He nods. "Might or might not; in either case, it's safest just to get the real thing. Even masters have bad days, after all."
"It was always my impression," says Severus, who would by the end have given a good deal for the DE to have been consolidated, with a bit of a sigh, "that he considered the possibility of a victory built on open conflict a suboptimal one. He wanted to be acknowledged by wizardkind as our natural leader--taking that respect by force was plan B. He wanted his quality known, not just his strength."
"You don't want to make peace?" Severus asks T2, very bland, merely out of curiosity to learn how the rest of the evening will go.
He picks up the dice and rolls (his eyes, as well as the dice, after subtly nudging the napkins at Rus, and less subtly taking a drink of scotch), and makes his throws while the negotiation goes on. This time he elects to let them all fall in point-bearing areas. Oddly enough, while he doesn't hit the rolled wedge, or the bull's-eye, or anything else interesting, his darts make a perfect equilateral triangle.
For the split second before the third one falls out of the board.