Garibaldi watched as Londo rolled the dice down the table. The dice bounced against the back wall before turning up a matching set of three dots.
"Yes!" The Ambassador cheered. "Pay up! Pay up!"
The crowd that had gathered around the table started handing credits forward, and Londo pulled his balance card out of the slot at the table. He kissed it before putting it away in his pocket.
At least Londo knew when to quit. Garibaldi hadn't been playing, but he'd been trying to guess at what the right strategy might be. Try as he might, he could never figure it out. All the times Londo stayed in, Garibaldi would have left, and vice versa.
He took another sip of his soda. Londo had mocked him for avoiding the alcohol, but a little peer pressure wasn't about to make him break his sober streak.
Something flashed on his wrist. Puzzled, he held up his hand and observed his communicator. There was nothing at first, but then a little red light towards the bottom of the device blinked on again.
Garibaldi had helped decide what model of communicator the crew of Babylon 5 would use when the station was still fresh from construction. This particular model was an EarthForce standard onboard larger starships and was designed to have direct connection between the units. However, due to the sheer size of Babylon 5, that didn't work, and the communicators had to be connected to the station's greater network in order to have full coverage.
A feature they had lost out on, however, was the ability for the communicators to find each other on demand. Sure, if you remembered to tell the network to track a specific commlink ahead of time, it could do a decent job, but if that was forgotten, the person wearing the communicator could disappear into the deeper spots of the station and everyone would be none the wiser. That was what happened to him a few days ago, after all.
The little red light currently blinking on his comm was a leftover relic of the direct connection feature. Garibaldi realized it had to be Kitt. The clever computer must have found a way into the old location tracker.
Which meant that yet another person was probably judging his life decisions. Oh well.
"Mister Garibaldi! Mister Garibaldi!" Londo came over and patted Garibaldi's back, jostling him and causing a splash of his drink to fall out.
"I saw that win, Ambassador. That's why I never bet against you." Garibaldi replied.
"Good. The way you were staring at your little comm I thought someone might have called you back to work." Londo made a clicking noise and then shook his head.
"Nope." He tucked his comm back into his sleeve.
"Gah, but you made me say 'work'! Now I have to drink!" Londo picked up a glass from the tableside that probably wasn't his and took a big sip. He giggled.
"Glad you're having fun." Garibaldi said under his breath.
"It looks like you're not. Don't try to protest- I can feel it." Londo set the glass down and grabbed his hand.
The Ambassador began dragging Garibaldi away from the dice table, to the other end of the Casino, where a bunch of patrons stood silently around another table. There were Earthen poker cards laid down on the table. Garibaldi recognized the game as Black Jack.
"You weren't having fun at the dice table. I take it cards might be more your speed." Londo patted Garibaldi's hand, before waving vigorously. "Dealer! Dealer! Cards over here, please!"
The Ambassador shoved Garibaldi towards the table. The dealer, a long-armed fellow from a race he couldn't recognize reached across the table and dealt two cards, one face-down and one face-up.
"I'm not letting you leave this table until you feel the thrill of victory." Londo grinned.
Well, great. No getting out of this one. Garibaldi was only vaguely familiar with the rules of Black Jack- enough to know that his total cards had to add to around 21, and that above or too far below was a bust. He put out his bet, then peeked under at his face-down card. It was a face card, which meant eleven. His top card was a five.
Sixteen total. Should he stay? If he asked for another card, he could get dealt a high card and he'd get busted, so when the dealer came around he chose to pass.
At the end of the round the deal flipped over his own cards. Everyone waited anxiously. The dealer flopped down two cards and his total equalled nineteen.
Garibaldi sighed and paid up his bet.
"Come on, friend. That's no way to play." Londo frowned. "You're too cautious. Go all in!"
The next round came and Garibaldi was dealt two new cards. His face-down was an eight and his face up was a five. When the dealer came around, he asked for another card.
The dealer slapped down another five. That was eighteen. He could stop here, but he figured he should take Londo's advice. He asked for another card.
The dealer slapped down a face card. Twenty-nine. Totally broke. Garibaldi shoved his credits forward.
"Okay, that was too far in." Londo said.
"Yeah, I see now. Now my wallet's hurting." Garibaldi replied. "Just let me go. I don't have the feel for it."
"You don't, but how else will you learn?"
Garibaldi knew he could shove his way out and storm out of the Casino, but he knew the Ambassador would never let him forget it. Londo tended to be touchy about things like this. It could seriously cause a diplomatic incident.
