"Hah! 4 of a kind. Read 'em and weep, boys."

A collective sigh echoed from the other side of the room as the Doberman reached forwards, scooping the small mountain of cash in the middle of the poke table towards his person. The canine, a man in his mid 50's, grinned and giggled to himself as he began to pile the money together, counting it in his hands and rolling them into bundles that he stuffed into his pocket. Another Doberman sat next to him, grimacing as he dropped his cards to the table, glancing down at the pile of cash. He was also a man, but much younger than the other canine, closer to his early 20's.

Samuel knew he shouldn't be here, or rather, he knew how dangerous it was. He'd grown up around these kinds of people-- dangerous and mysterious, who seemed friendly or at least amicable on the face of things but did shady and disturbing things in the dark, out of sight of the general public. His father, Bruce, was one such individual: Samuel had known about his dad's nefarious deeds since he was a teenager. Drug smuggling, body trafficking, even street protection was his forté. He was a kingpin in the urban sprawl and known to be particularly ruthless too, but everyone knew he doted on his only child, Samuel himself. Sam had quickly been brought into the fold when he turned 18, mostly doing the odd job here and there, being taught by his dad's higher ups to do his job. Now, Bruce was mentoring him on being a leader-- and these little poker games were something of an exercise, though it was mostly for fun.

"Should know better than to bet against this snake." A reptile on the other end of the table, ironically a snake himself, hissed through his maw and watched with a grim expression as Bruce pocketed his winnings. Markov Ilyad, nicknamed Viper, one of Bruce's closest business partners. He was a tall and imposing man, with something of a muscle gut, who operated a small gang subcontracted by Bruce himself. Sam's dad took most of the cut, but Viper got more than enough for him and his lackeys to live on. His loyalty had earned him an exclusive top spot in Bruce's organisation and by extension his friendship. The man sitting beside him, however, was something of an oddity.

As if on cue, the other figure, a lanky and dishevelled feline with greying whiskers and midnight black fur, tossed his cards to the table and let out something of a disgruntled mewl, briefly licking the back of his hand to smooth down his messy fur. Harvey Lewitz was his name, nicknamed 'The Ragged Man', was someone new-ish to the inner circle but had been working with Sam's dad and Markov for some time. He didn't have many skills himself, but he had his hands in the pockets of the police department and a number of politicians, which made him something of an important asset despite his appearance. Sam always thought that he made himself look messy and scruffy deliberately, but even on nights when there was no business ventures to be had, he still seemed as dishevelled as usual.

"I saw it coming...and still I was goaded into offering more than I should," Harvey sighed vocally and reached into his gray jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette. "You sure know what makes people tick, Bruce. No wonder you're top dog."

"Thank ya kindly, boys," Bruce said amidst a guffaw, his muzzle stretched into a wide grin as he clasped Sam on the back. "I think my boy's gettin' the hand of poker too!"

Sam felt the eyes of the other two gentleman upon and was admittedly nervous, feeling the colour rise to his face. It was nice to be praised by his father, but he was an awkward sort of guy, even in times like these. He had never been that charismatic like his dad, but he was learning to be more confident...since he didn't have a choice, if his dad wanted him to work with him in the future.

"I think that's enough for me, boys." Bruce idly said, reaching for his half-finished glass of whisky and guzzling the rest of it down like a shot at a bar. The other two men exchanged a glance. Of course, Sam and his father weren't at their home, despite Bruce being the boss-- in fact, they were at Markov's beach house, sitting in the dim light of his living room, the cieling high windows displaying a wonderful view of the shore and ocean beyond.

"It's just like you to leave once you've won the pot." Markov remarked, chuckling low under his breath as he downed some of his drink as well, but still left some in the bottom of the glass. Sam reached to nervously sip his beer as Bruce firmly patted his shoulder, rising to his feet.

"C'mon, kid." He began, pulling his suit jacket from the chair he'd sat on.

"Come now, Bruce. I'm sure little Sammy's got a lot of energy still left in him. It's only midnight." Harvey insisted, his gaze moving from Bruce to his son. Sam met those yellow eyes and averted his gaze.

"Yeah," Markov chimed in. "Let 'im stay a little longer and we'll give him some pointers."

Bruce hesitated, looking from the men to his son, eventually just staring down at Sam and expecting him to respond. The early 20's Doberman straightened up a bit and cleared his throat.

