"What are you saying?"
"I am undefeated in this game," explains Merv. "I have spent years studying strategy and analyzing the masters of the game. You... you're an amateur. Didn't Milton beat you at this game once?"
"That was Eva," you correct him. "She's fast."
"I'm the fastest," says Merv confidently.
"Why don't you stop talking and put your hands where your mouth is."
"Hey, I'm just looking out for you here, Marty," says Merv. "I've left some men damn near crippled."
"Hands out," you demand.
"All right, all right," says Merv. "Give me a second to get ready."
Merv closes his eyes, and takes a few long deep breathes.
He rolls his neck around, working out the kinks.
Then he interlocks his fingers and stretches out his arms in front of him as far as he can. He cracks his knuckles audibly.
Then he puts his hands out in front of him, and twists his wrists back and forth, loosening up.
You get impatient.
"Look, Merv, you can meditate later. We got a game here or what?"
Merv opens his eyes and looks at you, annoyed.
He places both hands out in front of him.
"I'm ready," he says. "Are you?"
"Yeah..." you say as casually as you can. "I'm ready."
You walk over and face Merv. You lay your hands out in front if him at waist level.
"Tops or bottoms?"
asks Merv.