Chapter Text
The High Roller twirled into the office of Chip Revvington, for an appointment it had been anticipating for months. He went right into a curtsy-bow, his dashing white coat swirling around him with dramatic flair--
"Make this quick, I don't have all day," Chip said. He tucked a piece of paper crowded with text into a folder, only to pick up another. His chainsaw-snout was buried in the page.
High Roller quirked its head to let the light catch on its grin of piano keys and dice. He placed his hand on the edge of Chip's desk, leaning on it with a hand on his hip. Daylight filtered in through the tall windows behind Chip, casting an alluring shadow over High Roller's shades from the brim of its hat. "Good morning to you too, Mr. Chipper Revvington. I ffee you might not've heard of me... but I know of you. Don't worry, I'll level thoffe fftakeff."
"Stakes?" Chip scowled over his paper. His gaze dropped and then snapped back up, as if he was just noticing how High Roller had poised himself. "Get to the point," he mumbled.
"Fanff call me The Boff of all Boffeff, Queen Diffe, The Worfft (affecffonate), The Cutefft. But the name on the headlineff iff High Roller. I've been jufft aching to meet you in perffon. My fftar-fftruck heart is danffing with rhapffody."
Bewilderment crossed Chip's face, before it sliced into melancholy. "I know what your name is," The Chainsaw Consultant said impatiently. He flattened the paper he had been reading onto the desk with one dark hand, then crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "What business do you have with me?"
High Roller lowered onto his elbow on the desk. He nudged the front of his hat up with his thumb, and his black visor-eyes popped into heart shapes. "I'm poffitively, madly in love with you," it sang, in low, drawn-out notes. "What other reaffon would anyone come to your depreffing offiffe?! It needff neon lighting in here or ffomething!"
Chip's eyes went wide as his chainsaw rolled once, and High Roller threw his head back in a toe-curling laugh, haunting and playful.
"The reaffon I'm here is becauffe I want you to be on my ffhow." High Roller settled back down and propped its chin in his hand, a mischievous quirk in his smile. "The greatefft gameffhow in the Tooniverffe."
Chip hesitated, one eyebrow raised. High Roller tilted his head. It must've really thrown Chip off with that love joke, but, well, who was High Roller to say the confession was not genuine? He'd let Chip interpret it however he so pleased.
Chip shook his head like he was shaking himself into focus, his hat flapping faintly. "What-- what would I be doing on this show?" he asked with an impatient gesture of his hand, his eyes rolling. He seemed restless. Nervous to admit he was interested? Lucky for Chip, High Roller had experience with warming up some cold feet.
And there was certainly an edge here, if Chip had let High Roller stay in his office this long. It was time to play some good cards.
Lifting off of the desk, High Roller backed up a few steps, and struck a dashing pose with each word. "Gameff, trivia, challengeff." As he sauntered out of each pose, he left behind a silhouette of light. The first laid a line of shuffle cups on the desk in front of Chip; the second began reading a question off of a cue card: "Which of the following Suits are the most charming?"
The third rolled up its sleeves, balled its fists and launched itself over the deck at Chip.
Chip snorted in shock, throwing his arms up in front of him as the ghostly silhouette passed right through him. After a moment of nothing, he slowly lowered his arms, catching his breath as he looked around. He jerked as he turned and ended up chainsaw-to-teeth with the light blue silhouette that had jumped at him, his hat jumping off his head momentarily from the jolt of surprise.
"Exffiting, right?" High Roller angled his beak in a slanted grin. With a resounding snap of his fingers, the three silhouettes surrounding Chip disappeared.
Chip adjusted his hat, visibly disoriented, but still wearing that apathetic scowl. "No," he said. "I've seen your show and I'm not interested in playing your games. Are we done here?"
High Roller's shoulders dropped, his mouth falling open with disappointment. "You're pulling my leg, babe! You don't want to play? Thiff iff the ffhow of your lifetime!"
