"Little Miss, Little Miss." Count to three Abby, count to three. Are you OK. Nothing will happen to you. “Little Miss, Little Miss.” Count to ten now, Abby. You'll be fine. He's not holding that gun, he's lying to you. It is not loaded. Are you OK. “I never understand girls like you, little Miss Abby.” He walks around me and hides my hand in his, untangling my tight fingers and taking the band of hundred dollar bills. "Betting your life, and for what?" He lowers his head, to my neck, and breathes slowly, and I know he's trying to make me lose my nerve. "Little Miss Abby: A little cheap thrill? A chance to show you're full of courage?" “Pull the trigger Tiger.” I purr and pull my head back to rest on his chest. “You're the one killing for a cheap dollar.” I smile and take my wad of money from his hands, tossing it to the center of the table. "...and for what? A cheap thrill? A chance to prove you have the courage to pull the trigger?" I feel the barrel of the gun behind my head. One two three. He breathes slowly and I do the same. My fingers tighten on the few straws at my disposal. I run my fingers over the scratch marks that have been left embroidered on the table. I try to determine the amount of force needed for anyone, man or woman, young or old, to claw their way through a solid oak table. Then I remember the situation I had put myself in. I was addicted. I was addicted to the money and the ecstasy of winning. "I have power and I can use that power to bring you down, and I could use that power to crucify me. Do you know what I would choose every time, Missina? I gasp and feel her weight shift behind me. There's a giggle from the... center of the sheet... er, with an element of pity, but with an underlying sadness, knowing that he or I will take a bullet in the head. I feel the barrel of the gun, once again in the back of my head stupid here, young lady? The girl is afraid and cautious with everyone and everything in the dark, but willing to risk her life for nothing. Or the man who is afraid of the truth in the open?” The tiger growls and I look up at him and at a glance I can see the anger radiating from his eyes. The trigger is pressed. He places his lips on my cheeks and lingers there for a moment. I can feel tears filling my eyes. “Do you think I would be in this room, choosing between someone I love and my father, if I wasn't involved?” He pauses and moves to his father's side of the room. I look towards the glass, where Orange looks at me smugly.