Eyes drift to the window, rattling noisily with rain, then back to Ico. She nods, hesitantly. "Two weeks, and if I win, I get to kick you in the balls." Sure, it likely won't really hurt him, but it'll at least be satisfying.

A sharp laugh! "Acceptable." Chuckling, he leans back, then he leans forwards again. "But you'd best be careful. Like this, you are already beginning to sink... into the mire. Recover, recover quickly, because you can't expect me to help you at all."

Suddenly, there was a change of expression. "Oh, I suppose we shouldn't waste time." Grinning to Elise, he stood... then walked over to the window, standing up on Elise's bed to do so. And then... he leaned out, far out. What the hell? He was reaching down now, bent at the waist and reaching downwards towards something... and presenting a rather tempting target, actually.

Eyes follow his body. She moves after him, slowly, cautiously watching his movements, bat still in hand, carefully examining body language, insuring he can't see her. She's tempted to push him. So tempted to push him. That said.... He can't see her. He knows he can't see her. He put himself in that position. Sneaky little fuck. What's he leaning out the window for? Fuckitall, she's not running the risk that he's secretly dangling Revi out the window, that he's tempting her to splattering her friend against the pavement. Her voice is just over his shoulder, a growl.

"What's the game?"

A brief grin. It would have been fun, but she did not. Sensible... Elise forced herself to pull back her emotions, restraining them. But she didn't hold back. That was what was interesting. Fear alone would have left her where she sat... another step. Every little step was important, as they all were. And now there were only so more many steps to set up...

"Oh, that's a good question. I've overused this one, far too much... but I think it's becoming one of my favorites. We could give it a try... yes. This one should be plenty enough..." A chuckle to himself, as he begins to pull back... and as he pulls back, he pulls on a rope. Drawing it back, drawing it in, he begins to raise something that undoubtedly must have been hanging from the windowsill... and he leans back out, struggling to pull in...

A large, broad, wooden box. It was polished, and looked tightly sealed, even from the rain and wind. Carefully, he turns, placing it on her bed... sheets moisten, droplets sliding off and leaving a wet square, not that she'll notice. As what's more interesting is the box itself... it could be about two feet by three, maybe a bit larger. On it's back, a black, burnt etch of a butterfly colored it, many-petaled flowers resembling something like iris's decorating the corners. And it had a prominent brass latch, a keyhole marking the lock....

She watches him with a cynical eye, arms crossed under slight chest, guard seemingly dropped for the moment. Her head is canted just slightly to the side, slow smirk playing on lips. "Doesn't look like a Monopoly board, unless it's a special edition." She should have pushed him out of the window. Totally should have pushed him out of the window. Smug little cunt. Eyes trail tightly over the box, reading the carefully etched design with critical eyes. She shrugs. So what. she seems to say.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"This... is my box of things." He raises an eyebrow back at her. "Are you sure you're ready? Once I open this, there's no turning back." An impish grin now, as he watches Elise with a bemused expression.

"I have to warn you... you still haven't heard even half. There's still a lot you don't know... so while you stride ahead, there's a lot you are missing. But I'll give you a break... I'm pretty sure I know the nature of the questions you'll ask, so you don't have to give me a sample." He sways where he stands in that manner he seems to favor, eyebrows raised. Definitely, the bastard was teasing her, annoying her, on purpose.

And then, more of his whimsical, almost rhyming games... "I should probably tell you, you shouldn't rely on my help. Oh, I know you wonder... but it's part of my rules, you see. For everything I give, there is something I take. For everything I take, there's something I give."

"Tt. You ask me to make a wager, offer me little in return, withhold the rules of the game, the very nature of the game until we are ready to start, and then you mock me about how little I know?" She pinches the bridge of her nose irritably as the creature keeps yammering on. "It's starting to sound like you'd rather not play, like you're scared of what threat I might pose but that doesn't sound right. No. You just like the sound of your own voice, don't you, you little cunt? I tell you what. I've got a tape recorder laying around here somewhere. How's this for a trade? I give you that, you record your voice and rub one off in the bathroom. Trust me. We'll both find more pleasure in the outcome."

