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Thinly pressed lips concealed clenched teeth, grinding mindlessly together out of an emotion that could only be described as pure annoyance.
Sigma would have choked out a strangled scream - a frustrated scream - if only it weren’t for the fear of it carrying down the hall where he knew at least one or two guests would be hanging around, winding down for the evening. The sheer thought of having to explain the sound to them without truly explaining his predicament felt way worse than the annoyance that urged such a response, yet considering how truly disgruntled he found himself, the option had been considered far too thoroughly that he would’ve liked. Sweat prickling at his furrowed brow, Sigma settled for a lengthy sigh, expelling only a fraction of his exasperation, but enough to not blow his top and shriek miserably.
Truly, the man was terribly at dealing with stress.
"Siiiiiiig, you've gone awfully quiet!" A sharp grin flashes itself at him, a lingering ominous feeling brought with it, "Cat got your tongue?"
Shooting a sharp glare, he frowned. Before him, the clown teetered about and preened with the unadulterated joy of annoying Sigma, to which said person derived no happiness nor enjoyment from. His eyes flickered down to the man's hands, a groan of frustration barely caught in his throat, stifled with great effort in a fruitless attempt to appear somewhat unaffected.
"You're bending the cards."
"Seems I might be bending a bit more than that!" his eyes glimmer with self-satisfaction, "Cheer up, love!"
Miserably, he sighs once more, leaning over and coaxing the bent card from the other's hand (gently, far too gentle for his current level of irritation), and setting it aside with a slow, remorseful demeanour. Internally, a note had been made to toss the set away after the session, already predicting more cards to fall casualties to the clown's self instated liberties.
Nevertheless, with swift but careful fingers, he slides all the cards upon the table into a neat stack - 51 total, with the crumpled one set aside, discarded - and begins shuffling them nimbly, fingers moving as though pulled by invisible strings, putting on a performance of sorts. The way they moved was a product of practice and honed skill, with the act having been done countless times prior, sometimes in flashy ways, and other times in a less than boastful fashion, such as now.
(After all, what need did Sigma have to impress or amaze the clown before him? It wasn’t like he couldn’t do that just by acting as any normal person would - Nikolai was easily impressed by simple responses such as shock and annoyance, so, really, there was no need to put on a show of any kind, not for him.)
Sigma glances up momentarily and catches Nikolai's keen gaze, devouring his motions with an unnamed emotion he realises he can't quite figure out.
Still, it feels like it's for the best that he doesn't let his mind linger on the topic, spreading the stack in his palm slightly, and letting the tips of his fingers slip each individual card off the top, placing the first to the side and then two more in front of the man opposite him - all face down. Another two follow, placed before himself in the same fashion, and finally three more towards the middle, face up.
"Listen carefully this time. I won't be repeating."
"Fine, fine!" He waves the other off theatrically, "Promise-" He flings up a hand, smallest finger perked up, "pinky promise! That I'll listen extra well for precious little Sig!"
"Hmph."
"I swear, I will, I will!"
Puffing his annoyance away in a short breath, Sigma begins his explanation with quick fingers, tapping at the cards toward the centre with an extended index.
"These," he emphasizes, "are called the flop. They're cards which can be used by all players to strengthen their hand. They'll help when deciding your bets."
Nikolai merely nods, making a notable effort to sit still and be quiet as Sigma spouts out the rules methodically.
"The flop is the key to winning a game of poker since it'll inform you of all the information needed to strategically fold, call, or raise. We won’t do any of that, though, since it’s just us."
“Ahh, I see…” He nods with a faux understanding, “Could my precious angel explain that for me?”
Pausing, processing the question - the wording, rather - the man's brows furrowed in confusion, mouth gaping to find a word.
Lightly, the other chuckles.
"Caught off guard, are we?"
Clearing his throat, he hums sharply, "If you see that there are three of the same suit on the table - perhaps one coming from the turn card - and you don't have a matching fourth, you can presume another player holds it."
Gesturing gently towards the cards face down, Sigma picks up his, prompting Nikolai to follow suit. His eyes swiftly scan the two pieces trapped between thin fingers before pursing his lips, thinking with a moderate level of concentration.
Amongst the two cards there is a three and a five of different suits, and Sigma casts his gaze towards the flop, considering the four of hearts placed in the middle. Whilst the other two consist of an ace of spades and an ace of clubs, he begins to weigh his chances with the turn and the river - the subsequent fifth card revealed by the dealer - having a two or six to gain himself a straight.
He sets his own cards aside and props his hands upon the table, neatly folding them.
"Are you ready for the next turn?"
"Ready only if you are, sugar!"
Sigma grumbles slightly.
