Re: The Rex: Cat & Jack
He'd been to Switzerland. The skiing was bloody good and the people were polite behind teeth, which was about as much could be said for any people who were neither German or French but both. Excellent coffee, bloody good chocolate and inscrutability that borrowed from across both borders. Neutrality bristled here like the guides who walked around the markets thickly wound with guns and ammunition, because it was easier to keep the peace if everyone knew you could take it apart in seconds.
Yes, this was her world. Cultivated from the gilt to the card tables and it was a very plush oyster for the pearl. They were watching her, he could see that much in his unobtrusive suit. Every bloody one of them, a little like dining a deux with the head of a cabal of freedom fighters, if freedom fighters wore shoes that were well into three figures and looked far too groomed. She was sleek here, but she wasn't a house-cat. Jack smiled mildly into the middle-distance and only the light in his eyes said entertained.
"I had somebody threaten to cut my fingers off before. Is that routine here?" A massacre over bland newspaper would probably do considerably more for the circulation of the paper than the editor in chief. "You'll have to be nice to me. I know it's a terrible challenge, but if you put my life at risk with the flicker of your eyelash, Cat, you'll have to contain yourself." Not that containing herself was a terribly difficult challenge, Cat had locks on locks. His own padlocks were paltry in comparison. Still, his voice held mirth like some of the liquid poured into glasses at the bar in the corner and christ knew he was going to stay sober.
He plucked the chip out nearly as quickly as she'd put it in, the rumpled affray of plaid ignored. A game within a game, he knew that much. He turned it over in his fingers on the flat of his palm and studied the flash of its numeration. Money ran through this place like water, but he looked at her and there was thoughtfulness in clear blue. She'd marshalled them here, and the attendant stood obediently very close by. His suit looked expensive too; the weave was thick and tight. The lot of them were probably outfitted on something outrageous. No doubt there was a highly satisfied tailor somewhere. Even in the best gaming dens, in Lausanne or in Monaco, the staff didn't show wealth the way the rich knew how to recognize it, through quiet signals. The last time he'd stood at a table with a chip like this, it had been in China.