"Then leave," Gio says, shrugging. "Door's that way. No one's chaining you to the table."
The guy stares at him.
Gio stares back.
The guy looks at me like he's expecting shame. I look right back. I'm not apologizing for knowing how to play. As Gio said, if he doesn't like it, he can go.
He scoffs, shakes his head and grabs his jacket off the back of his chair. "Fuck this, man," he mutters. Then he actually leaves. Gio exhales through his nose like he's bored.
"There we go," he murmurs. "One less crybaby at the table." Everyone at the table is still looking at Gio. He's acting like nothing happened.
He's leaned back in his chair, trying to do those dumb card tricks I showed him earlier. He glances at me over the mess of cards. "What?" he says.
I shrug, holding his gaze. "Nothing."
His eyes narrow a little. "You're staring."
"You did it again," I say.
"Did what?"
"Defended me."
He drops the cards onto the table with this dramatic little sigh and stretches. His shirt rides up and I catch a sliver of his stomach. "Nah," he says. "I would never."
He shoves the cards toward the dealer like he's bored of being alive. I turn back to my side of the table, pretending my face isn't hot.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him lean sideways and casually steal the cigarette from the guy next to him. He puts it between his lips, tilts his head back and blows a perfect smoke ring up into the air.
I watch it float above us. "Don't smoke," I tell him.
His head drops back down. He looks straight at me, amused. "Why?" he asks.
"Every time you smoke, you're literally inhaling over seven thousand chemicals," I say automatically. "A lot of them are toxic, and at least seventy are known carcinogens. And just so you know, your lung tissue doesn't regenerate. Once it's damaged, it's done. You're voluntarily shortening your life expectancy right now."
He holds my stare... and blows another smoke ring.
This time, he aims it right at me.
I glare.
He snubs the cigarette out on the edge of the table with two fingers, flicks the dead butt toward the ashtray, then spreads his arms a little, palms up, liketa-da.
"There," he says. "Happy now? No more cancer stick. You're not gonna say thank you?"
"Don't do things just so people will praise you," I shoot back. "Do them because they're good for you."
The guy next to us lets out a low whistle. "I love you, man," he tells me. "Finally someone humbling his ass. Please continue." I choke on a laugh.
Gio stands up.
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"Bathroom," he says, already turning away.
I look at the guy next to us. He raises both hands.
"He probably got a boner. Good job."
