A game is a game; when you gamble, you accept the loss.
Since that's the case, Thea Lynch didn't hide anything and spoke frankly.
"Damn," Silas Cheney's expression shifted from astonishment to delight. He leaned in curiously, asking, "Third Brother?"
Seventeen-year-old Thea Lynch, her only companion was Ian Preston.
Thea glanced at him, "Why are you so gossipy?"
"If it were someone else, I wouldn't ask. But you, that's different."
Thea ignored him, turned her head and placed the juice back on the table, "Let's continue."
She had answered everything that needed to be answered.
Foreman Chandler lightly coughed, taking charge of the situation, "Come on, let's continue."
Silas was about to spin the pointer, but before he could, Thea held him back, "Get out of the way."
"Alright, alright, whoever finished answering gets to spin. Your turn." Silas laughed and let her take over.
Without Silas's interference, no one else managed to spin it to land on Thea again.
