"It's not like that." Hawkeye protests, upping the ante.
The unknown man lifts a chip, throwing it into the pile. "I can't imagine it'd be much different."
Hawkeye shakes his head, almost violently, and searches for his glass to nurse a drink. "Call."
"Three-day passes to Tokyo filled with booze and card games with strangers." He tilts his cards so Hawkeye can see. "Hardly different."
He stares, the light in his eyes gone. "It's hell. Pure, terrifying hell."
The man nods as he sweeps the pile towards himself. "Another go?"
Hawkeye looks without seeing, muttering, " Not on my life."