Garibaldi caught sight of the red light blinking on his comm. Suddenly he had an idea. He brought the comm up to his mouth and pressed the call button.
"Hey, Kitt. You hear me?"
"Loud and clear, Garibaldi. What is it?"
Garibaldi tried to contain his smile. "You're a computer, right? How good are you at calculating odds?"
"Having trouble at the Casino, are you?" Kitt teased.
Great, he couldn't even get a break from Kitt, although he supposed he deserved it. "Yeah, just a little."
"Fortunately for you, I am quite skilled in the realm of calculating gambling odds." Kitt replied. "Simply give me a proper description of the game mechanics and-"
"You know Black Jack?"
"Do I know Black Jack? A silly question. Of course I'm familiar with it. Now, I can't see your table, but if you tell me what numbers you have, I can most certainly boost your chances of success." Kitt replied.
"Great, I'll leave the comm open so you can hear what's going on."
Garibaldi pretended to end the call and snuck his wrist back down by the table.
Londo gave him a worried look. "Duty calls?"
"It was something minor. Now let's play some Black Jack." Garibaldi replied.
The dealer dealt the next round of cards.
"Hmm, a two below and a ten on top." He muttered out loud. Then he pretended to scratch his head, bringing his comm up by his ear.
"From what I could gather from the rest of the table, your ideal play should be to request two cards. There are a lot of high numbers out, so your chances of going over are slim." Kitt said.
Garibaldi brought his hand back down. When the dealer came around, Garibaldi motioned for the first card.
The dealer slapped down four. He was now at sixteen. His instinct told him to stay, but he bit it back and motioned for the second card.
It was a five. He was right at 21. He tried to contain his smile as he put his bet on his cards, indicating he was done.
The round came to an end. The dealer flipped over his cards again. After two hits, he was up to twenty.
Several other patrons groaned and flipped over their cards to reveal nineteens and eighteens, where they had decided to stop. Then they all looked to Garibaldi, with laughter in their eyes.
Garibaldi smirked and flipped over his cards to reveal his 21. Even the dealer looked shocked for a moment before finally paying up.
"Yes! That's more like it, Mister Garibaldi! I knew there was a gambling man in you!" Londo grabbed his shoulder and shook him back and forth.
"I guess so!" Garibaldi shrugged.
"Now that you've had a taste of victory, you're going to play another round, yes?" Londo asked.
Garibaldi hesitated. He was technically cheating, but if Kitt was having fun as well, then. . .
Before he knew it he had entered the next round and had doubled his bet. The other players gave him the side-eye. They were expecting him to blow it. On any other day, they'd be right.
The cards came down. An ace underneath and a four up top.
"Okay, Kitt, what do I do?"
"Give me a moment. Your ace can either count as an eleven or a one. That nearly doubles your amount of options. I need more time."
Garibaldi began to sweat as the dealer made his way around the table, but there was still silence from his commlink even as the dealer finished busting the guy before him.
The dealer looked at him with expectant eyes. Garibaldi stalled, keeping his hand underneath his chin and looking very thoughtful. The dealer gave an annoyed huff before turning to move on.
"Wait!" Garibaldi called after him. "I'll take a card."
The dealer put down seven.
"A seven?" Garibaldi asked.
"I've got it!" Kitt piped in. "Count your ace as a one and ask for one more card. Only one!"
"I'll take one more card." Garibaldi told the dealer.
The dealer looked practically exasperated, and slapped down the next card while looking him dead in the eye. Then they both looked down.
It was nine. The dealer looked particularly smug at the high card. Garibaldi tried his best to keep a perfectly straight face and slide his bet on top of his cards. The dealer's jaw dropped, and a shushed 'oooooh' passed around the table.
The end of the round came. The dealer got what looked to be a bad hand. He flipped his cards over to reveal a seventeen and he decided to stay. Several other players started grabbing at the cash. Garibaldi reached for it as well.
The dealer hesitated. "Cards."
He flipped them over to reveal his second 21 of the night.
The dealer looked almost offended as Garibaldi took the credits. Compared to the beginning of the night, thanks to his enormous bet this round, his wallet was feeling a little heavier.
"You know, your subordinates should call you 'Lucky Garibaldi' at this rate." Londo said.
"Sure they should." Garibaldi snickered.
He began to walk away from the table, but Londo stopped him.