"I-It's okay, dad. I can stay a bit longer." He assured him, and Bruce watched him for a moment before sighing, shrugging his jacket on.

"Try not to rinse him too hard, boys. Whatever money he has is probably mine." Bruce warned sourly, eliciting a chuckle from the two aged men. There was a brief exchange of pleasantries and farewells before they watched and listening for the quiet click of the front door. Shortly thereafter came the revving an engine as a sleek black car pulled out from the driveway and back onto the main street. Sam knew his dad didn't drive himself-- their chauffeur had been sitting around all evening waiting for them to finish up. 

A quiet silence fell over time as Harvey reached out to collect and shuffle the cards. Sam's heart began to pound harder and harder. It wasn't that he was scared-- well, he was, but he was nervous more than anything else. These two people were complete strangers to him, and they were also dangerous. If he said the wrong thing or even looked the wrong way, he might potentially offend them, and that could be worse than losing a hand.

"So?" The gruff voice of Markov made the young Doberman jump and he raised his head, his gaze meeting with the reptile's own. Markov reached up to scratch under his skin, claws raking across greenish-gray scales.

"S...So what?" Sam began awkwardly, watching as Harvey dished out two cards each. No-one touched them, for now.

"So what are you going to bet? You're up first, boy." Markov loosely gestured and Sam quickly relaxed, reaching into his pocket to fumble for his wallet. He rummed deep within and only scrounged up the few bills he had on hand-- a couple hundred, at most. He tossed them to the table and the two older men exchanged a glance, befkre Markov erupted into a guffawing laugh, one that came deep from his belly.

"What's this, 300 dollars?" He sounded amused. "This is practically change, kid! Surely you've got more than that."

"I-I, uh...I don't. I didn't bring any with me." Sam began, and Markov's wide grin fell from his face. He looked almost disappointed and Sam couldn't help but sink in his seat a little, filled with an overwhelming sense of shame. He'd only come to poke night because his father insisted he get to know thw two gentleman.

"Jesus...my daughter wipes her ass with 300 dollars." The reptile grunted, grabbing the notes from the middle of the table and sliding them back over in Sam's direction, waving his hand almost dismissively, gesturing for him to put his money away. Sam did just that, but couldn't help feel as if he'd soured the mood a little bit by being a 'cheapskate'.

"I'll bet first, then." Harvey suggested, stuffing a hand into the innards of his jacket and tossing a keyring to the table, complete with a couple of keys on them. One bore a thick black sleeve akin to a car key, whilst the other was small and ornate decorated.

"The keys to my newly purchased condo, and my Lexus LC." Harvey offered, and Markov grinned toothily, showing off the array of teeth at his possession, some tipped with gold. He put a hand into the pocket of his trousers and tossed his own set of keys to the table.

"My custom Jaguar F-Type...and the security key to my private Hangar." The implication was extreme-- if he was offering the keys to his hangar, he was also betting his private plane away too. Those things were worth as much as a car, perhaps even more. Sam felt his blood run cold at the thought of betting on such luxurious goods, and he knew he had no chance of competing. The only keys he had on him were to his studio apartment in town-- his father was rich, but Sam was always careful with money, and didn't like to spend what wasn't his. Bruce had insisted on him owning his own place outright and Sam had picked the cheapest one and convinced his dad it was what he wanted. He didn't want to give it up-- it was, technically, his home.

"So?" Markov began with a grin. "You ain't got nothing to bet that even matches to this, kid, except your daddy's money."

"I mean, you're not wrong, but uh...I don't even have a credit card in his name." Sam admitted, and Markov was, for once, surprised. The reptile raised his eyebrows and reached out to pat the young adult on the shoulder, practically praising him.

"Being independent and making your own way when you're born with a silver spoon in your mouth. That's admirable, kid," Markov admitted, his expression one akin to respect. "But you still need to bet or it ain't fair. Hmm..."

"How about your body?" Harvey's sudden suggestion left the other two in a stunned silence, and Sam felt the colour rise to his cheeks at the thought. He was by no means a virgin-- but he was also definitely not gay, nor a prostitute. The humiliation in betting his body was too much, not to mention the potential chance of losing. Or perhaps...perhaps Harvey was bluffing and wanted to get a rise out of him. His dad always said he needed to show confidence to earn respect.

"F...Fine," Sam insisted with a nervous gulp, making a gesture towards the pot as if he were throwing something in. "I offer my body for the bet."

