Victor had, several months before he challenged a Ten, blandly commented that who knows but that Laureline Novak might point her youngest in his direction. It was the kind of throwaway statement he only ever made when they were alone and with whiskey, and even so it said very little about Victor and more about the Novaks. Few people dared to challenge Victor Fox, after all, and anyone he challenged tended to be marked for death.

That was how it had been as long as Elisha had been in the Deck, which was going on a decade now. He'd had the rank of Seven a few years past when Andrew and Argine had named him Ace after Edgar had died in a car accident. He snorted a slight laugh, though, as Hadyn Novak gave him a onceover and invited him along. A "chaperone."

He waved off Tegan's protest. Somehow, despite his deliberately light and charming demeanor, he still hadn't lost the slight air of command from the IDF and Mossad. It had the upper Clubs - even Tegan, sometimes - looking a little green. "If you're impressing me into duty I'm going to require at least one scotch." He tilted his head. "Or rye whiskey, I suppose, if you're going to Mooseknuckle."

It was a good bar, but it was a dive. Single malt was a little rich for their blood.