He sat in Seat 4, his eyes fixed not on his opponents’ faces, but on the geometry of the pot.
Elias began stacking the chips, his expression unchanged. He knew the Royal Flush was just a statistical outlier, a flicker of noise in a long-term signal. He hadn't won because of the spade; he had won because he was willing to lose when the percentages told him it was the right move. Mathematics of Poker
"Your move, Professor," growled Miller, a regular who played by "feel" and lost by the same metric. Elias glanced at the board: . He held A♠ K♠ . He sat in Seat 4, his eyes fixed
"You're a mathematician, Elias," Miller smirked, flipping over for a pair of nines. "You should know you're an underdog." He sat in Seat 4