A silence fell over the three of them. The tension in the air that mostly emanated from Harvey was so thick that Sam could almost taste it. He was sitting directly opposite the feline and he could see those yellow eyes looking him up and down, taking in his form, his figure. Sam was trim, athletic, and kept himself in shape-- for those inclined to his gender, he was probably quite attractive, or so he assumed. Maybe Harvey just had a type.

"Well..." Markov began awkwardly. "Not quite an even bet, but...fuck it, we'll take it."

They didn't raise the stakes thereafter-- there was no need to, when they'd already thrown in all they could, or at least Sam had. The Doberman scooped up his two cards and gulped. THey weren't good-- lower end numbers, not the same nor even the same suite. His chances of looking were slim, and he couldn't read Harvey's expression. The feline was an enigma through and through. Sam couldn't be sure if he had a bad or a good hand, and he couldn't fold either-- doing something so rash would basically put himself up to be used.

"All done?" Harvey glanced around the table before sliding three cards from the top of the desk, placing them across the table and flipping them over one by one. Sam's heart sank with each card that flipped, each as vastly different as the other. The only thing he had even close was a pair, but it was a low-end pair-- anyone who had a pair of a higher number would out-class him immediately. 

After another series of nods around the table, Harvey cut the round short by drawing the last two cards, rather than forcing them to wait. One of the cards matched the other, which also matched one in Sam's hand. The Doberman wanted to cry out in delight at the thought of potentially winning the hand but tried to keep himself composed, looking down at his cards and back up to the table. Three of a kind was pretty high up on the list of hands. A flush looked to be out of the question given the suites available on the table, but a straight was possible. Hell, even of a three of a kind might be, if he's unlucky enough.

"Alright, boys...show your hands." Markov insisted. Harvey scoffed and threw his to the table, showing his lack of a winning hand-- the most he had was the pair on the table and nothing more. Excited, Sam placed his own hand down.

"Three of a kind. 4's, no less." He announced with a wide smile, trying to keep his eagerness contained. Markov analysed his cards and quirked an eyebrow, before a wide grin spread across his reptilian face. Sam frowned at him and watched as the man placed his own cards on the table.

"Three of a kind, too. Mine are 8's, however." Markov had been unlucky enough to get two 8's in his starting hand, and the 8 on the table was enough to win him the pot. Sam paled and the sudden realisation hit him-- he'd willingly bet his body and had now lost him, which effectively put him at the whimsy of the reptile that sat to his right. Markov reached out and scooped the keys towards him, stuffing them in his pocket.

"Thank you very much Sam, Markov." He chuckled to himself, nodding over at the grimacing feline before slowly turning his head towards the Doberman. Sam nervously shifted in his seat and rose to his feet, grabbing his beer and taking a large, plentiful swig.

"I will, um...give you what you want, but another time. It's a little late, a--" Sam began, hoping he could worm his way out of the bet, or at least delay it as much as possible to potentially get his dad to call it off, shameful as it was.

"Take off your shirt." The reptile's voice was low and somber, riddled with both authority and danger. Sam faltered and hesitated, staring down at the reptile who did nothing but stare right back into his eyes, making it clear that the bet was going to be followed through tonight. Sam's hands shook as he moved them to his buttoned-up shirt, where he began to slowly undo it, hands travelling down to pop each button. He parted the shirt and let it slip from his shoulders to reveal his bare chest and athletic form. He glanced between the two of them in turn and saw that both of them were checking him out, more or less.

"Don't forget your pants." Markov continued, his voice dipping an octave, dripping with a fervent intensity. Sam drifted his hands down towards his jeans and hesitated.

"L-Look, can we just call it off? I..." Sam began, but his voice trailed off as Markov rose to his feet, moving around the table. Sam didn't attempt to move, but he winced as Markov reached out with his hand, placing it against Sam's back. With a forceful, powerful hand, he pushed Samd down against the table, the doberman's chest pressing against the mahogany wood.

"W-Wait..." Sam began anxiously as he felt a hand grasping at the band of his jeans, roughly tugging the back down to expose his ass to the cool night air, taking the boxers with them. Sam squirmed as the reptile pushed further down, yanking the jeans towards the doberman's knees, where Sam's squirming in itself caused the pants to be coaxed from his legs completely. He felt a hand on his bare ass, spreading his cheek to admire the hole between, untouched by anyone.

