(Open Log) You gotta know when to hold 'em

[bindlestifflost]

Who: George Milton, Nick Valentine, and anybody who shows up
When: April 22, starting around 6 PM until
Where: Apartment A-3
Summary: A night for playing cards, drinking beer or b.y.o.b. if harder, snacks and unwinding. Feel free to thread jack and jump all around, at least in my threads. This is just for some relaxed down time and catching up or introductions in a smaller, casual space.
Warnings: None expected. If your characters get to discussing anything triggery or get up to anything spicy, please CW in your individual threads.



Over the past week or so, hand printed signs drawn in sharpie on plain paper have shown up taped to walls around the apartment complex and on any easily accessible bulletin boards at ADI. A couple of them were also delivered to the flophouse with the request they be displayed somewhere the residents might see them.

They read:
Cards and Beer
Friday April 22 6 PM
Apartment A 3
George and Nick's place
You want more than beer
or chips and popcorn
bring your own.
Extra decks appreciated.

The night of, the door to A 3 is propped open. In addition to the dining table, a couple of card tables and cheap folding chairs are set up for games. Two bowls on the coffee table contain chips and popcorn respectively. There's a cooler on the floor in the kitchen filled with ice and cheap beer.

George or Nick will greet people as they come in and tell them to make themselves at home.

((OOC: Feel free to top level with your own character and make whatever prompts you like. George is generally easy-going, but if he catches anyone stealing, getting too hot and heavy in a bedroom, or otherwise being a general jerk about the apartment or the other guests, he will try to throw the offender out. If you want that kind of thread or want to succeed at something nefarious, let me know so we can work it out.))

Comments

Neal Caffrey (and Malcolm Bright) || OTA || threadjacks welcome

[conning]

I. Arrival (Neal and Malcolm)

Neal knows all about George and Malcolm's day out. His reaction to the fact that Neal and Malcolm are a couple, and open about it. He's sad for George, really--sad and sympathetic. He'll keep both those things to himself in everything but attitude.

Still, on their way over, Neal suggests to Malcolm that they keep their usual physicality low-key. As though Neal himself doesn't instigate more than half the time. He's got a basket of cheap bottled wine on one arm, and he's letting Malcolm carry the tupperware containers of way-too-fancy-for-poker-night hors d'oeuvres. There's a little bit of everything, from a fish and cracker arrangement to vegan 'sushi.'

He's never going to attend a party without bringing a vegetarian or vegan option. (He misses Abby. A lot.)

Right before they knock, Neal leans over and gives Malcolm a kiss on the temple. "Just because I'm not holding your hand all night doesn't mean I don't want to," he murmurs. He gives Malcolm one more little kiss and raps smartly on the door.

They mingle after arrival, setting up their offerings and seeing who else is there. Close to each other, but not like... glued to each other. They're super casual. It's fine.


II. He's Not a Shark He's Just Good At This Okay

Neal loves cards. All kinds of gambling games, really--he's played, fairly or unfairly, just about every game you can bet money on, from backgammon to mancala to traditional cards. Poker, of course, is a favorite.

He's swept the table for the third time in a row when he decides to take a break, excusing himself with a wink and a grin at one of his surlier table-mates. He can't help himself. Sure, it's not as posh as the poker games he's used to crashing, but it's still much more his element than most of what happens in this place.

He goes over to the a kitchen counter and several bottles of cheap wine he brought along, since his apartment is so close by, scrutinizing his own selections with a critical eye before he picks a red that hasn't been opened yet.

It's a twist top.

Sigh. Such is life. (As though he didn't bring it.)


III. Solo Wandering/Card Tricks

When Malcolm is comfortably established with a friend, Neal circulates the room a little more on his own, looking for new faces to introduce himself to and familiar ones to chat with. If he knows you--or doesn't--he's very likely to approach with an appropriately cheesy pick-up line at the ready. (It's clear the cheesiness, and the related vibe of 'I'm not hitting on you, I promise,' are very intentional.)

