“I don’t know what you mean.” I grin slightly, the lie so transparent. The revolver reappears in front of me, and Trixie taps it pityingly against my temple as she speaks.
“You are a god,” tap, “and I have got one over on you,” tap, “how does that make you feel?”
Most everyone joined in the cheers, but gradually, they all started asking the same questions I had. Who had invited all of us, and why did we all come if we had no clue who our host was? The only person who could answer any of these questions was the odd man out.