Sarah decided this was definitely not her kind of game. She was far too emotional and it was taking all her efforts to try not to show any of them. When Ever won a hand she really wanted to stand up and cheer. When she lost, she wanted to swear and squeal in despair. Of course she did neither.<br/>At each of the man's lewd suggestions, she felt herself squirming a little in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. Periodically she picked up her glass and relished the brief moments when she could effectively hide behind it as she took a drink.<br/><br/>As the game moved on from one hand to the next she found herself gaining a little more insight into her friend. Things maybe weren't quite as one-sided as she thought at the beginning; Ever hid her emotions well she thought and when she lost one of the battles, it was clear that she was not resigned to a defeat in the war. This was definitely not as much of a foregone conclusion as Sarah thought it was going to be on first sight of the man opposite. Maybe she owed Ever something of an apology. In the meantime, with each win, all she could do was gently pat Ever's upper arm as a minor sign of congratulation.  With each loss, any physical contact was conciliatory and encouraging, contradicting any sense of concern or even panic that she might be feeling internally.<br/><br/>As the game continued, Sarah wished she could understand more of the game, have a better insight as to whether one or other of them were winning or losing. As it was she had to almost wait until hands reached across the table to gather the pot before she knew who had won. But as time went on she couldn't help but notice one pile of chips getting larger whilst the other shrank.