At some point, during a break in the game, Neal takes up one of the decks of cards and starts performing card tricks, both sleight-of-hand and literal 'tricks' that involve building castles or hitting targets with a carefully flicked queen of hearts.

He can't help himself. He's dramatic.


IV. Late/Outside

At some point, like several others present, he needs a people break. He loves people. He absolutely does. He loves being around them, loves talking to them, loves getting them to smile and laugh and relax. He's also--even after several months of close living--not really used to it any more. Not on this intimate a level. It's more tiring than it ever used to be. So here he is, out in the hall, or on the patio, or even up on the roof for a few minutes. Gathering his thoughts and wits to return to the front lines of sociability.

I.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm clutches the stack of tupperware tightly, careful not to tip it when he leans his cheek up into that kiss.

“I’ve never been invited to a poker night before,” he confesses.

[conning]

Neal brushes a bit of Malcolm's hair back behind his ear, smiling at him. "Well, it'll be the first of many, then."

[abrightboy]

"Have you been to a lot of them?" Malcolm asks. "What are they actually like?"

[conning]

"Depends on how illicit they are and how big the take is."

Neal grins shamelessly, looking to the door with a bright smile as it opens up.

[abrightboy]

He can't wait to see this, so he also looks delighted as the door opens.

"I'll try to introduce you to George," he says as he looks around. "So he knows who you are." He doesn't want George to feel like he got tricked by letting him meet Neal without knowing he's Neal. "Should we put this stuff in the kitchen?"

[conning]

"Good plan." It's not clear whether that's about the introduction part or the putting stuff in the kitchen part. Neal kisses Malcolm's temple, looking around the room with interest at the mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces. It's good to see people he doesn't know. (He tries not to think about the relief of seeing faces he's familiar with, that random confirmation that they're still here.)

"Hopefully twist-off wine bottles won't scandalize anyone too severely."

[abrightboy]

"I'm sure they won't offend anyone more than they offend you," Malcolm teases with a grin.

He prefers wine to beer. It's not as heavy.

"Besides, it's what they have here. Everyone knows that."

[conning]

"Unfortunately for everyone," Neal sighs. He does really miss good wine.

He sets out several of his offerings, feeding a few different samples to Malcolm as he explains what they are.

[abrightboy]

He manages to get three amuse-bouches into Malcolm before he declines one with a laugh and a hand on his stomach.

“How do you know how to make all this stuff?” he asks with a degree of wonder.

[conning]

Neal grins, popping the refused token into his own mouth, chewing, and swallowing before he tries to speak. “A lifetime of practice and collecting recipes from every continent I set foot on.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm smiles, quite enchanted.

“I’ve never traveled much outside the United States.”

Who would want to deal with his sleep issues on even a private long haul flight?

“Canada, the Caribbean… a little bit. My parents took us to the south of France once, when I was a kid.”

[conning]

"We can fix that." He trails a fingertip through Malcolm's hair, brushing a stray strand behind the other man's ear. "Once we're done saving the world."

III. Card Tricks

[bindlestifflost]

George had met him briefly when he'd come with Malcolm, bringing both food and wine that weren't at all unwelcome, and he'd faced him across the table once or twice in the night long enough to know he's way out of his league in the gambling department. This is the first time he finds himself face to face with him alone since the party started, watching him flip the cards around in his hands like it's nothing at all.

"You're mighty slick with that," he says, nodding a chin point toward what he's doing. "Bet that took a lotta practice and a long time to get it lookin' so easy." It's not so different to him than watching people like Slim driving a team, or even old Crooks with his handling of the most persnickety of the mules. Anything that easy only comes after a lot of hard work.

"When'd you pick up cards?"

[conning]

Neal grins. "I started with sleight of hand when I was in grade school. It looked fun."

