Six men and a woman stood in a circle. One of them, a bemused blond, held a coin in his right hand.
"Flip it. Your call, Mason," said Tragg.
"Heads." It was heads.
"Keep going. Try it, oh, ten times," encouraged the older man.
"Tails. Tails. Heads." So it went – ten times the coin flipped, ten times a matching response.
They all stared at the coin for a second.
"Try this." Paul reached into his pocket and pulled out a die. "You guys – and you, beautiful - all pick numbers. Perry first."
They did. Paul rolled. The first number picked came up.
"Okay, now you all pick numbers again but Perry goes last."
It didn't matter how they chose. It didn't even matter when Paul brought out another die and had them pick both numbers. The results were the same.
"Well," said Della at last, shrugging her pretty shoulders. "I suppose we knew it all along."
Steve nodded. "Yep. Face it, Perry. You just can't lose."
Silence. Hamilton looked at the three police officers. "Can we arrest him for that?"
"No," they said in unison, with differing levels of disappointment.
Silence again. Finally Andy spoke up. "I don't see that it matters much. Even if Perry lost, things would always end the same way."
"What way?" Perry asked.
"That one." He pointed.
::fade to black::