"Those nicknames are rather bothersome."
"Ah, shall I call you my songbird instead? Perhaps my sweet angel? Or if you're a fan of the classics, darling is sitting there, waiting eagerly for your interest!"
Sigma, lost for words, frowned.
"Hmph."
Once more, his hands reach for the deck, burning one card to the side before taking another and placing it face up - the turn card.
It's one of spades. Sigma puffs despondently, considering his opponents options. Right now, a three of a kind could be played with the aces. A two pair was also an option if the other held another one. Alternatively, with those aces, a four of a kind, whilst unlikely, was possible.
Essentially, Sigma still held a higher value hand than most of the options if the next card would be a six or two, and the odds of that were not too slim, but a little out of reach to feel too comfortable.
"Are we done yet, lovely?"
Glancing up, he noted how Nikolai had shifted greatly in his seat, the product of his contemplation and lack of attention paid towards the clown. He had the tendency to fidget and grow restless when understimulated, so Sigma quickly played the next cards to satiate the other’s bustling mind.
After burning the first, the river card was settled on the table, face up once more. To Sigma's delight, it's a two of spades, and he vaguely conceals a beam of joy at the realisation. Without need for further contemplation, he sets his cards down on the table and leans forward, resting on a palm.
Nikolai's eyes flitter prettily.
Sigma regrets the thought ever so slightly, reconfiguring it.
His eyes flitter with intent focus, giving away nothing but still glimmering with a hint of something - probably mischief, as per usual.
Nevertheless, a moment passes, and he sets his cards down, smiling gently at Sigma in response.
"Shall we?"
Sigma nods, flipping his cards face up with a swift motion that told of thousands of games of practice. He waits eagerly for Nikolai to follow his action, but finds his lip being worried between his teeth at the result.
Brows furrow as they always do when Sigma finds himself stuck for words.
"I believe they call this a flush," he smiles, although it curls almost like a smirk, "strange name, isn't it?
And indeed he had a flush, with a queen of spades and king of spades to accompany the other three cards on the table of the same suit. Sigma notes uselessly in his mind that the game has been lost and feels a pool of disappointment at the situation, chastising himself briskly for having not considered this an option even at the obvious signs.
Nikolai thumbs at the corner of a card, bending it in the process as he had with the one prior to the game. Sigma once again reaches over, pulling at his fingers with a gentleness not uncharacteristic but surprisingly tender considering everything, before securing the card and setting it aside.
"I hope that was a good demonstration of the game, but of course, in practice you'd have to make the choices of folding between rounds - then again, I suppose both our hands were good."
"Aw, Sig, cheer up! It's all chance, is it not?"
"Well..."
He stretches back, arms thrown behind his head as they follow the motion - a few pops sound, but not too noisily. Nikolai maintains eye contact, eyes twinkling as they always do.
"In any case, it isn't my first time, and I'd like to say," he leans back in, a strange glint in the eye that had a scar, "what a wonderful teacher you are."
Blinking eyes stare at him with bewilderment for a moment, before Sigma clears his throat and busies himself with collecting the cards.
"I was under the impression you hadn't played before, otherwise why would you ask to be taught?"
"Awww, silly! Guess!"
Typically, Sigma would be impartial to Nikolai's requests for guessing games - it annoyed him to no end when the taller would insist he "guess again!" after countless tries and still no answer having been spared. Yet, now, he tries racking his brain, this time slightly curious.
"You've grown rusty?"
"Hmmm, not quite! C'mon, I know my darling Sig has got it at the tip of his tongue," Nikolai smiles slyly, mischief evident in both his tone and his demeanour, "entertain me, love."
Truly, he had no idea.
Perhaps it had been to pester him in an elaborate way, especially considering the terribly rocky start. The entire time, Nikolai had been whining and complaining and bemoaning until Sigma finally became stern and less passive, having lost the ability to be patient. It worked, surprisingly, and from this experience he would note to put his foot down more often when the clown played his tricks. But, really, this whole charade seemed too suspicious to end at that.
Bringing a thumb and index to toy with his own lip in thought, Sigma scrunched his nose, somewhat more annoyed at the inability to figure out the purpose of the endeavour than what had taken place within it.
Nikolai chortles.
"That pretty little brain up there is cooking up a storm, I can practically hear its whirring."
He groans weakly, "Do I really have to guess?"
Sigma's fingers detach themselves from his lips as he retrains his focus back to cleaning up. His hands are soon filled with a full stack of cards - well, two short - and he slots them back into the pack they came from, with a hint of annoyance.
"It'd make a clown really, really, reaaaally happy!"
He sighs.
"Wanted another point of view?"