"You bet on this, kid, so you'd better be ready to accept what's coming." The reptile grunted, slapping his hand against Sam's ass, causing a loud smack to reverberate around the room. Harvey rose to his feet and grinned, admiring the way Sam was pressed down against the table, hands curled against the wood.

A finger flipped between Sam's cheeks and the doberman let out a grunt as he felt the wetness of those digits, slathered in what he could only assume to be spit, smear down against his button and probe at his virgin entrance, inevitably pushing inside. Sam gritted his teeth and let out a groan of discomfort as those fingers thrust forwards and explored his insides, forcing his ring to stretch and accommodate such large, intruding digits. Harvey, meanwhile, was already beginning to remove his jacket and let his trousers drop to the floor, standing in nothing but an expensive shirt and boxers, not that far away from Sam's face-- the table was short, and even with Sam bent over it his muzzle was still quite close to the edge on the other side.

"Open wide, kid." Harvey insisted, yanking his boxers down to reveal his member, roughly 6 or 7 inches in length, twitching as eagerly and plentifully as a man in his prime. Sam stared up at him in horror and winced as he felt the fingers inside of him flex and curl, poking at all manner of angles and forcing him to squirm. Sam knew what kind of predicament he was in-- even if he resisted, these men would still get their own way. Though he didn't want to, Sam parted his muzzle and opened it wide, and Harvey scooted forwards, pressing his tip to the young adult's tongue and sinking himself inside. 

"I don't think this kid's gay, you know." Markov remarked as he thrust his fingers back and forth for a moment before inevitably pulling them back, shrugging himself out of his own jacket and trousers.

"Duh, Viper. What, you couldn't tell from the way he was trying to get out of the bed?" Harvey remarked aloud, sighing to himself as he slid his hips forwards and dragged his distinctly barbed member along Sam's tongue, going as far as the table beneath him would allow before scooting back, letting his sensitive barbs drag against the tongue, making Sam wince in kind.

"Oh well. An ass in an ass. Imagine the look on Bruce's face when we tell him we fucked his boy." Markov chuckled dryly, reaching down to grope at his now naked crotch, waggling the length of his humanoid member and giving it a few eager pumps and strokes, coaxing it from its half mast size of 6 or so inches to its full mast length of 8. He shuffled forwards and jammed the head of the cock between the doberman's cheeks, grunting with desire as he tried to push. Sam instinctively pressed his legs together and let out a muffled noise of protest, humming his urgency as he felt the discomfort rise. The cock pressed against his entrance, but his tight clenching combined with the slippery spit made entry difficult for the aging reptile.

"Fuck it, this kid's too squirmy. Pull out for a minute, cat." Markov demanded, and Harvey grunted before he obliged, tugging his member back and slapping it lightly against Sam's nose.

After a moment, Sam felt Markov's large, imposing hands grip around his hips and flip him over, forcing him onto his back. Much to his own shame and axiety, his member was achingly stiff between his legs. The stimulation inside his ass was enough to get his body to react before, and Sam admittedly wanted nothing more than to cover it up and avoid talking about it, but Markov made a point and reaching out to grab his knotted member in his hand, giving it a few leisurely jerks and causing Sam to groan subtly under his breath.

"Would you look at that?" Markov smirked. "All that squirming and complaining, but the kid's nice and stiff."

"He's basically a slut at this point." Harvey remarked with a wide grin, but Markov's expression made him falter.

"Harvey. It's 2020," The reptile grimaced. "Let's not slut shame and just have some fun, alright?"

With a smile, Markov removed his hand from the doberman's eagerly twitching length and used his other hand to lift up one of Sam's legs, making sure he was nice and spread as he shuffled himself closer, pushing his pelvis up against Sam's behind. Harvey grunted to himself and propped himself back up onto the table, easing himself forwards so he could angle his member back towards the doberman's now upside-down face, hoping to get back to what he was doing before.

"Alright, this should be better..." Markov muttered, using his only free hand to grasp the base of his turgid cock, smearing it back between the canine's adult cheeks. He rubbed the end up and down, making sure his member was aptly covered in his own spit, before he pushed forwards, sure he had hit his mark. He hissed through his reptilian maw as Sam groaned and instinctively clenched. The doberman could only resist so much pushing, and after a few moments ot visible squirming and gasping, Sam's ring inevitably stretched, forced to accommodate the intrusion.

