( The rounds flow like that, what, to the final declaration of cards, if neither of them folded first. When Wei Wuxian reveals his card, his hand isn't terrible — that's about the extent of it that might be said, but little more. He pouts in that moment, reaching for the shotglass and his own knife to meet the price; he doesn't even blink at whatever Jacob's hand is, nor the shark-man's, only aware that his ran lowest, like his luck enjoys dipping down deep. )
Another round!
( He says, cheerful seeming, measuring out his blood with a quiet gaze and the binding of his black ribbons around his wrists again after, a return to his usual robes, away from the form favoured in this place. )
Or whatever these are called, that's the fun of it, isn't it?
( Their card shark makes an approximation of a chuckle, the sound too breathy, before turning eyes on Jacob. If it had been a win or loss, regardless, he still asks: )
no subject
Another round!
( He says, cheerful seeming, measuring out his blood with a quiet gaze and the binding of his black ribbons around his wrists again after, a return to his usual robes, away from the form favoured in this place. )
Or whatever these are called, that's the fun of it, isn't it?
( Their card shark makes an approximation of a chuckle, the sound too breathy, before turning eyes on Jacob. If it had been a win or loss, regardless, he still asks: )
You want in?