(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

b/wildcard-ish

[whisperedone]

[The first time Crowley escapes to the kitchen, there's someone else holding up part of the counter as he leans against it, clouded eyes angled down, but his face tilting slightly towards whatever new sounds come up.

George had invited him here and even offered to teach him some, act as his eyes, but there was still some hesitation. He didn't like being a burden on another's fun. He did like listening to friends and allies having fun, however, and their laughs or shouts fuel the small smile on his face.

When someone approaches, Garner looks up a bit more, listening.]

Your steps are light. You swagger. I don't think I've heard you before.

[His voice is low, soft, and lightly accented like he might be from Crowley's neck of the woods, even if that isn't quite true.]

[demonicmiracle]

[It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's being addressed by someone who can't see, and while it's entirely possible there are two blind people amongst their small numbers, he finds it unlikely.]

I'll give you a clue, m'neither an elf nor a dwarf.

[Now that Garner's not on the other side of a screen, Crowley takes a second to size him up. A little younger than he would've guessed, but he's fairly rubbish with human ages, anyway. Bloody tall, as well, but that's mostly Crowley being cranky that too many people have a couple of inches on him. The audacity, honestly.]

[whisperedone]

[The voice takes his interest -Crowley's easy cadence is nice- but the words themselves put a much wider and brighter smile on his face as he .]

Ah...no, a kind man to whom I owe thanks.

[And who he's frankly glad to finally meet. He gestures to the kitchen around them.]

Please, don't mind me, whatever it was you were looking for.

[demonicmiracle]

Ugh, don't say that, I'll get hives.

[Garner might not have able to see his wrinkled nose, but it's clear from his tone that's he's mostly just kicking up a fuss for the sake of it, rather than being properly upset.

It's different than when Aziraphale calls him nice. Easier to brush off.]

Sugar, actually. Was gonna make myself a cocktail. [Which is likely in one of the cabinets somewhere in here, so he'll slip past Garner to start rifling through.] You drink?

[whisperedone]

[That just makes his smile brighter, but he attempts a age nod of understanding. Can't have kindness, of course, what was he thinking?

He keeps his post, content to simply listen to the man rifle around.]

Typically. Though, I know a lot of the alcohol here is different in make and style than from where I'm used to, but I've been trying what I can when I can get out. [Which has been going well enough, if slow.]

What do you tend to drink? I don' know many drinks that require sugar that isn't honey.

[demonicmiracle]

Whiskey, made from malted barley, if you're not familiar, with a bit of sugar and bitters.

[He may have to explain bitters, too, but they'll cross that bridge when they come to it.]

What're you used to back home? More ales and meads?

[Just a guess based on the whole... pseudo fantasy world thing that Garner seems to have going on.]

[whisperedone]

[He nods. Crowley would absolutely be right.]

Ales and meads. Whiskey and bourbon and wine. Honestly, the base drinks themselves are not so different, but how they seem to be made and what people do with them here is new.

Like putting bitter things in with sugars.

[He pauses, brows drawing together in thought.]

Unless...the chemical composition of what's in the bitter thing is slight enough to only enhance the sweetness of the sugar and, thus, the natural sugars within the whiskey itself...which might cause the drink to taste smoother as well as sweeter...

[He's just going to contemplate that a moment.]

[demonicmiracle]

[Crowley snaps his fingers, pointing at Garner despite the fact he can't see it, it's just habit.]

Give the man a prize. You've got it all figured out.

[It fascinates him, just a little bit, that Garner seems to be from a world with a fantasy twist, and is throwing around words like chemical composition. It's possible he learned that here, but Crowley's not sure that's the case.]

You only want a couple splashes of bitters, just enough to bring out the sweetness. Wanna try one for yourself?

[whisperedone]

[Ah! Then never mind, bitter in sugar makes perfect sense. How interesting to find alchemy in how people approach liquor. He certainly wouldn't have thought to himself, otherwise.]

I would, thank you. I am very curious to see how this tastes. [...] Or taste how this might be seen, as the case may be.

