The loser will become the winner's servant... and...

"Ah! You know, I think I know what might be interesting for you. Everyone here is sort of at your beck and call, I feel, but they don't seem to have the right attitude about it, do they?" you question, waving your arm in the direction of the table, who all regard you with sour expressions.

"I'm perfectly fine with their behavior, honestly. They all know not to step out of line," Celestia giggles, her red eyes staying fixed on you as she tilts her chin up slightly. "Don't stall. What do you have in mind?"

"I was only thinking that the winner deserves an actual servant. How about we make the hierarchy clear? If I win your entire pot, you will treat me as your master. You'll be my maid, essentially," you explain to her, allowing your eyes to quickly flick up and down her already somewhat maid-like attire. "If you take my entire pot, I'll do likewise. I'll be your butler for the rest of my time at this school, waiting on you hand and foot."

Celestia's eyes visibly alight and her smile widens-- she covers her mouth with one hand as though trying to hide a string of drool. A handsome butler must be something she's always wanted. "Oh. Oh! I like that proposal," she answers simply. "I can be a bit demanding, I hope you know. Don't think you'll be able to talk me down after you lose."

"I wouldn't dream of it," you respond, thinking privately that you could probably talk her into anything. Speaking of which... "Let's go over those terms again."

"Hm? I already said I like them, didn't I?" Celestia asks, tilting her head with a slight frown. You get the feeling she's more impatient than she's letting on.

What you've proposed to her is ****, but it's not the type of thing that the Ultimate Gambler would object to. To know if your subliminal messaging left its mark, you need to prod her further. "You are the house, after all. I think I should stand to win a little more. If I win... let's say that your uniform as my maid will be a bunny suit, like they wear in the casinos in Las Vegas. Is that okay?" You smile as though your proposal is the most normal thing in the world, while murmurs erupt through the rest of the room, some sounding excited at the idea.

Celestia ponders for a moment. "And you'll do likewise, should I win?"

"No," you answer, unreasonably. You fold your arms and kick your feet up on the table disrespectfully.

The woman knits her eyebrows in consternation, watching your feet. "No feet on the table in my establishment."

"You're not upset about something like this, certainly?" you question, sounding mildly offended.

"Of course not. Hmph!" she responds, looking just a bit more offended than you acted. "Fine. I'll take your bet. It's not like I'm going to lose anyway."

"Oh, there's another thing!" you make a show of suddenly remembering. You pick up a chip from the table and idly flip it between your fingers, a parlor trick you learned while you were studying gambling. "I meant a reverse bunny suit. Have you heard of this? It's an obscene type of clothing where your arms and legs are covered, but you just wear pasties on the chest and groin. Your ass will be mostly uncovered with a cute little bunny tail. That's fine, isn't it?"

Someone at the table let out a scream of excitement at that proposal, but it wasn't Celestia. She just watches you with a silent frown, then raises her eyebrows. "Are you stupid?"

"Does that mean no?"

"It does not. I said I'm not going to lose. So-"

"Then you won't object to another stipulation," you interrupt her with a smile, catching the coin between your thumb and your index finger with a broad grin. In sequence, you pile up more and more ridiculous demands, until everyone at the table is left with their mouths hanging open and at a loss for words, even that big jock you left hanging earlier. Celestia agrees to every single demand, nodding each time and repeating the same statement: she won't lose. In the end, she's left with a ridiculous gamble that she'd have to be crazy to take-- or perfectly hypnotized, anyway. "You're bold, Ms. Ludenberg!"

"I'm the bold one? Hehehehehehe... Oh, Mr. Tominaga... pardon me but it will be soooo satisfying to wipe that smug smirk off of your face," she chuckles, still wearing her same petite smile.

Not rising to her taunt, you allow her to deal the first cards. You receive a pair equaling out to 15... a rough hand. After all, this is the kind of draw that needed a very lucky hit to become close to 21 without going over. You shrug and tell her you'll keep the 15, with no additional cards at all.

"This is your good luck, is it?" she laughs, then begins to turn over her own cards. Anyone at the table who was hoping for a miracle-- to see the woman who's been terrorizing them and would probably look very good in a reverse bunny suit lose-- is left clutching their head in disappointment. She's started with a small pair equaling ten. When she flips the next card, it's statistically likely she'll beat or match the 15. The only way she'd lose is if she drew a two, a three, or a four.