Not as smart as it thinks it is. Hmph. But it holds the cards and she's forced to improvise. She watches him, tightly, head running through her options. Her head tilts. "Alright then. So what exactly have you 'given me' so far? Aside from the absolute charming presence of your company, of course."

His expression brightens just a touch, and he grins impishly. "Afraid? Every step is important..." He said aloud to himself, then smiled back at her.

"And yes, I do. But it's important. I'm warning you, because you should be aware... if I am not careful, you'll simply bitch and moan and whine, like so many girls here. You are used to that. How unfair it is, how we cheat and steal... but you get no sympathy from me. You should know, then, the meaning of what I said. If you give something up freely, foolishly, I will give nothing. I will take all that you have, all that you foolishly give. And if I give something, don't forget what you might be losing... and what you might lose. But, I'm sure you noticed this by now!"

His smile turned into a dark grin now... "And... If you aren't aware what is lost, what is gained, then that's your loss, you're own ignorance. But for a start, what you have been given... you will have the right to choose... you can decide the stakes, or the game... after this, you can choose, which to choose... this time, however, a chance to learn, instead. At half, stakes are low, a loss forgivable... Next time, you will instead have that choice... have that, and the time to prepare for it, because things will not be so forgiving."


Raising his eyebrows at her, he crooks a finger in her direction. "You, who are obsessed with the rules... I've shared another, but one with caution. Everything I give, has a price... so don't ask for what you aren't willing to pay for. And another, a hint perhaps... the letter of the law is one thing, but the spirit of those rules is what's important... scoff, laugh, snort if you will. But this is the thing that will kill you or save you... the thread you will need to survive."


Carefully, he lifted up the latch, slipping a tiny key out from his hand, and carefully unlocking the case... "As for this game, much afeared..." Inside, the box was filled with... a lot of things. The first thing she notices is a folded chessboard... as well, about a dozen decks of cards, locked in shrinkwrap. A smaller wooden box, marked with kanji, also sits in there, with a leather top decorated with an old Chinese image of some kind. She also spotted a few small bags, filled various pieces... tiles and things for various games it seems. More things are crammed in... a wooden thing with numerous 'pits', pieces for checkers she thinks... dice. Lots of dice, of all sizes and sorts. She thinks she sees a 'go' board in there...

He takes one of the decks of cards, tossing it over to Elise lightly before closing the box. "Rock Paper Scissors should be simple enough. Certainly... Tic Tac Toe might be too easy for you." He grinned teasingly at her.

"Be contemptible if you wish... but your loss or win will be up to you. What you think of me amounts to shit, unless it helps you live... so climb out of the mire, and be ready, because if you are foolish I will show no mercy... be foolish, and you will be devoured."

She looks irritated as Ico slips into his monologue, eyes rolled, fingers pinched at the bridge of her nose. Her brow is raised high, arch, as she impatiently waits for him to finish rambling. "Jesus..." she mutters. "I should have wagered for you to shut your fucking mouth. I don't know which would be worse, me losing and having to submit to your advances, or me winning and having to submit to your fucking Shakespeare's Edition answer to three questions. Yes, yes. I get it. You're a loose cannon. You play by your own rules. I can expect no mercy from your absolutely vicious self. Christ..." Eyes shift between the games suspiciously, clucking her tongue. She shakes her head. "And I'm supposed to buy that these games aren't rigged." Jesus El, how stupid could you be, agreeing to this?

Eyes roam over the game pieces stuffed into the box. She shrugs. "Rock, paper scissors? Really? All this Machiavellan horse shit over roshambo?"

"Yes. I think it suits you perfectly." Smirking now, he pushes the box to the side, over by her bed. "You don't like to think. You like to mock everything that annoys you. It totally fits a fool to be ruined by her foolishness."