[An idle hand finds what he's pretty sure is a bottle cap on the counter and fiddles with it, his fingers suddenly itching for the chance to try this little experiment himself.]

I used to be a bit of an alchemist. I was no master, but I was proficient. Unfortunately, it is a skill most assuredly more useful when you have sight.

[demonicmiracle]

[Crowley snorts at the word play, getting started on a second drink for Garner.]

Discover how it tastes, perhaps?

[That's probably the correct way to phrase it.

He's always wondered which would be worse; being born without a sense, or losing it somewhere along the way. He's only really known the latter, and he's not sure that 'divinity' even falls into the same category.]

Ah, you just need to get yourself an assistant to boss around.

[Labelling things with braille would only go so far, clearly the solution is to just borrow someone else's eyes. Metaphorically.]

Here we are. You want me to hand it to you?

[It seems the easiest option, but for all that he's a rude bastard sometimes, he's not going to make assumptions about how Garner prefers to navigate the world.]

[whisperedone]

[He purses his lips as he considers that thought. An assistant isn't a terrible idea...though, here, he might want to spend some time learning what chemicals were used here, there were bound to be differences.]

That isn't a terrible thought, worth consideration, certainly.

[It would need to be someone who wouldn't be bored to tears in the waiting and someone he could trust to actually listen to him.]

And yes, that should be fine, so long as you are confident you can place it in my palm. [He says it with a note of playfulness in his voice as he holds his hand out, fingers spread.]

Thank you. You have been a greater help to me through our few conversations than perhaps you know.

[demonicmiracle]

['Creative problem solving' is sort of Crowley's brand, so he's a little pleased with himself that Garner thinks it's worth considering.

('Creative problem causing' is also his brand, but that's not important right now.)]

Well, fortunately for us both I've only had one drink, so I reckon I can figure it out.

[He brings the glass over, resting one hand beneath Garner's upturned hand while he places the drink on his palm, waiting until he's got a grip on it before stepping back.]

Ehhh, it isn't a big deal. [Garner can't see the way he wrinkles his nose, but it might be obvious in his tone that he's still not comfortable with gratitude.] I'll talk shite about music and what-have-you until the cows come home.

[whisperedone]

[That might be important later.

For now, Garner takes the drink once it's in his hand and uses the other to shift it so he can give it a taste.

He makes a pleased sound and nods as he savors the sip.]

That is very good.

[Again, Crowley has broadened his horizons beyond the limited field he knew, not that it was especially hard, he could at least acknowledge that.]

That is the second time you've brushed off my praise...I'm curious. Are you low in self-esteem or simply think you are not capable of helping another? Or...perhaps, even...you were not exaggerating that you are allergic to being kind? Well, being called kind.

you cant just read a man for filth like this, garner

[demonicmiracle]

[Well he was going to be a smug bastard about the drink being good, but now he's going to have to behave like a cat that just had a bucket of water dumped on it.]

My self-esteem's perfectly fine, thank you. [Crowley's very good at multitasking; he can be a vain, smug asshole AND full of self-loathing at the same time.] Kind isn't the sort of word you want to be associated with, where I'm from.

[Not Earth so much as Hell. Even if there are no demons here looking over his shoulder, it's a deeply ingrained habit born out of fear, so not the sort of thing he can just... stop.]

look when you roll high, a minus 1 on insight means nothing

[whisperedone]

[He can't help the small eyebrow raise of a 'I you insist' but at least he doesn't voice it.]

And where would that be, where you're from? Not...a very long time ago, yet somewhere similar enough to here and knowledgeable enough in Earth's culture to be able to impart that knowledge readily...

[Verbal poker? Maybe a bit. He was confident enough in the hand he had, at least.]

nat20 in being a nosy bitch

[demonicmiracle]

[He's briefly tempted to snatch the drink back from Garner, but it'd likely cause a bit of a commotion and Aziraphale would pout at him about it.]

Oh, I'm from all sorts of places, but it was Earth before I got here, just a different version of it.

[That absolutely does not answer the question.]