The next card flips, held between two of her fingers for just a moment. It lands anticlimactically in the complete silence of the room. It's a ten.

Her grin becomes impossibly huge and her eyes glow crimson. "Twenty! My my, such luck I'm having today! Hehehehe... Hehehehehehehehe! I believe that means-"

You rub the back of your head apologetically before speaking up, slightly loud, to talk over her. "Can I have a mulligan on that one? Sorry, sorry... I just feel my luck warming up."

Her grin turns smaller and smaller until it settles into a small smile, concealing her annoyance. "You want a do-over? Overturning this result and replacing it with a new one? Are you mocking me?" she questions, tilting her head again. "Pardon me, but are you stupid?"

"No no, I just feel convinced that you'll give me one," you continue, matching her own even expression with your own.

"And so I will," she answers simply, placing that card onto the bottom of the deck and pulling another. "There. It's a total of 18 now. You still lose, idiot."

"How about another do-over?"

The girl's smile turns slowly into an annoyed frown as her fingers clench down on the eight card, contorting it into a half-folded, ruined shape. "Are you fucking with me right now? You want another do-over?"

"I do."

Without any further complaints, but showing agitation on her face, she flips another card. "Hmph... A five. We're even. I'm not going to draw another card and risk losing this bet," she sighs. "We'll start again-"

"No no. I want another do-over."

The whole table begins to murmur in confusion as Celestia's shoulders rise, her red eyes seeming to spark with electricity at anger over the suggestion. She flips another card. You lose. You recommend a do-over. She flips another card. You lose. You recommend a do-over. She flips another card. You lose. You recommend a do-over. She flips another card. You lose. You recommend a do-over. She flips another card. It's a three. In anger, Celestia flips another card.

It's the queen of spades, bringing her to a total of 23.

The lifetime gambler's hands tremble as she drops the card in shock, regarding it like it's some monster that's just jumped onto the table in front of her. The rest of the deck scatters to the ground as she hits it with her elbow, bolting up from her seat. "Impossible!"

"It'd actually be pretty fuckin' scary if he didn't win after all that," Mondo pitches in, wearing a confused frown. The rest of the class is celebrating, but he seems to have detected something was off. It's possible you left such a bad impression on him earlier that he was actually rooting for Celestia to win, or then again, it might just be that he'd missed your earlier subliminal message attempt by failing to watch the cards and now found you fishy. Either way, he looks obstinate.

"Heh... Hehehehe, that's right, that's right!" Celestia agrees, now breathing more heavily with sweat creeping down the side of one cheek. She slams her hand down on the table hard enough to make the chips jump, then puts her face near yours, tilted at an angle so that her ponytails fall all over the remaining cards. "You got a lot of do-overs, didn't you? It's only right that I get one or two myself, isn't it? You'll see that my luck-"

"All I see is that your luck has run out. I don't owe you any mulligans," you respond, tilting your chair back and raising up your hands in a careless shrug. "I think it's time to make good on all of your promises now."

"But..." Celestia mutters, her eyes widening as she falls back into her seat and slumping as though her strings had been cut. "But..."

This was a woman who'd taught herself not to fear ****. She could bet her life away without blinking an eye. She'd bet her pride just as quickly. What she couldn't accept was this loss, which seemed to be wholly on her own shoulders. When had her own skill and luck ever failed her before? Loss wasn't a word in her vocabulary and, without going into specifics, she'd taken every precaution to make sure this "gamble" was no game of chance at all.

So how had she lost? Her brain couldn't figure it out, and that was the part that had drained her usual bravado. Had she simply been too emotional? "Me? Emotional? Me?!" she questions inside her head, feeling so confused by the outcome that she can still barely register it. "Just what is this that I'm feeling? I can't even recognize it..."

"I think it's time the mademoiselle makes good on her promises!" the chef-dressed boy from earlier interrupts, barely hiding his bleeding nose as his eyes sparkle with anticipation.

You're actually feeling a little anticipation yourself.