"Eames," Faye repeats, slowly, as though feeling out the name. It's smooth, that much is for sure, like it can't quite decide if it's one syllable or two. "Like the designers?"

Little questions like that slip from her now and again, things that she shouldn't really know from the years she really lived. But hell, most of the people on the island aren't even from after the year of her accident. If anything, she probably fits right in, yellow hotpants aside. She deals out the cards, immediately assuming that the responsibility is hers, but stops after, lips quirking. It's nothing more than idle interest, yet.

"So what do we bet with? Mangoes? Pride?" A touch of a laugh escapes her lips.