At this point Balot had no clubs in her hand. Only the dealer’s upcard was a club.
Balot was presumably going to sit tight and wait, hoping for the dealer to bust. But no. The second after the Doctor said he would stay,
–Hit.
Balot didn’t even leave a hair’s breadth before calling out her move. The dealer’s reaction was delayed again. As if he were doing everything he could to force himself not to ask her to repeat herself because he hadn’t caught it the first time.
The card came. A 6 on top of her thirteen. The suit was diamonds.
The dealer was staring intently at Balot, trying to work out what was going through her mind.
–Just as I thought, Uncle!
That was all she had to say.
The Doctor didn’t even seem to be paying attention to Balot’s cards at this point; he was, by all appearances, focused intently on his own game. As a result of this further misdirection, the dealer had even less to go on.
Now Balot would take plenty of time to mull over her next hand before choosing to stay, and the dealer would flip over his hidden card with relief, as if he had finally been permitted his turn. Both his hidden card and his upcard were face cards, and the dealer won that hand. Furthermore, both his cards were clubs.
“So close, madamoiselle, my commiserations.”
–Oh, not to worry. My suit just took a little wander over your way, that’s all. They’ll be back in my hand before long, and in greater numbers too.
Sure enough, that was exactly what happened in the next hand. Not that Balot had any way of planning it exactly like that, of course, but when the 2 of clubs appeared in her hand along with the ace of spades, Balot smiled as if to show her theory had been proven right. The dealer nodded in surprise but then seemed to accept her theory that clubs were just “her” suit, and appeared to relax a little. Balot decided to throw him off the scent further. She didn’t even have to wait for an instruction from Oeufcoque.
–Then again, looking at this hand it seems that it’s spades that are coming to my rescue.
Balot said this out loud, deliberately, as the Doctor hesitated over his choice. Then, when it was her turn,
–Sorry to mess you around, clubs, but I think I’m going to have to hit after all.
She drew a face card—clubs.
–As I thought—you did come to my rescue, after all.
She hit again, still speaking apparently to herself. This time she received a 5. Hearts.
–Ah, finally! Thanks for dropping by.
Still prattling inanely to herself, she chose to stay.
–I’ve always bet on hearts, all along, but I think that this heart is particularly worth betting on.
“Well, there’s a stroke of luck for you,” said the Doctor, ever the Doctor, as he stared intently at the dealer’s upcard.
The dealer had a 5 and 7. He drew a picture card and bust.
“You know, you’re exceptionally gifted at predicting the cards. Your uncle never would have guessed that one, you know,” continued the Doctor.
–Yeah. The spade seemed to want to stick his oar in, but the heart went well with the club, so I thought it was worth betting on them to see if it would work out.
“Hmm, I see. You’re having a conversation with the cards, you could say? Talking to them?”
The dealer handed over her winnings with an expression that seemed to suggest that he’d rather Balot kept her conversation for people and let the cards sort themselves out.
The game progressed along similar lines for another few hands, and then Balot had a jack and 10 appear in front of her.
Balot now put on a triumphant air, pointing at her cards.
–I was waiting for these! See! I knew my clubs would come crawling back to me before too long. A little too late, though, don’t you think, Uncle? I don’t really need them anymore.
The Doctor just nodded, somewhat carelessly.
Balot was the only one to win that hand.
She received her winnings but pushed them over to one side, apparently uninterested by the chips—bored by them, almost.
She could almost hear the dealer’s state of confusion cranking up a notch.
At this point the dealer should really have given up on trying to read Balot, taken stock, and just continued with a level head; he still had the house edge on his side, after all, and it wasn’t as if the house had started losing heavily yet. It wasn’t even his own money that he was losing. But the dealer was determined to crack Balot, to work out what she was thinking. His smile remained, but it was growing more and more strained.
–Does this person still want to bankrupt me, Oeufcoque?
–It seems so. Of course, all that’s really happening is that he’s losing the plot.
–Why is he even that bothered? It’s just a job for him, isn’t it?
–That’s the sort of person he is, no doubt. He needs to be in control. Trouble is, the dealer doesn’t really have any direct influence over his own game. Take away the natural advantage that he has by playing to the rules and the dealer’s not much more than a bystander, after all.
–I see that.
–The trouble is, there are some dealers who try and use that natural advantage as a shield, stepping out of line and going over and above the call of duty to try and get more. This dealer is a perfect example of that: he’s cold, calculating, and very, very good at parting punters from their money. The corollary of this is that he needs to be in control at all times—he’s the dominating type. And that’s something that we can use to our own advantage in so many ways.
It wasn’t long before the Doctor picked up on the turn of events and pitched in wholeheartedly to their strategy of befuddling the dealer. He nodded along at Balot’s impenetrable statements and threw back a few of his own for good measure.
“I must say, I’m most impressed, O niece of mine. It seems like I’ve created a monster!” The Doctor praised her conspicuously and lavishly, virtually forcing the dealer to follow suit. The dealer wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to be praising, of course. Before long he found himself talking in the most abstract of terms: most impressive, wonderful, how perceptive of madamoiselle.
The game reached its middle stages, and another instruction came from Oeufcoque.
–Try changing your posture now. When the next hand comes, cross your legs.
Balot did as she was told, crossing her legs as soon as her second card was on the table.
The dealer shouldn’t really have been able to see under the table, of course, but nevertheless he seemed intently focused on her actions.
–Right, now for the next few hands, try shifting your position constantly—from left to right, as if you’re trying to see the cards out of the corner of your eye.
The Doctor hit and received his card. His total was now seventeen, and he stayed. During this, Balot shifted her body so that her back was half turned to the Doctor.
It became her turn, and she hit on fourteen to take her up to eighteen.
Instead of responding immediately, she crossed her legs again, looked at the cards from the left corner of her field of vision, and declared her intention to stay.