Death silently draws another card from the deck and slips it into his hand as though it has always belonged there.
The Devil, meanwhile, lightly taps two fingers against his cards. Thoughtful. Almost bored.
"You know," he says suddenly, "most people eventually make the same mistake in games like this. They start looking for hope."
I slowly discard a card.
"And that's a bad thing?"
"Hope makes you careless."
Death raises his head slightly.
"So does despair."
For a brief moment, the Devil falls silent.
Apparently, he's not accustomed to being contradicted.
I look down at my hand again.
Still three kings.
Still good.
But I'm beginning to understand that good cards alone probably won't be enough here.
Suddenly, the Devil leans forward a little.
"Since we're already talking about having a say in things..."
Oh, no.
His eyes gleam with amusement.
"How would you like it?"
I stare at him blankly.
Of course I know what he's getting at.
"What?"
"Your ending, of course."
He says it with the same casual ease someone might use to ask what you'd like to order at an Italian restaurant.
Death remains silent.
"There are options, after all," the Devil continues casually.
"Quick. Slow. Dramatic. Tragic. Heroic. Ironic."
"Ironic?" I ask dryly.
His grin widens.
"The universe loves irony."
Does it?
The Devil glances at his whiskey glass.
"Drowning is unpleasant," Death suddenly mutters.
"So is burning."
"Oh, please." The Devil waves a dismissive hand. "At least fire has style."
"Nero probably thought so, too," Death murmurs dryly.
The Devil raises a finger indignantly.
"That wasn't my idea."
"But you were there."
"Of course I was there."
The Devil looks down at his cards and beams.
"Events like that make me feel personally invited."
I stare at them both.
"Are you seriously discussing historical disasters the way other people discuss football games?"
"History keeps repeating itself," Death murmurs calmly.
The Devil grins with satisfaction.
"And humans never fail to provide fresh material."
I take a long swallow of beer.
Somehow, alcohol has suddenly become the most sensible thing at this table.
"How about a crashing zeppelin?"
I stare at him.
"A zeppelin?"
The Devil nods enthusiastically.
"Lots of fire. Lots of chaos. People love drama."
Death slowly raises his eyes from his cards.
"Excellent idea," he murmurs dryly.
The Devil immediately breaks into a broad grin.
"Isn't it?"
"Especially at a quarter to three in the morning," Death continues, studying the ace of spades he discarded earlier as though it were a tiny masterpiece. "As everyone knows, that's when the skies are absolutely packed with zeppelins."
For a moment, silence fills the room.
The Devil, who has just taken a sip of whiskey, makes a face as though someone has mixed vinegar into his drink.
I, on the other hand, can't suppress a wry smile.
The Devil is still shaking his head in mild disgust.
"You really know how to ruin a perfectly good catastrophe."
Death continues calmly studying the ace of spades on the table.
"Hanging would be straightforward," he suddenly murmurs.
I stare at him.
"Excuse me?"