Her eyes focus on the rhythmic dance of the cards. It keeps them steady when they feel... shaky, still. It's been so long, but they still can't find even ground most days.
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With a bottle offered, he finishes the shuffle. He knew he had a thick accent and he could see her mind working to understand it. It no longer bothered Jacks as it once had. Everybody was always figuring stuff out all the time, speech was no different.
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Jacks hadn’t had the luxury of knowing loss in the way Gil spoke of it. People had to stay around for them to be your friend.
He notices her eyes following the +
“You kn’ how to shuffle?” He asked, trying to steer the topic to something less… gloomy on his new playing buddy.
"Most of my games have been around a campfire or at a tavern. There was a casino once. They get angry if you try to shuffle...
Where'd [you] learn to shuffle?"
They lean far to grab a bottle of something light from their supplies, holding it up questioningly - offering to share.
“Mah cousin. His fowk +
A trade was offered; the bottle for the deck. As Gil split the deck, Jacks took a swig… unless a cup was offered. That made it proper like.