[Ned frowns for the briefest fraction of a second—because Jacob is giving up on the game. He likes to win, it's not as fun when someone just gives up. It's still kind of fun, but it could be more. See his problem.

But he laughs lightly, reaching out to sweep the whole pile toward himself and stack it back into a full deck. He'll take his ill-gotten gains and that neat little compliment.]

You're really sick of owing me favors. [Just an observation.] Sure, I'll hold onto the little guy.

[Give him a moment to stack the cards neatly, then hum thoughtfully.] We should talk about the pub. Unless you think the people are gonna bet on stress balls.