"Aren't you going to stay? You're on a roll."
"No, no. It's getting late, anyway. And besides," Garibaldi lowered his voice. "If I keep winning like this, people are gonna get angry. My job is to end fights, not start 'em."
Londo gave a sad nod. "Very well. Goodnight, Mister Garibaldi. Hopefully you have learned tonight how to loosen up a little, yes?"
"All thanks to you." Garibaldi, in a reversal of the usual, gave the Ambassador a solid pat on the shoulder, before taking his leave of the casino.
"Man, I owe you, Kitt. You really saved my bacon out there tonight!"
Garibaldi had come back to his quarters 2045 hours, but Kitt didn't mind the tardiness at all. The man was quite excitable and was currently pacing around the kitchen and recalling the night's events.
"I am miserable at cards, but Ambassador Londo, that bastard, he wouldn't let me leave the table until I won! Did I tell you I'm terrible at gambling?" Garibaldi continued.
"You didn't tell me before you left for the casino, Garibaldi. Otherwise I would have thought to provide my services sooner." Kitt injected humor into his voice.
"You're right. Then I could've avoided looking like an idiot for the first two rounds. You're a lifesaver." Garibaldi shook his head, but was still smiling.
"As I was programmed to be." Kitt said proudly.
"You were programmed to help people win at Black Jack?" He raised an eyebrow.
"I also know a variety of other poker games. Texas Hold 'Em, Five Card Draw, to name a few."
"And how often did you use those?"
"More often than you might think. I helped my previous partner win many poker games during our time together."
Kitt left out the fact that he could previously cheat at said poker games in his old body.
"Amazing! All part of the 'case', right?"
"Usually, yes." Kitt replied in full seriousness.
"And tonight, you were helping my case!" Garibaldi slapped his thigh. "You should've seen the look on the dealer's face."
The word 'case' brought back some old anxieties, but Kitt ignored them as best he could. "He must have been quite incredulous."
"You were so smooth it was like you were on the job."
"I was not 'on the job', as you say." Kitt insisted. "Can't computers have off-hours?"
Garibaldi held his hands up. "You're right, you're right. I was exaggerating. But can you blame me?"
"Blame you for what?" Kitt asked.
"Getting excited. Both about tonight and today. Do you know what I saw today? Chemistry."
There was no denying there was chemistry between them. Since the very first day they had met, a connection had formed between them. Garibaldi's personality seemed particularly compatible-
"It was almost like we were partners."
Partners.
Were they. . . partners? They had a case together. He had Garibaldi's commlink, even.
No. He was merely providing assistance on the Simon Holt case, and the commlink he had access to wasn't complete- a mere shadow of a fully operational link.
And could they really be partners if they had never gone on a drive together? If Kitt couldn't roll the windows down and let his driver taste the salty California air along the Pacific Coast Highway? Could they really be partners if he hadn't and could never take a bullet for him?
And could Garibaldi ever be a real partner? Without the smile, without the leather jacket and the stupid 80s pop music that grated the airwaves and without a love of burgers and women and-
"Kitt!"
His systems became blurred from vibrations and he was dragged away from his memory banks. Everything felt scrambled. He realized that his voice modulator lights had turned off and he lit them up again.
"There you are. You went dark there for a second." The shaking stopped.
"Garibaldi?" Kitt did a sweep of his visuals scanners, only to find that Garibaldi's face was hovering a short distance away now.
"You okay?" He asked.
"Whatever you did, don't do it again. The shaking, I mean." Kitt replied.
Garibaldi backed off. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how else to snap you out of it."
"There was nothing to snap me out of. I was only thinking."
"Yeah, right. What happened?"
"We're not partners, Garibaldi." Kitt stated.
Garibaldi was about to reply, but the words caused him to close his mouth. A myriad of expressions crossed his face, and Kitt had known him long enough to determine what they were. Surprise, sadness, a hint of anger; they all faded together to form a soft disappointment.
"I'm sorry. It. . . slipped out." Garibaldi looked away.
"We're not partners. You are my friend but you are not my partner. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Kitt. I'm sorry."
Garibaldi walked away, out of Kitt's vision, into the bedroom. Kitt heard the sliding doors shut. There were a few grunts, as Garibaldi changed into his pajamas, and then the creaking of bedsprings.
"Goodnight, Garibaldi." Kitt called back.
"Goodnight."
The lights turned off.