"Well then… if you don't mind, shall we begin?"
"...Riven, you seem… different. I can hardly recognize you anymore."
"What's wrong, Lirael? Am I supposed to always be the uncertain hero, clinging to hope?"
"..."
"It all started because of me. So the deaths of Sylas and Tyrion... that's on me."
Riven carefully dealt glowing cards from the deck, handing them out one by one until both had four in hand. Lirael grew uneasy. This was the third time the rules had changed.
The first time, cards were dealt at the start of the round.
The second, they came after a dice roll.
And now, they had to draw them manually.
"Don't worry, Lirael. I'm not cheating. The cards won't reveal themselves until you pick them up."
Riven was unnervingly calm. Adjusting his glasses, he glanced at the cards in his hand.
"...You're not going to look at yours?"
"Riven… are you torturing yourself with guilt? Thinking they died because of you?"