"F-Fuck..." Sam whimpered out, looking staring up at the ceiling, feeling his insides steadily growing full at the old reptile pushed into him, sinking deeper and deeper. Before he could sit up to see what Markov was doing, Harvey suddenly appeared over the top of him, moving around and turning 180 degrees until he was kneeling on the table, straddling Sam's chest whilst facing towards him. The doberman caught an eyeful of the man's half-naked body, bar his shirt, and the barbed member nestling between his collarbone and prodding his chin.

Harvey didn't need to tell him to open wide; Sam understood immediately what he wanted. Parted his muzzle, the doberman willingly opened his mouth up just as a groan of pleasure escaped his lips as Markov slid back, withdrawing a little out of Sam's ass before plunging forwards again, making Sam's mamber twitch and his innards spasm. Harvey wasted no time in sliding his own hips forward, reaching out to tug the canine's mouth up against his crotch, forcing his member between Sam's parted lips, dragging his barbed cock against that tongue again.

Sam could do nothing but reach up to hold onto Harvey's hips to steady himself, unsure where else to put his hands. Markov was slow, but he was rough: he plunged forwards with all the ferocity of a reptile in his prime, his member thick and firthy and his hands squeezing. Over time, one of Markov's hands drifted from beneath his knee and up towards his ankle, where he firmly gripped and angled the leg inwards. Sam wasn't sure what the reptile was planning-- and his vision was obscured by Harvey's slowly thrusting hips-- but he soon felt what Markov was after: a wetness spread across his paw and between his toes, dragging along each pad in turn. Markov was slathering the doberman's paw in his spittle, relishing the way Sam instinctively curled his toes as he thrust with a even greater ferocity over time.

Sam had initially been reasonably quiet despite Markov's thrusts, but Markov's increasing roughness was beginning to make Sam whimper and huff around Harvey's cock, letting more and more audible moans over time. His knotted member twitched and throbbed to attention with every thrust, the fat reptile member probing and grazing along his prostate, forcing a reaction from his young adult body. Harvey slowly began to lean over Sam's face until he was propping himself up on the table with his palm, gyrating his hips back and forth to effectively fuck Sam's mouth, balls slapping neatly onto the doberman's chin. All the way, Markov relentlessly pounded his now used backside, his tongue eagerly and lewdly roaming across Sam's pads in turn, occasionally suckling on a toe and worming his thick, fleshy tongue between his aforementioned digits.

Harvey was beginning to pant, and though Sam wasn't all that experienced with girls, he at least knew what heavy breathing meant for a guy, considering he was one. He let out a muffled noise amidst the cat's thrusts, his tongue a little numb from such a vigorous rubbing from the feline's barbs, in an attempt to try and get Harvey to back off-- he was straight, after all, and he didn't fancy the idea of swallowing another man's cum. However, Harvey didn't relent, and Sam didn't have the courage to force him off-- if he harmed a hair on his head then there'd be hell to pay, and not just from his dad.

"Oh fuck, I'm gonna bust already." Harvey panted out, mewling a little under his breath as his hips began to slow and grow irregular the more his arousal grew. He plunged as deep as he could with each thrust, greeting Sam to barbs in the back of his throat, causing the doberman to squirm and grip with his hands, letting out muffled protests, hoping Harvey might ease up. Instead, the feline doubled down, sighing with relief as he pushed down and gripped Sam by his ears, tugging him up towards his crotch and burying himself snugly against the young adult's mouth. Sam thankfully couldn't taste the cum as it shot down his throat, but he also couldn't breathe. He scrunched his eyes up and tried to hold out as long as he could, his heart pounding in his chest.

Markov didn't look to be anywhere near done, even as Harvey lingered for what felt like minutes before pulling back. Sam gasped for air but didn't get much time to rest, his ring raw and stretched from the reptile's brutal, rough pounding. Markov had stopped licking his paw by that point and was now focused entirely on getting off, his hips bucking back and forth as the wet sounds of their harsh sex filling the air, accompanied by the wet slaps of his pre and spit covered balls slapping with the doberman's ass. Sam gasped and huffed, both trying to catch his breath and moaning at the same time as his own cock wildly bounced up and down on his stomach, throbbing hard enough to stand at a near 45 degree angle before flopping down to his stomach. He didn't want to admit it, but Sam knew something was coming.

