Jelly sat at the kitchen table. Across from him was Johnny. The brunet had a huge grin on his face as he leaned cockily back in his chair, looking for all the world like a big, smug Cheshire cat.

Jelly held his ground beneath the former gunfighter’s scrutinizing gaze. He longed to turn away from those bright blue eyes that gleamed with victory but he would only be admitting defeat. He had been fighting a losing battle almost from the beginning but Johnny’s challenge had seemed so innocent at the time.

Now he knew better.

The boy was just too devious for him.

“Well?” the younger man asked in a tone thick with arrogance.

Jelly held his chin high. “Well, what?”

“Do you have it or not?”

Jaw clenched with stubbornness, the handyman gritted out, “I jest need ta think this through a little.”

“You’re stalling,” Johnny sing-songed.

“I am NOT stalling,” 

“I’m afraid Johnny’s right, Jelly,” Scott chimed in from his seat at their side, struggling to conceal his mirth. He had watched the battle from the beginning, finding great amusement in the whole situation. “You, sir, are most definitely stalling.”

“Neither o’ you has any patience,” Jelly said huffily. “I am simply taking a little time to think about –“

“What’s to think about?” Johnny asked incredulously. “Do you have a six or don’t ya?”

Whiskers bristling irritably, the handyman glanced at the lone card in his hand. A six of spades.

Dang it.

“You win again,” Jelly whined, tossing the card down onto the table disgustedly.

Johnny whooped and added the card to his own, placing them down carefully by his stacks of pairs. “Heh! We should play Go Fish more often.”

“Don’t count on it,” Jelly grumbled as both of the Lancer boys moved towards the pantry in search of a snack.

Apparently, trouncing him at cards was hungry work.

- end -