They didn't stay at that table.
Someone pointed her toward another game. Someone else cleared space for her without asking. Coins moved with her now, carried, counted, reset in front of different layouts. Dice. Lights. Another set of numbers that didn't wait.
She laughed more easily.
Not loud. Not sloppy. Just loose enough that the tension in her shoulders faded. A drink appeared in her hand. She took a sip this time. Then another. Warmth settled in, not heavy, just enough to blur the edges.
She kept winning.
Not every round, but enough that the pile never shrank. People noticed. Strangers leaned in, asked her name, asked where she'd learned to play like that. Someone clapped when she hit another streak.
"That's her," someone said nearby. "The one from the numbers table."
Marybeth hovered close, smiling but watching her carefully. Brix was laughing, already telling the story to anyone who would listen.
Iyisha didn't think about it too hard.