And it got him positive attention. "The more complicated tricks I started working on when I got good enough at the simple ones to be bored."

He gives a little flick of his wrist, making the card in hand spin in the air and seem to hover from one hand back to the other. Physics, not magic, but it still looks cool.

[bindlestifflost]

He nods. That sounds about right. A lot of folks start on stuff when they're kids if they get real good at it. "I'll be damned," he says, eyes following the card. "That's some a' them magic tricks there. I seen a few fellas can do that sort a' thing on a few different jobs. Always talkin' how they's gonna make it big."

He glances up to meet his gaze before looking back to the cards. "It was always talk with them fellas. Still fun to watch. You ever think about makin' an act? Or is it jes' a hobby?"

[conning]

"Just a hobby," Neal says comfortably, letting the card come to rest against his hand again before he mixes it back into the deck and taps them even on the nearest flat surface. "It helps with my former occupation, but it's not something I was ever inclined to make a living from."

[bindlestifflost]

"Oh yeah? What'd you do afore coming here?" So far he has met people from so many different backgrounds he doesn't believe anything would surprise him anymore.

[conning]

Neal almost does what he used to do so easily--make a joke about being a thief, a con man, a world-class criminal. But he isn't, is he? Not here. Not even before here, really, not for a long time.

It hits him all at once, how much he isn't Neal Caffrey, internationally wanted art thief any more.

He shouldn't look like he got hit in the gut from a question about former occupation. Neal falls into a sheepish grin, the transition from shock to apparent self-depreciation almost seamless. "I used to be a thief and forger."

[bindlestifflost]

George's brow furrows a little. He didn't think it was a gob smacking kind of question. Wouldn't be the first time he'd misjudged a situation in a conversation, and he doubts it'll be his last. Neal seems to recover quickly enough, and what he says might explain a little some of that reaction, or so he thinks.

"Huh. Landin' in this place turn you around or something else?" He's not good at subtle and never makes much effort at it. He's met all types. He won't pretend 'criminal' doesn't get his back up a little and give him reason to be more wary.

[conning]

He catches it, that little shift toward wariness, and where ten years ago it would have given him a perverse pride, now it just… makes him sad. Tired. There’s no defiant reveling in who he used to be, not any more.

“Something else,” Neal says quietly. “I went to work for the law for a while. Decided that there were other ways to live. Better ones.”

He shrugs off the seriousness, or tries to at least, by fanning his borrowed deck of cards across the counter, flipping the cards over with another stroke of his hand, and then gathering them all up again in a third sweep. “What about you?”

[bindlestifflost]

"I can respect that," he says. He doesn't...necessarily...trust it, although Malcolm apparently loves the guy, so that says something. Malcolm doesn't strike him as the type to tolerate people who hurt others deliberately.

"Migrant farm labor in NorCal." He's bracing himself for another weird, Such noble, necessary work, since it seems that's the broken record set to play. He hasn't yet cottoned to what that means or why so many people feel the need to say it. He suspects it's nothing good.

[conning]

Neal doesn't react like that. Or in any particular way, really. He takes in the information with a nod and an interested expression, the way he would most any unusual choice of work. "What drew you to it? Necessity or desire?"

[bindlestifflost]

Well, that response...or non-response...is better. There's a subtle but visible relaxing of the tension around his eyes and in his shoulders. "Took whatever work I could get. Not that things was all that much better afore '29, but after? Shit. Bread lines around the blocks and fellas what never touched a pitchfork in their life trying to muscle in."

He rolls a twitchy, one-shouldered shrug. "Came off a family farm. Wasn't nothing to it taking it on the road."

[conning]

'29. Holy shit. Neal knew that George wasn't 'modern' in their sense of the word, but 1929. It's one thing to know and another thing to know.

"This must be weird for you," he says, gesturing at their surroundings. He pauses. "...The 2000s part, not the--well, no, all of it."

It's all he can do to keep from peppering George with history-focused questions.