[To be fair, Zack needed the intervention of a chip flying at his face to break his concentration on a game he's very clearly losing. It's not for lack of trying, but every "clever" play he makes seems to be about three steps behind the rest of the table.
He's good at taking shots and hitting things. Calling shots is something else entirely, and it's not a talent he's seemed to have mastered yet.
The distraction has him jumping suddenly, his bright blue eyes moving upward finally from the table, and every bit of confusion he feels right now is laid bare in them.]
A side bet?
[No, Zack, walk away. That would be what logic told him if he weren't suddenly intrigued by the prospect of maybe getting an upper hand in the situation (if only just a small one, in the larger scheme of things).]
You going to tell me what it is before I shake on it?
Sorry this took so long!
He's good at taking shots and hitting things. Calling shots is something else entirely, and it's not a talent he's seemed to have mastered yet.
The distraction has him jumping suddenly, his bright blue eyes moving upward finally from the table, and every bit of confusion he feels right now is laid bare in them.]
A side bet?
[No, Zack, walk away. That would be what logic told him if he weren't suddenly intrigued by the prospect of maybe getting an upper hand in the situation (if only just a small one, in the larger scheme of things).]
You going to tell me what it is before I shake on it?