. . .

Lucy’s eyes hold a prophecy of damnation. Bertram staggers. He throws his arm in front of his face.

He babbles, “She gave me a slim chance for survival! I took it! We were playing a game!”

He falls down. She advances.

“We too will play a game,” says Lucy Souvante, “then. Rock-paper-scissors. For your life.”

“I —”

She is counting. One, two, three. He throws rock. She throws paper. He looks up from her hand to her face.

“Best two,” he says, “out of three?”

This rules revision does not take place.