Disclaimer: It's been a while, what are these things supposed to be about again? Oh yes, something about not owning Tin Man. No wonder I forgot.

Author's Note: Yeah, I know, been a long while, but between writer's block and my current internship my muse has been tapped flat, brain-brain needed all hands on deck, even the ones playing without a full deck. The wild life has been hunting me, the counts up to 11 deer and 6 moose that have tried to make themselves my new hood ornament. I have stories but some of them are too long for ANs and others you probably had to be there. Anyhoo, I just wanted to make sure muse was still alive, thought I'd add another ficlet to the Game Nights series. For any newbies out there, the other stories in this series are listed in my profile. Now I must away, have a project to get done.

PS If any of you haven't played this game, it's like musical chairs with cards and spoons.


The Tin Man was coming to the opinion that Othersiders had far too much time on their hands. Leastwise, the vast number of games they had invented to fill their spare time certainly seemed to suggest as much. Though, he supposed, one could consider this game a sort of training exercise – if one looked at it sideways and squinted real hard. 'Course it didn't bode to well for the Royal Guard if you did: there'd been eight of them playing when they'd started this, now there was only one left. This would bother Cain more if he weren't fairly certain Raw was cheating, and he knew darned well that Princess Azkadellia was.

Cards passed between the remaining players, once, twice, thr-

Sure enough, Raw was reaching out before they'd completed the third pass. Cain's hand darted forward to get there before him. The guard's four queens hit the table as he scrambled to join the fray. Princess Azkadellia flicked a wrist and neatly captured object sent whirling into her hand while across the table DG and Glitch battled for the remaining prize. Only the Crown Princess dared take on the headcase over something so trivial, indeed, more than a few objects and the odd spectator was sent flying in the resultant melee before the zipperhead sat triumphantly back with a 'sorry, doll' and prepared to resume the game. DG straightened her chair with a huff…

…and the guard bowed out of the game with a rueful smile as the Tin Man handed her the fifth and last ticket into the next round.

Wyatt Cain had big hands; he couldn't help it if every now and then he accidently grabbed extra spoons.