Ciel stared at the number and then at the chips next to him. It looked like a pathetic, modest stack compared to the towers rising from Bryan's well.
Then he turned back at Thiago with a satisfied, magnanimous expression.
"How could you lend me just this much?!"
Eight hundred and eighty-eight thousand. Not even a clean million.
The triple eights were a traditional lucky number, which somehow made the insult worse.
Thiago hadn't just been cheap, he had been cheap with flair.
But Thiago was already turning away from Ciel. His gaze fell on Neville's chip well, where a modest stack of chips sat in neat formation.
"Can't you learn from him?" Thiago jerked his chin at Neville. "Even Neville only withdrew a hundred thousand. A hundred thousand! Using someone else's money!"
He rounded back on Ciel. "Can't you be more sensible when spending other people's money?!"
