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Polnareff had lost his bet, and D'Arby had taken his soul—and if the Crusaders wanted it back, they had to keep gambling.
Avdol nearly lost his cool and killed him, but D'Arby justified the use of his own pet cat as a trick with the adage, "it's not cheating if you're not caught." Gambling was a game of social relations, not skill. Everyone cheated. It was just a matter of convincing your opponent that you deserve the win. And if he died, so would everyone whose souls he had stolen. Avdol had no choice but to back off.
If the group wanted Polnareff's soul back, they needed to keep gambling.
But D'Arby's mantra—you're not cheating if you're not caught—was a life philosophy of Joseph's. He'd cheated many times. Cheated at cards, cheated on his wife, cheated death itself. Now that he was back in his youth he was confident.
He pulled a cloth drawstring bag from behind his back.
"W—what? Where did you get that?" Avdol asked.
"Did you pull that bag out from your ass or something?" asked Jotaro.
Joseph smirked and dropped it on D'Arby's table, but his grin faded when the bag made a noise like the muffled crash of glass. He opened it and poured it out. Fifty-four wooden blocks covered in a strange, dripping film clattered atop the table along with shards of a glass bottle. Joseph picked out the largest pieces and threw them out. "We'll, er, deal with the small pieces while we're playing."
D'Arby squinted. "Jenga?"
"I'd like to challenge you to a game." He dramatically pointed at him. "The rules are simple: we take turns removing blocks from the tower, and the one who causes it to fall loses. You may only use one hand to remove the blocks. I wager my soul, you'll wager Dio's location and Polnareff's soul."
"Deal."
"And to make sure I don't cheat, you'll assemble the tower and go first. Jotaro and Avdol will keep track of you and make sure you aren't cheating."
Avdol gulped, but he obeyed. D'Arby didn't seem to do anything explicitly suspicious—though he took his sweet time building the tower and choosing which blocks to go where. He was cheating somehow, but there was nothing they could do with just a hunch other than continue to observe him.
Joseph sat down. He seemed much less confident than when he introduced the game. More contemplative. He placed his elbows on the tables and folded his hands together, resting them against his lips. D'Arby smiled politely and took the middle block from near the top and stacked it. Simple, though the block felt oddly greasy. Joseph took a middle block slightly lower. D'Arby took the next one down.
When Joseph tried to take the piece between the two initial moves, he pushed it through for an inch or so before flinching—broken glass. The blocks above his finger shifted a little, but thankfully nothing serious. His wound didn't break the skin.
D'Arby smiled as he glanced up at Jotaro and Avdol, the latter trembling and the former glaring. It couldn't have been a coincidence that he avoided that block. But did it count as cheating? What would D'Arby do if falsely accused?
"Old man…" Jotaro stepped over towards him. He'd kept the derogatory nickname despite Joseph only looking a few years older than his grandson. "Are you sure about this one?"
"Of course! I'm Joseph Joestar, after all."
His younger self was so different from how he acted after maturing. Not to mention the English accent. But he still had all his memories throughout life and he couldn't hide his base ways of acting. Jotaro could tell how fast the gears in his head were turning. Despite playing relaxed, he had a detailed, adapting plan. This would be no easy win.
For his next turn, D'Arby chose a risker maneuver: a block on the side, halfway down to the bottom. He was plotting something and Joseph needed to figure out what it was. Did he set up a reason to cheat, or was this pure sportsmanlike strategy?
Block after block, turn after turn, the tower grew higher and less stable. The only reasonable options were near the bottom. So he took the block on the side, the other already gone. He placed it on the top.
The tower wobbled.
D'Arby grinned triumphantly. "I think I'll wait before taking that block."
A slight breeze came in from outside and the tower leaned to the side. Avdol bit his fingers. Jotaro blinked one eye.
But Joseph smirked. "Next you'll say, 'Your soul is mine, Joseph Joestar! The tower has crumbled!'"
"Your soul is mine, Joseph Joestar! The tower has crumbled!" Shocked that Joseph predicted his next line, he shot from his seat.
The tower was diagonal, but still fully intact. Sunny energy crackled from the wood. "You secretly rotated the other blocks in that row on your turn, hoping I'd either pull it out straight and pull the tower over or push it out diagonally. So I went with your plan. But there's one thing you forgot—now that I'm young again, I'm full of Hamon energy!"
"But—you—" He touched one of the blocks. It wasn't an illusion.
"That bottle in the bag was full of olive oil, which conducts Hamon wonderfully. Since it spilled all over the table when I dumped out the bag, it's like electricity in water—I don't have to touch the tower to use it."
D'Arby licked his fingers. Olive oil, absolutely.
"And since I put the block on the top, it's officially your turn. You even touched it! So I can let the tower fall… and you'll be the loser."
He did as he said. The tower crumbled, blocks spilling over the table and onto the floor.
Polnareff's soul floated from the book of casino chips and back into his body. He woke up, dazed.
"But isn't that cheating?" D'Arby squeaked.
"The game ended before you realized I'd done anything—and it wasn't as if Hamon use was outlined in the rules. And you said it best yourself: it's not cheating if you're not caught. I knew you'd try to trick me with the glass. But once you did, I was sure it was right to use Hamon."
D'Arby, defeated, gave up the location to Dio's mansion, and Jotaro never learned anything about the concept of poker.