Normally, Cash doesn't like losing. Nobody does, he imagines, but he's spent a lot of time in dodgy establishments where losing means saying goodbye to a body part — or worse. Losing is synonymous with don't.

But he's the most relaxed he's been in... well, he doesn't really know. It was probably some other occasion with Luke, although any moment in Denouement had had an undercurrent of danger along with it. No one could let their guard down for long. Letting it down at all was a bad idea.

Here, his thoughts are completely away from that terrible place. And Ten Forward, for that matter. They're focused entirely on the man behind him, and how quickly he can lose.

"Hmmm. Okay." He pretends to consider, leaning back into Luke just a bit. "Professional Peek-a-Boo artist? Really bad mime who can only simulate a dark room?"