"I drink, therefore I am" Eric said as he downed another shot and the world swam for the barest second before going stone sober again. Heh, thank you, enhanced metabolism. "Mommma... you mean Olga. Maaaan, those teef scare me" he commented. "She's alright, probably give you a run for the money on knife work."
Eric looked at the knife, then at Raylle's hand. "Actually, she'd probably take your hand off in this game. Or play it with a machete." He placed his hand over top the exposed digits of his counterpart. "Aaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnddddddd.... GO!"
The knife hit the table with a thwok and moved to the next space, completing the first circuit slowly. On the second circuit Eric picked up speed, finishing the second in half the time it took him to do the first. Really, it was child's play. Simple spatial placement, especially with margins as wide as the space of mere digits on a hand, was no trouble at all for his mind. Nor would the pace be any issue if he really wanted to push it. He was fairly confident he could play this game with Raylle's toes if he wanted to. With shoes on.
No, those weren't issues at all. Other things were. Moving on to the final circuit Eric made his decision. Hesitating just the slightest Eric came down with the knife at a slight off angle. He didn't spear any flesh with his stroke, but the blade hit the table and didn't bite in. The handle veered sharply to the side and the flat of the blade came smashing down on Eric's three outer fingers. He stood the for a moment looking at his smashed knuckles as if dumbfounded, then yanked them out and tossed the knife by the liquor bottle.
"FrakkencrackenfuckingHELL!!!!" he yelled as he shook his hand, then stuck the third knuckle of his bruised middle finger in his mouth and sucked on the wound. "Damndamndamndamndamn! A little help, someone?!?!!"
No one moved.
"Really? Then go get a doc, will ya?"
One of the spectators bolted out the door. Eric stood there thinking for a second, then stuck his head out the doorway.
"NOT TIFF! GET NIVEN!!!"
Eric stomped back the table, massaging his hand. Grabbing the bottle he downed a three second swig and looked at Raylle. "Guess you win. Damn, that's always hard at the end." He then slouched back. "I swear, if that asshole gets Tiffany.... all she has is fucking band aids with smiley faces and rainbows on them. Jesus.... give me another it."