Harvey watched with a wide grin, smearing the little oozing remnants of his climax onto Sam's face as he watched his expression grow flushed and his eyelids droop. The feline craned his head back to see Markov grinning, displaying his rows of sharp, pointy teeth as both hands dug in tightly under Sam's knees, fingers gripping around flesh.

"I think he's about to nut, you know." Harvey remarked. As if on cue, Sam's pleasure reached its peak and he let out a slightly louder, more laboured groan as his insides clamped down and squeezed as hard as he could, his knot swelling as he climaxed. His thick load spurted across his stomach, staining his fur and pool around his belly button as Harvey smirked, watching Sam's face whilst idly smearing cum all over it. Markov huffed through his gritted teeth, enjoying the way Sam gripping around his cock, every inch of his insides milking each inch of his member in turn.

"Fuck!" Markov cried out, feeling himself tipping over the metaphorical edge, the point of no return. He thrusts a few more times, making sure to milk what height of his pleasure as much as he could, before his thrusts slowed somewhat and his member throbbed, balls tucking up towards his body as his length stiffened with each spurt of his orgasm. Sam couldn't see it, but he could most certainly feel it: each turgid spurt was like a hot knife up his spine, the warmth spreading across his stomach and making his body tingle. For the first time in his life, he'd lost his anal virginity and had sex with a man-- something he never thought would happen. His fragile masculinity was tarnished and a sweeping sense of dread washed over him at the thought of his father finding out he'd had sex with his associates, his colleagues.

Markov sighed, sinking his hips forward a little to enjoy the warmth of the doberman's insides and the glow of his orgasm some more, before he pulled back and smeared his cum-soaked head against the used ring, which was now squeezing and holding it in unintentionally as Sam attempted to get used to the discomfort of his first time doing anal. Markov reached out and roughly patted Harvey's back to get his attention, then jabbed with a thumb, motioning him to get off. Harvey obliged and Sam finally had room to sit up, aware he was naked and used amidst a pile of cars.

"Here," Markov grunted, tossing a set of keys onto Sam's crotch, where it landed just above his retreating member and snugly hooked around his sheath. "Get dressed and take my car home-- my daughter'll be home soon and I don't want your ass here when she gets here. And don't scratch it, or there'll be more than what happened tonight waiting for you."

The reptile turned and Sam raised his eyes to stare at his back, wondering if he'd done something wrong or if this was the reptile's attempt at being nice. He turned his head slightly to glance out the corner of his eye at the feline, who had since retreated into a seat, reaching for his own clothes to find a cigarette. A tense silence filled the room as Sam wordlessly slipped from the tabble, staggering to grab his things. At most he pulled his boxers and jeans on, but he weakly clutched his shirt as he limped to the door, tugging it open and stepping out into the cold night air. He knew that Markov could see him descending the steps from his beach house from the window, so Sam did his best to look confident as he walked to the sleek sports car, unlocking with a simple button press.

Markov watched Sam slink into a seat and reverse out the drive, following the only path out towards the main street, where the car inevitably disappeared from view. The reptile turned, still naked, and sighed, making his way over the table. He scooped his glass up and downed the contents, bitterly turning from the cat and heading towards the bar he had installed in the living room.

"Do you think you were harsh?" Harvey asked nonchalantly, and Markov grunted from the bar, pouring another glass of whiskey.

"...No. A bet's a bet. I just feel bad," Markov mumbled, downing another quick gulp of the fiery drink. "I promised Rafael I would tell him if I was gonna go fucking other guys."

"What, you little mexican whore?" Harvey quipped, and he waved a dismissive hand when Markov glared in his direction. "He'll be fine. It was only Bruce's kid anyway, not some random fling."

"I guess you're right," Markov sighed, pouring some more. "But what about you? Ain't Martha gonna be pissed?"

"Martha gets all her shit bought for her-- you think she gives a fuck what I do in my own time?" Harvey snorted.

"Right, right..." Markov nodded along. "Man, that kid was a good lay."

"Don't tell me you're catching feelings again, Markov."

"No, no. Of course not. But I wouldn't mind goading his sorry ass into another hand of poker again."

"It was a little unfair of you to sneak in that extra 8, you know."

"You had fun, didn't you?"

"Yeah, yeah...but no-one likes a snake, 'Viper'."

"You're far more cunning than me, cat. Now, how about another round?"

"Only if you're offering up this fancy beach house."

"Hah! In your dreams."