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“Uno.”
Clementine glances down at the deck, then at Gabe’s one card, and then at her own five. “What? I just gave you a plus four, like, two minutes ago!”
Coddling the last precious piece of paper in his hand, he leans back against the brick wall, his grin illuminated by the fire sitting nearby. “I told you, Clem, I’m just good at cards.”
“ I’m just good at cards, ” she mocks, deciding what color to risk before settling on red. “Easy to say for someone who apparently only played cards for the last six years.”
“You’re good at literally everything except cards, though.” He flicks his last card into the deck, whistling victoriously. “Unless you want to go on an adventure to find out what other inanimate objects hate you. I’m not objecting.”
She can’t lay down the cards just yet, staring at them, considering her life choices. She has never felt such hate for inanimate objects.
“But- what? What? It’s just- it’s just fucking cards! If there was more skill involved, okay, sure, but cards? How do you get good at cards? Shut up!” She covers her face with her hands as Gabe bursts into laughter. “I’m seriously asking!”
“You just figure out the best way to like, place them and stuff! Also, not to call you a bad liar, but you get your point across very well, intentionally or not!” Clementine raises an eyebrow in confusion, and he sighs. “Like, it’s very easy to tell you have a plus four, Clem. Not that it’s a bad thing. Just makes it easier for me to win.”
Getting colder, Clementine sulks and lays another stick into the fire instead of responding. Gabe scoots closer, bumps his knee into hers with a smile. “But, hey- you get to learn from the best. Won’t quite beat me, but what’s to say, you meet another card enthusiast? Your card knowledge will come in handy.”
“I don’t think people care about cards these days, Gabe,” Clementine says sheepishly, looks at him from the corner of her eye apologetically. “I haven’t seen a deck ever since this started. Well, except for yours and the ones we somehow stumbled upon.”
“But they’re still in the places we visit! And look-” Gabe grabs one of his more complicated card decks they found at the gas station weeks ago. He filters through the cards, singles some out and points out dried spots of blood resembling fingerprints. “Someone was carrying these when they died. I’m telling you, we’ll run into another card enthusiast one day. Maybe I’ll finally have a chance of losing a match.”
Clementine pouts at the end. “As if you let anyone beat you at cards. You crumbled the minute I was close to winning that one time.”
“You were cheating!”
“Was not!”