Anthony leaned back in his chair, the mountain of chips untouched in front of him. His grin remained, but his eyes sharpened. He studied Number Nine with a predator's curiosity, amused but wary.
Nine did not move. He sat like the world could wait, the weight of his presence pressing down on the room. The other players were already retreating. The subtle shift in air was enough to make them vanish quietly.
Anthony tapped a finger against the felt table. "So?"
Nine tilted his head, calm. "So?"
"You sit across from me like you own this place." Anthony's voice was light, playful, but every syllable was measured. "Which means either you do, or you think you do."
Nine chuckled quietly. "Molly called me."
Anthony clicked his tongue, leaning back. "Of course she did."
"You left an impression," Nine said. "That is not common."
Anthony's grin widened. "You gonna make me an offer?"
Nine leaned forward just enough to create tension. "I do not make offers. I take."
Anthony's grin sharpened. "Then take me."
Nine's eyes studied him for a long beat. "You have no idea what that means. Nothing is given. Everything is earned."
Anthony shrugged, spreading his arms. "Bored. Curious. You are enough."
Nine let the silence stretch. He watched Anthony like a sculptor examines raw stone. Anderson had precision. Discipline. Fire controlled by ice. Anthony was wildfire. Unstable, unpredictable, dangerous. Exactly what Nine needed.
"You like games," Nine said finally.
Anthony leaned forward, elbows on the table. "They are the only thing worth playing."
Nine exhaled through his nose, then leaned back slightly. "Then we play a game."
Anthony sat up, intrigued. "What kind?"
Nine pulled a single bullet from his coat pocket and set it on the table between them.
Anthony raised an eyebrow. "Russian roulette? Classic, but played out."
Nine smirked. "Not the point." He gestured at the round. "Tell me its value."
Anthony rolled the bullet between his fingers. "Market price? A couple bucks. But in the right hands… it is priceless. Place it in the head of someone holding a hundred million in debt, and it is worth a hundred million. Kill the wrong politician, and you reshape the future. It is not just metal. It is leverage. Power. Control."
Nine's eyes narrowed, approving. "Keep talking."
Anthony flipped the bullet in the air, catching it casually. "I understand stakes. I understand risk. I understand advantage."
Nine watched him for another moment, silent. Then he stood.
"Where are we going?" Anthony asked.
Nine smirked. "You wanted excitement. Time to see if you can handle it."
Anthony pushed back his chair and grabbed his jacket. "Now we are talking."
He did not know what awaited him.
He did not care.
Because finally, the game was real.