Chip's chainsaw rumbled before he scoffed, rolling his eyes the way he seemed to enjoy doing. He lifted a hand like he was about to wave High Roller out, but then he seemed to change his mind, lowering it as he turned to look at High Roller again. "Why do you want me on your show, anyway? What do you get out of it?"
"Ratingff!" High Roller said, hoping that might be the thing that tipped Chip's interest over the edge. Who didn't like popularity?! "I'm confident you'd be bringing in the highefft ratingff of anyone, ffecond to yourff truly! Not only that, but I'd have the company of the ffnaffiefft, hottefft Ffuit anywhere!"
Chip's eyebrows twisted with reproach, his gaze wandering like he was doing math in his head. "...Me? Snazziest?" He jabbed a finger at himself, scoffing. "You're talking about me?"
High Roller grinned, took a step back for a wind-up, and then vaulted himself onto Chip's desk. Folders and papers flew everywhere as High Roller spun with his feet thrown above his head, documents crinkling and pens clacking onto the floor. He stopped suddenly, clamping his hands onto the edge of the desk to face Chip, his legs dropping down to hang between them. "That'ff right, baby!" He exclaimed, the low ballers on his hat clicking as they continued spinning around his head.
Chip's chain growled fervently as it ran around its bar. Chip had barely moved except to lean back in his chair, his eyes wide as the chainsaw gradually puttered down. His chest was visibly rising and falling with his breath.
High Roller tapped its fingers against the desk with excitement; surely by now Chip was captivated with interest in being on the show.
"This--" Chip began, but another rev of his chainsaw cut him off. It was brief, and Chip winced, one hand darting up toward his face as if to grab the saw, but it stopped before he had to. His other hand was digging into the arm of his chair.
"...This is ridiculous," Chip finished, punctuating with an exasperated sigh. "I think we're done here. Go, and send someone in here on your way out," Chip grumbled, looking at the mess on the floor. "I've got files that need to be organized."
A bust had never hit High Roller so hard. It had waited months to get Chip on its show! It hadn't been expecting an outright refusal. Maybe Dave and Buck had been reluctant, had thought inviting the Chainsaw Consultant was a fish play, but High Roller certainly had not. Why would someone not want to play its incredible games?!
After all the tricks and pizzazz High Roller had cashed, Chip wasn't interested? And at one point High Roller thought it had him... what happened?
No cards left up its sleeves, High Roller slid to its feet. Chip jerked his chainsaw up to keep High Roller from bumping into it, and narrowed his eyes up at him.
"Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind," High Roller said, straightening its suit as he walked around Chip's desk. He tilted his head, and flicked the ducks on his hat, sending them spinning. "I'll ffave a ffpin for you."
High Roller walked to the door, and then--
"Wait."
High Roller's head spun around before the rest of his body turned. "Parting wordff, Miffter Revvington?" it said playfully.
Chip had one hand on the arm of his chair, leaning forward with his elbow on the desk. "I'm not interested in being on your show. But what kind of pitch tactic is it to say you're 'madly in love' with me?" Chip's words were slightly garbled as his chainsaw revved softly, and his gaze skittered for a moment, his hand clenching. He eventually fixed High Roller once again with a scowl. That scowl, though, was nowhere near as cold as it was when High Roller first entered.
So that was what Chip had been hung on? That joke?
High Roller tilted its head, taking a step toward the desk. "Jufft a bit of fun," he said, studying Chip. "That'ff an intereffting quefftion for you to affk. Do you have any otherff? I don't do interviewff too often, you know," it joked.
Chip's eyelids lowered, resuming a bored look, or maybe annoyed disappointment. "No. I don't have other questions. You can go."
Then again, maybe High Roller wouldn't place his bets yet. "Ffure thing," High Roller sang softly. The meeting may have been over, but he hadn't lost all his chips yet.
As he got to the door, Chip called after him, his voice a wavering rush. "And stop calling me baby or whatever."
High Roller tilted its grin over its shoulder, throwing a salute as it left Chip's office.