the easiest notion in the world.

Mitchie noticed him studying her, so she said, half rising from the seat she had sat down in, "I wouldn't want to impose on you all. I suppose I can find another game around here somewhere." She looked dryly around at the tables, where almost everyone was playing some kind of card game.

Nigel laughed, the sound sounding very much like braying. "No, no," he said, waving Mitchie back into her seat. "Sit. You're not a bother at all. Hank will just go find us another deck, won't you, Hank?"

Hank grumbled, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he stood suddenly, making his chair wobble. His eyes fixed in Mitchie for a moment, and then he shouldered past her, making her drop her glass of water. "Oh!" she exclaimed as the water sloshed over the table. "I'm sorry about that."

Nigel glared at his puppet and snapped his fingers. "Get a towel and another glass for the lieutenant as well," he ordered.

Hank only muttered, "Yes, boss."

When he had left, Nigel turned to Mitchie and began to ask her questions. "So which division are you stationed in, Lieutenant…" he trailed off, indicating that he didn't know her name.

"Perry," Mitchie supplied. "William Perry of the fourth division of the Confederate Army, at your service."

Nigel nodded. "Small division," he remarked.

Mitchie found her opportunity and nodded. "Yup," she said with a slight laugh. "One of the smallest there is for the Confederates. Me and my buddies were just talking about that the other day. We couldn't figure out which division was the biggest. Do you know?"

Nigel laughed and put up his hands. "Hey," he said, still chuckling. "There's something you should know about me, Lieutenant Perry." He grinned as he took a drag of his cigar. "I always mix business with pleasure."

Mitchie understood. He wouldn't say anything unless it could be said over a poker game. She mentally cursed herself for thinking that he might be that stupid as to give her an easy out without having to play. "I understand," she said with a winning smile. "We'll talk later?"

Nigel nodded and sat back in his chair. "Yes we shall," he said.

Mitchie turned and saw Hank accepting two drinks from another bartender, not Caitlyn, and she gulped. How was she going to drink whatever Hank had ordered for her? She'd never drunk alcohol in her life. But she didn't have much time to think about it, for he was already weaving around the tables and plunking the drink before her. "Thanks," she said.

Hank nodded and Nigel raised his shot glass in Mitchie's direction. "Cheers," he said. "It's on me."

Mitchie nodded, the action thanking him for a drink she hadn't wanted. She raised her glass slightly and then took a sip, stopping most of the liquid with her tongue from burning its way down her throat. She set the glass back down and turned to Nigel. "Shall we begin?"

Nigel nodded, pulling out his pocket watch and checking the time before he put it back and settled his arms over his ample stomach. "Of course," he said. "Do we have some money for the pot?"

Mitchie took out the notes Caitlyn had handed her and tossed them flippantly onto the table, right in the middle of the circle of men. "Will that cover my share?" she asked coolly.

The look on Nigel's face told Mitchie that it was more than enough.

A/N: What do you think is going to happen next? Let me know!