Bonded

Chapter 35: Haven

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Rey and Daja attempt to make an ally for their escape network. 

Note: Theres a mature version of this chapter available on Archive of Our Own (Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18122999/chapters/43481288)

The Devaronian glances at his cards.

He has two— an eight and a ten— cradled in both hands. They're slanted down so only he and his company can see them.

Daja sits to his right, her forearms resting on the table. She leans in, looking at the cards then at the silver-robed man sitting across from them.

He's smirking, like he's already won.

Rey sits to the left, scanning the table coolly. Everyone's out of the game except their host and this slimy-looking merchant, cropped white hair slicked back, blue eyes twinkling smugly.

Yet, just under the confidence is a twinge of fear and a kind of grating, like something's going up when it should be going down. It feels like a lie...

Rey starts to lean in.

But Daja beats her to the punch.

"He's bluffing," she whispers in their host's ear.

The Devaronian squints, red skin wrinkling around his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me." Daja's lips twist up. "I always know when someone's bluffing."

Their host stares at his cards. Then he nods, thick horns catching the light. He sits up, squaring his shoulders.

"I'll see your raise..." He reaches for a stack of chips, lifting it gingerly and casting it on the pile. "And I'll raise you fifty more." He slides another stack towards the pot, the chips cascading over it.

For a split second, the merchant twitches.

But he regains composure quickly, that smooth, angled face becoming blank. He stares coolly at their host.

Then he shoots forward, pushing the rest of his chips into the pot. He sneers, sitting back.

The Devaronian widens his eyes. He looks down at his own chips, calculating what's left. There's just enough... barely.

He glances from side to side, trying to decide what to do.

"Trust me," Daja whispers, placing a hand on his thigh. "I know this game, and I know when someone's lying. I can practically smell it." She nods to the merchant. "This guy's playing you, and it's time to call him on his shit."

The Devaronian sucks in a breath, drumming thick fingernails on the table. He stares at his remaining chips.

Finally, he pushes out an exhale.

"You better be right, girl," he mutters, sitting up.

"I'm always right." Daja flashes a smile.

Their host shakes his head, but his lips are turned up. He leans in, pushing his remaining chips into the pot.

"Alright, skinny man." The Devaronian leans back, crossing his arms. "Let's see what makes you so confident."

The silver-robed merchant glares, upper lip twitching. He stiffens, reaching for his cards. He turns one over slowly.

A ten.

Rey holds her breath, eyes fixed on the merchant.

He turns over another.