It's a predictable path: every time Charlie hears the name 'Victor' there's a certain curl to his lip that refuses to settle, no matter how-- or where-- Chloe decides to set her fingertips against the slope of his spine. The two mix as well as oil and water, and she has absolutely no illusions that a friendly game of cards is going to do anyone any favors.

But whatever happens, the three of them need to learn to work as a team.

--or as close as they can get to it, anyway. At least when Talbot or Marlowe turning up out of nowhere is an ever present possibility. If they can sit down for one evening without shots being fired, she'll consider it a success.

"Easy, Charlie. I already picked up a bottle of wine from you-know-where. With any luck, if he doesn't bring his own this time, he sure as hell will the next."