This may well be the first time on board this hell-ship that Clarke's followed a direction without any form of argument. Her focus is so keenly fixated on his hands she couldn't even tell you what the song thumping in the background was about. Both arms fold along the edge of the table, and she's leaning in uncomfortable close to stare at the arch and shuffle of cards in his hands. And when it finally comes time to deal, and she catches that their cards come from two opposite ends of the deck, the sudden surprised arch of blonde eyebrows announces Clarke's realization.

"Oh."

Only thing is, she never expects she'll be allowed to deal. And, if at some point in the future she gets to sit opposite the Captain and play a game for their souls, figures there's nothing much she'd be able to do if he decided to cheat. So this is fascinating regardless.

"Yeah, I saw it. Literally the definition of underhanded, but an advantage is an advantage." And at this point, an arm unfurls from the edge of the table, extending across the playing space palm-up and expectant. One can't learn the full measure of a game while sitting on just one side of the table. "Let me try."