[ He laughs a little at the mental image; he doesn’t doubt for a second that Emma could have held her own, imagines her at the card tables in the types of rundown saloons he used to frequent. She probably wouldn’t need any of his tricks – her fiery stare was probably unnerving enough to cow any man into folding.

The challenge in her eyes isn’t new, but the context is – talks of winning and losing. That little smile of hers is familiar, in a way. He’s seen it before countless times, but not on her face. Somehow, it’s not surprising, and it makes him smile all the more. ]

‘Course. Foolish of me to underestimate you.

[ Foolish of anyone to do that, really, but especially of Faraday, considering the types of things he’s seen her do; it’s a habit he needs to break himself of.

When she bridges the cards again, the two packets intermingled but not quite flush, he mimes out the cut he had used before, fingers covering the short edge from the front, his non-dominant hand pulling the two halves apart from the back. He describes the steps as best as he can – but by now, it’s more intuitive than anything he can put into words. It’s a bit of a clumsy explanation, all things considered. ]

The idea is to make it look like an under cut, like you’re takin’ the bottom half and ploppin’ it on top, but really, you’re just putting the cards back in the same order from before you cut ‘em.

You still gotta sell it, though. Make it look natural.