Hand #32 - Mikhail Tulchinskiy
The river looks like a blank, the . Tulchinskiy doesn't like something about the hand; he checks to Qu, who fires a healthy bet of 700,000 into the pot. It looks like Tulchinskiy wants to call but may be talking himself out of it. He tanks for several minutes, absent-mindedly shuffling chips. Qu leans back in his chair and scratches the back of his neck vigorously -- a sign of swine flu? Someone calls for a clock, inducing a snap-call from Tulchinskiy with , a pair of tens. Qu must have a busted draw or a stone bluff, because he mucks.