"Nope!"
“Bored?”
“Not quite!”
At this point he's done with the pack and tosses it to the side of the table where it lay slightly askew. Nikolai reaches over to straighten it out before leaning on his elbows and cupping his face in two palms, staring expectantly at the other.
Tapping a thoughtful finger to his chin, he contemplates further.
It wouldn't be entirely unlikely that this indeed was an elaborate ruse simply to pester him. In the time they spent together, which, following Nikolai's less than graceful rescuing of him, had been a few months now, Sigma had gotten a rather good grasp on the man's personality and his behaviour. Yet, a lot had still been left as a mystery, considering his unwillingness to open up beyond the bounds of his façade, which he made sure to remind Sigma of on occasion. It had been frustrating at first, especially when everything Sigma did had been a marvel to the other, and yet everything Nikolai did had been a mystery - a difficult, and irritating mystery.
Whilst Sigma would speak his mind freely, Nikolai still was an unopened box with the padlock tauntingly stuck on it. Whenever he had seemed to get a little too comfortable, revealing a bit too much of what truly lay behind his mask (the figurative one, at least), he'd quickly flip the switch in his mind and return to the playful jester act he put on (typically) without fail.
It bothered Sigma in a way, for various reasons.
One notably being that Nikolai made it fairly clear that only Fyodor could see beyond the façade, and all he could ever hope was to one day be able to do the same, be it of his own accord or with the help of Nikolai himself.
Regardless, he pulled his mind back to the current predicament, considering his remaining options.
Perhaps Nikolai was using the opportunity to distract him. Still, the question remained: from what? If anything, that would be a cause for concern, however, as Fyodor still lived and their plan had not been enacted, Sigma doubted the other truly planned anything sinister, so the worry dissipated just as quickly as it had formed.
"It's rather sweet how much you're trying for me, Sig."
The voice mused, but without the playful tune. If anything, it felt rather contemplative, perhaps reminiscent, but not quite - as though forlorn, or missing a feeling never before felt, maybe in the way déjà vu plagues the mind.
Decidedly, he chooses to ignore the leaking emotion in fear of ruining the sound, for it had been a pretty one, Sigma believes.
Yes, Nikolai had seemed rather… pretty… as of late. No - not only as of late, but for much longer. Still, Sigma steered away from indulging in such thoughts, the feelings that arose always feeling like a wave of electricity coursing through his bones, like an unwelcome visitor intruding forcefully, taking claim of his wits and leaving only bewilderment (a shameful sense of it, no less). It would lead to madness - mind-numbing madness - if he tried to comprehend it.
Some things were better left alone, at least for himself, he settled on.
In any case, none of this solved the subject of his little guessing game.
"Gogol, I apologize, but I-"
"It's simple, really.” He mutters, before brightening his tone, “What business do I have learning a game I'm already proficient in, hm?”
Sigma cast a puzzled glance.
“If that's the case, perhaps it's not the game itself but instead…" He smiles, a feigned sense of bashfulness barely concealing bubbling excitement, "Ah, excuse me! Almost spoiled the fun!"
"Not the game itself…"
"Yes, yes."
Sigma gnaws at his lip, seriously considering the hint.
Before his expression drops into a look of displeasure.
"You…” He frowns deeply, “You just wanted attention, didn't you?"
"Ding, ding, ding!" he preens, "I always knew my cookie was a smartie!"
"Nikolai, if you wanted my attention-"
"Now, now, no need to worry about the ifs and buts! What say we go out to the casino floor and I show you my real skill, hm?"
Sigma sighs.
Though, he can't seem to settle the warm fuzz that swims around his gut.
It's a nice feeling to be wanted, not used. Wanted purely for one’s presence and understanding, beyond things such as skill and expertise but rather the intricate and complex inner workings of oneself - their character and nothing more; a lovely feeling close to admiration or adoration springs up from such a situation. That’s what Sigma feels when Nikolai does those things for something as simple as his attention.
(Surprisingly, the clown engaged in these theatrics often for small things such as a glance or a chuckle or a sigh from the casino manager, and Sigma could never quite figure out what made him enjoy his attention so greatly, even if brief.)
And, whilst he isn't entirely sure on whether he is being played like a pawn by the other just as Fyodor had done, or if the clown sees him as an equal, he allows the sensation to take its course.
This, does, of course, lead to the less than subtle tint in his cheeks.
"Aw, did I upset my pretty Sig? Come, come,” He beckons, having stood up abruptly and thrown his overcoat on, “I'll make it up to you, promise!"
Shaking his head, his lips twitch upward at the corners before he clears his throat and schools an indifferent poker face.
"Hmph. If you insist."