[ While she may not call herself out on her own prowess when it comes to giving herself shit, Nami's self-aware enough to meet Rokurou's gaze with a wry grin. They don't talk often, and they, especially, don't talk about subjects as esoteric as the seemingly endless stretch of time they've both been subject to the House's endless cavalcade of horny bullshit while others disappear, or otherwise turn to stone.

Glossing over it works, with him, with herself, with anyone – the casino makes everybody miserable in its way, after a person has been under its relentless sway for long enough, the losses just start to pile up, while the stakes climb so high that chips don't matter, and eventually absent friends are the only thing that does.

But, as keen as Nami is to continue never broaching subjects like time, and loss with Rokurou (who is, as always, hopelessly dreamy) when she meets his eye, there's only one thing Nami can think to say; ]

I'm glad you haven't either.

[ And though her gaze softens in heartfelt fondness, it heats up again in a matter of heartbeats, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she rises to her feet and begins to amble over to his side of the pods. ]

Tricked me? You know I have heard your voice before, right? [ She stops just within arm's reach and lets a hand touch his cheek lightly. ] Be flattered, it's too sexy to miss.