Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

As always, thank you GoSpeedGrrrl/GreenEyedMonster for beta'ing my commas for me!

Playing Games

"So how'd you and Riddick get together? Did you come with the room? Like part of the furniture or somthin'?" Jacks cocked an eyebrow at Zemma, her voice was light, meant to be casual and humorous.

But that had hit a little too close to reality. Zemma blinked and felt her mental armor snap up, her face a mask of tranquility. But she fumbled the second part of the shuffle and Jack looked at her narrowly, seeing if the barb had hit home.

"I never did this before yesterday," Zemma explained with a wan smile.

"That long ago, huh?"

Zemma didn't think Jack meant the cards.

Girl's razor sharp! Watch your fingers, even kit's teeth can hurt.

"I don't see any chips, and I don't have any creds on me. How are we gonna bet?"

Zemma didn't want to mention Riddick's solution to that problem. "Perhaps I can find some." Zemma set the cards down in front of Jack and went to the comm. Don W'Rdah was probably busy, but was also most likely to have poker chips.

"Don…"

"What the hell do you want?"

Nope. Still not friends. Should have called Jaron.

"Is Jaron available?"

"He's busy too. Whadda ya want."

"Poker chips." She waited for his verbal smack on the back of her head. She heard him snort instead and the comm light went to 'on hold'. Zemma looked back at Jack. Jack was, as usual, watching intently, as if memorizing everything.

The light went green and W'Rdah's voice, tinged slightly with amusement, said only "On the way."

Huh.

Zemma turned a smile on Jack. "Perhaps we can go through a couple of hands? You can remind me what beats what?"

"Sure." Jack shuffled and dealt. "Draw poker. Five cards dealt, you can throw in up to four and get new ones. But ya only do that if all you have is an ace." She picked up her cards, and threw four down, looking at Zemma expectantly.

Zemma picked up her hand and inspected it, trying to remember all the winning combinations. She thought Jack had thrown her cards down too quickly, as if trying to emphasize the ace comment. Zemma dropped two cards on the table and took her draws from Jack.

Jack didn't have an ace. 'Bluff' was what Riddick had explained. Bluffs were as important as a good hand. They played on, Jack occasionally giving advice and Zemma learning to read her from the hands she played. She wasn't as difficult as Riddick, being more animated, she merely masked one thing for another.

Zemma was very good at masks. Learning Jack's was not a problem. She knew, too, that Jack was trying to learn her faces, as well as feeling out who she was to Riddick.

"Tell me about five years ago." Zemma dealt.

"He didn't tell you already?"

Jack was trying to make something of that. But it was no secret how close-mouthed Riddick was so Zemma only shrugged.

A cloud passed over Jack's features. "We crashed on a planet. Riddick saved us," she spoke evenly.

And something important happened in between that forged this odd relationship. If she wasn't born Furyan, she sure has the traits of one. Zemma would dig for it later.

"How'd the old man end up king of this steel jungle, anyhow?"

Time to spank the girl.

"He chased Kyra here, thinking she was you. And killed the former Marshal for killing her. You keep what you kill here. That made him Marshal." Zemma looked at the girl pointedly.

"Is that how he got you? You belonged to the Marshal?"

Nice recovery. The kid didn't even blink, and threw it right back.

"Yes and no." Zemma didn't feel a need to discuss her father's suicide. Her armor was always intact on the subject of him, twenty years of practice.

"That's it, 'yes and no'?"

"I did not belong to the Marshal." Zemma clarified.

"But you belonged to someone Riddick killed."

You were too nonchalant; she's looking for the bluff.

"Yes." Zemma kept her face passive, and let Jack lead.

"And now you're holding hands and getting kissy face with him? Must have been a real bastard, or you're one cold bitch." Jack said it with a smile, almost a compliment. "Not that I blame you. Riddick's like gravity." She shrugged to take the import off what she just said, and rushed on. "So what's he see in you?"

Zemma couldn't answer that. Certainly not with Riddick walking silently as a ghost back into the suite, but even so, she didn't think she could answer that.

"Kid. Shut it," Riddick remarked, making Jack jump a little.

"Two Commanders and three Marshals," Zemma said laying down her hand.

"It's jacks and kings, I told you that," his voice light and his eyes smiling at her. Jack didn't miss it.

Zemma smiled back. She remembered. She also suspected him of cheating. They had not stuck strictly to betting clothing as she discovered what strip poker was, and was still trying to hold out on going to bed with him (for reasons she could no longer fathom.) But they had bet drinks and finally he had challenged her; if he won the next hand she would move back into the suite.

It seemed like the thing to do at the time.

But what were the odds he would get her exact last hand as his own?

Riddick put an ornate wooden box on the table. "That's from Don W'Rdah." His face and voice faintly curious.

Zemma slid the cover on its grooves to expose a variety of neatly lined and varying colored disks. "Chips!"

"I thought he hated you." Riddick's voice was dry, slightly amused.

"Me too. Should we look for a bomb?" Zemma asked glibly. Jaron was probably in the room when she asked for the poker chips. But she wasn't going to mention that. Riddick got a little odd whenever she mentioned him. However much he liked the silky new clothes Jaron had given her.

"Play with us?" Jack's voice lilted suggestively, causing both Zemma and Riddick to look at her piercingly. But she was looking down at the cards she was shuffling.

She's doing everything she can to sting him.

Gonna have to find a way to spank that girl.