“Hmm, couldn’t quite increase my pile as quickly as I would have liked,” said the old man, apparently out of nowhere. As he did so he called over one of the attendants to have him fetch his hat and coat. It was all Balot could do not to show her disbelief on her face.
The old man rose. He did have plenty of chips left, of course. But—incredibly, to Balot—he passed them all over to the lady. Grinning, the lady took hold of them all. The old man was telling the whole table, in deed and in word, that he’d had his fill of fun for the day. Then he sauntered over to the bar.
–The inevitable conclusion for a proud player. He knows himself well enough, including his own limits. Rather than tire himself out, carry on past the point of his concentration, and start losing, he’d rather quit while he’s ahead. He presents his lady with her bounty, the spoils of his conquest, then withdraws while the going is still good, his head held high.
Balot was stunned. She hadn’t even considered the old man’s psychology, his inner workings. It was only now that Oeufcoque pointed all this out that she started to wonder how the old man had come to be with the lady in the first place—what he offered her and what he sought from her in return.
–So, how did you enjoy our little game?
–Not much. I didn’t win either time.
–Still, it’s fulfilled its objective.
–Objective?
–You were talking to me, focusing on our little side bet, which meant that your mind was taken off the dealer’s wiles. I was concerned that he might have left a powerful impression on you otherwise—one that might have distracted you from our ultimate goal.
Balot had had an inkling all along that this was what Oeufcoque had been doing, but now that he had confirmed it to her so bluntly she wasn’t really sure what to say to him. As she searched for the words, Oeufcoque continued in a somewhat mischievous tone.
–You see, when it comes to influencing you, I’ve got a massive
advantage over the dealer. He doesn’t have any way of speaking to you directly, after all.
Balot’s brow wrinkled ever so slightly at Oeufcoque’s tactlessness.
–There’s no need to tease me about it.
–The thing is, now that you know how this sort of manipulation works, you’re going to be on the lookout for it. It’s going to be much easier for you to resist. Not only that, if you play your cards right—metaphorically as well as literally—then you’ll be able to turn the tables, work out exactly what the dealer is trying to do, and use it to manipulate him.
Oeufcoque casually added a throwaway remark:
–Because neither the Doctor nor I would be able to manipulate the dealer in the way that we’ll need to in order to win big.
This wasn’t a question of impressions or influence or manipulation anymore. Neither was it a matter of whether what they were doing was right or wrong—it wasn’t a big deal, in the grander scheme of things. The only really important question now was this: was Balot up to the task?
–I want to believe you, Oeufcoque. Both you and the Doctor. Is that a bad thing? Am I being manipulated?
–That’s a judgment call for you to make, after you’ve honed your own decision-making faculties. All I can say is that this is the path that you’ve chosen in order to try and solve your case.
