[ Byerly Rutyer is good at Wicked Grace. He's good at bluffing, he's good at lying. So the fact that he's losing to Il Calabrone, a man so insufferable that he gave himself a nickname, is - Well -
Well, it surely doesn't come from Byerly's lack of skill. He's just having a run of bad luck, that's all.
He's walked away from the table to regroup. "Another glass of brandy, gents," he's saying as he goes, and somehow manages to keep from gnashing his teeth when Molinari cackles about how of course he needs something to steady his hands. There's nothing he wants more than a real drink when he stands at the bar, but he orders (as is his wont in situations like this) nothing more than a bit of water to which he adds a few drops of brown dye. And then he turns, and sees -
open: Wicked Grace tournament
Well, it surely doesn't come from Byerly's lack of skill. He's just having a run of bad luck, that's all.
He's walked away from the table to regroup. "Another glass of brandy, gents," he's saying as he goes, and somehow manages to keep from gnashing his teeth when Molinari cackles about how of course he needs something to steady his hands. There's nothing he wants more than a real drink when he stands at the bar, but he orders (as is his wont in situations like this) nothing more than a bit of water to which he adds a few drops of brown dye. And then he turns, and sees -
Someone to help him. Thank the Maker. ]
You.
[ He jerks his chin. ]
I need you to cause a distraction.