Reaching down, he takes a book off her carpet. Gently, he flips it up into the air, catching it easily. "Loose cannon? Vicious? Is that what I said? What, do you want me to force-feed you meanings behind meanings, traps behind within traps within traps? If you are going to be like this, lay back and spread your legs, because that's all you are good for."

"The games... of course they could be rigged." He snorted at you. "Don't trust me. Don't trust me for a blink, for a breath. Don't trust me as far as you can spit, as far as you can throw me. I will cheat you, I'll steal from you, I'll ruin you."

She lifts her brow, cool as a cucumber. She can deal with the normal shit. The big, hulking monsters. She's even learned to deal with the circuitous roundabout shit of the school; the whole damned if you do, damned if you don't set of regulations that insure she can't ever win. No Child Left Behind and all that shit. (Is Bush still in office? Can she make a crack about that?) But she can't deal with this smug little cunt taunting her like somehow she's fucked up. Fuck that. Seriously. Fuck his holier than thou Cheshire Cat bullshit. She shakes her head, growling under her breath.

Sure. The games could be rigged. Yes. You know nothing about the rules. No. I'm not going to give you anything worthwhile if you win. Yes. I'll cheat and lie and you can't do a damn thing about it. And you're a stupid cunt for not understanding everything, when there's nothing to be understood. She doesn't feel like a fool. She feels like she's being condescended by one.

"Mother. Fucker. Alright. Fine. I've decided I'm not ready to play yet. Come back in a year."

"Right. Like my life can get any worse.... I don't give a fuck if you respect me. I just want you to get the hell out of my room." Teeth grind together. "Let's get on with it then."

"We'll start soon enough, impatient girl. But you should know that your impatience is almost literally killing you... I've given you a chance to realize that you made a mistake, gave you a chance to turn back, and chances more besides... but if you don't care... I'll kill you just the same."

"So, yes. Your life can get worse. You've been spending this time assuming the worst. That I'm some sexual deviant, some twisted monster... something that gets satisfaction from its words, from using them to twist another, a sadist of empathy... one that gets off of making others suffer or hurt."

"I'm sorry. But lying to yourself like that is dangerous. It's very dangerous, Elise." Damn that Cheshire grin, and he was even wagging a finger at her now. "Pick out four hearts, spades, and clubs, if you will... inspect the cards as much as you want, too."

She's not listening to him terribly hard as he speaks. No, for the first time in the evening, she thinks, really thinks, head running through every little exchange. The talk of Wishmasters and genies, the terms of the agreement. And then she realizes. Fingers squeeze the hem of her skirt. Christ, she got too caught up in her own cleverness, in playing the few chips she had against the monster, in sheltering Revi... and she finally realizes the mistake she made. A bile rises in her throat. She wants to puke. Oh. God. She gulps for air but her mouth is dry as the Sahara. She made this for herself. Despite his obnoxious, loud-mouthed smugness, she did this to herself. She closes her eyes, just briefly and he's unlikely to notice, caught up in his own little rant, monotonous background noise. And when her eyes are open, she's staring at that Cheshire grin.

"Hm?" is all she can manage. She didn't quite catch those last words. It's hesitant as her mind tries to piece together those last words, hesitation further as she tries to control her hand, knowing that if she takes it from her skirt, it will tremble. And eventually, she steels herself. She takes a long breath and steels herself. Your only way out of this torture now is to win. You have to be smarter now, smarter than you've been. He can change the names of the game depending on how you react. You're more clever. Just use it. Finally, she reaches into the deck, taking each stack of four one by one. She carefully shuffles them one by one, shaking but deft fingers. Carefully, she picks through the suits, hedging her bets. Highs vs. lows is how all these games are played, and she carefully mediates her possibilities, a high card, a low card, a couple towards the middle. She tucks them out of sight, in the band of her skirt, as she goes deck through deck. Finally, she scoops the sixteen cards into her hand, realigning them in a fan. High-to-low, suit-to-suit.