[whisperedone]

Ah...as you said...well traveled and prone to hopping from one interest to another...over a decent amount of time to have any proficiency in anything you do...

[He takes another, quiet, sip of his drink.]

You didn't answer my question. You do that a bit as well, when it's about you, anyway.

[demonicmiracle]

Might be a bit much calling it proficiency. You haven't heard me try to play piano.

[Demons are not especially musical, as it turns out, though he's not a terrible singer if he's drunk enough to not care about it.]

Well, it's not really anyone's business, is it?

[He prefers his privacy, especially when it comes to emotions.]

[whisperedone]

No, I suppose not...Though, I will say: refusing to tell a man who won't know the name of the place where you're from that name is....odd.

That leads me to believe that it is a place that, despite my not being from Earth, you think I will know. Which is interesting.

[And narrows his options, if he truly wanted to be nosy.]

That said...I have no interest in forcing your hand. I respect you more than to pry further than your comfort.

You could tell me, instead, about what drink I should try next or how you intend to beat all these men of their money?

[demonicmiracle]

[First of all.]

Or I can't be arsed to give you the half hour explanation that'd be needed to give even a lick of context.

[He's not sure what to make of Garner just... apparently dropping the subject, but at least his confused squint isn't visible.

People are weird.]

The first question very much depends on what sort of flavors you like. If you're into sweet shite, you're outta luck with me. [He has no advice there.] As for beating everyone, that's easy as anything. All you've got to do is figure out when everyone else is bullshitting.

[whisperedone]

[He shrugs lightly and takes another sip of his drink. That could also be very possible; people were, after all, complicated.]

Ah...well, then you are at a supreme advantage there. I would do well to take notes, for I have never been especially good at knowing someone is bullshitting. [He wasn't horrifically gullible, but he had his days.

As for the question of flavors...how did he even describe that? What did he even like? Not overly sweet, he could be sure of that at least.]

I...think I like earthy tones? If...that's a descriptor one might use for taste.

[demonicmiracle]

Well, you're at a bit of a disadvantage regardless, but if you're clever you can make it work.

[Watching people is an important part of the process, so Garner's missing out there, but it's also likely to make people underestimate him, which he can always use.

The description earns a scoff of amusement.]

That'd be why you like the whiskey. I prefer the peaty ones, which're plenty earthy. [He hums, giving it a second of thought.] You might like tequila drinks, they can be sorta smoky and a bit richer. Maybe some aperitifs, those're a lot like the bitters, made from herbs and whathaveyou. If you wanna go straight to a cocktail, a bees knees could do the trick if you swap out the gin for a good mezcal. S'just the alcohol, honey, and a bit of lemon juice.

[He'd offer to make one if he had mezcal on hand, but it isn't something he drinks typically, so it hasn't been worth investing in.]

[whisperedone]

[He settles back against the counter once more, now with his drink, and nods as Crowley speaks. This was all very good information and, while he didn't know some of those names, he would endeavor to give them a try.]

"Bee's Knees" is an interesting name, I was not aware Bees had knees of note.

[Though, the addition of honey made sense.]

Is alchemy or drink making another...abandoned project of yours?

[demonicmiracle]

[Do bees have knees? This isn't a question for 'Gorillas can't make nests that's what birds do' to answer.]

S'an idiom, no idea where it came from, actually. Just means something's good.

[It makes sense for it to end up as the name of a cocktail, with the honey involved.]

Eh, more of an on and off hobby. It's a lot easier these days with the internet, don't have to go digging around for recipes. And I did dabble in some alchemy back in the day, but it gets too messy for my taste.

[He tends to lean towards the more theoretical sciences, rather than practical ones.]

[whisperedone]

[Ah…he liked idioms, but there certainly wouldn’t be much cause for the ones he knew here, not without equal confusion.]

You are not incorrect…it only takes a moment of too much time or the wrong amount of something to ruin a solution. Sometimes to a messy end. I suppose that is what I liked about it: the precision and certainty of a known formula, as well as the mess and excitement of experimentation and discovery.

[Perhaps he would look into that assistant or partner to be his eyes. In time, anyway.]