The Card Shark's steely eyes bore unblinkingly into Napoleon's.
"Texas hold 'em. Win, and Princess Henrietta is yours. Lose, and I turn her over to THRUSH."
"All right."
As his host retrieved the poker paraphernalia, Napoleon glanced at the cage across the room. Its occupant grunted and shifted uncomfortably—she was doubtless still in pain from having THRUSH code tattooed over every inch of exposed skin. He turned away, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw his quarry hang her hairy head in resignation.
Staring at the plastic counters on the table, he smiled ruefully.
Buffalo chips.