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

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

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.))

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George seems to take it in stride, the sidle up, the friendly overture. He shifts a little in his lean so that he's facing him just a little more, facing out a little less. "That's right. George Milton." He offers a hand to shake, drawing it out of his deep jacket pocket.

"Ain't no bother a'tall. Glad you could make it. Jes' call me George. Everybody does."

Martin takes it, tries to give what he thinks is a confident shake, but George likely beats him. At the very least, he's giving a smile about it.

"Nice to meet you, George. I'm Martin. Uhm, Martin Blackwood, but you know, just-- just Martin, the full name is so, so formal? Not really me." As George can probably tell, he's the wordy type, the British accent making him sound maybe more sophisticated than he is. "I guess you probably didn't show up here too long ago? I mean, not, not that I know everyone, just-- been here a bit, sort of get to know the, the faces and all."

"Jes' Martin it is," he says, his voice as easy as his manner. The guy seems the nervous type. He generally tries to set others at ease unless they give him a reason not to. This guy? Nobody he wants to rub the wrong way. It'd be sheer meanness.

"Yeah, I ain't been here too long. Couple a' weeks or so now. Figured as much work as we all put into learning our way around, maybe we don't get much chance a' saying hi and kickin' off the dust." He shoves his hand back into his pocket.

"How long you been here?"

Considering how much the universe has been mean to Martin, you'd be surprised, buddy.

George's accent is a little odd, like something Martin's heard on an old movie and not ever spoken to in real life. His little British mumbling is also probably foreign, so he's not going to draw attention to it. "Well, uhm... gosh, nine, ten months? It was last summer. Most people, uhm, haven't been here that long? Or well, ADI said it was, uh, more recently. But most of us, uhm, still less than a year."

He's trying to offer a smile as if that's reassuring, but it really depends on the person if ten months is a good or bad thing. He'll see how George reacts and go from there.

"That's longer than I usually stay in one place." He can already tell that's going to be a challenge for him above and beyond all the weirdness and his difficulty adjusting to the expense of things.

"If this is too pryin', tell me to go pound sand, but you got any idea why you in particular might've been dragged here? It ain't somethin' I've been able to figure out for myself." What business a migrant farm worker from almost a hundred years ago has in this place is a puzzle he might never put together. It's not stopping him from trying.

"Something else. There sure are a lot a' us from England."

"Oh, no, it's-- it's fine. I don't really know, though?" It's a lie- he knows damn well, but that's very much his secret, and at face value there's no good reason to assume he'd done anything to end up here. "I mean, I worked in a library? Before this. Some people were from, uhm, worlds with magic and stuff, but some of us are just... unlucky, I suppose."

None of what he says is wrong, which makes the whole thing easier; George isn't the first person he's lied to and he certainly won't be the last. "But there are, uh, l-lots of us from Britian, right? I thought it was just me n' Jon at first, but then people just sort of keep coming. Kind of nice to have some familiarity, though. Little bit of home."

"I could see library work bein' useful. Around a lot of books. Dealing with all kinds a' people." Anything public facing in a place like this is probably plenty useful. It's one of his few skills, only on the side of dealing with drifters and not folks most consider more respectable.

"Seem to be, yeah. I run into a lot so far. It's good to have that. 'Specially in another country." He shifts to lean his back fully against the side of the building, hunching his shoulders until he settles again. He never seems to hold any one position for long, perpetually restless.

"I went fishing a few days ago. Didn't catch nothin', then I read that article in the paper talking about...climate change, or whatever. It was still a nice day. I think that prob'ly felt more like home than anything else. Tonight comes close, too. Buncha folks drinking a little. Playing cards." He glances at him from the sides of his eyes. "Think we should all do that sometimes. Remind ourselves what's good when so much a' this shit's bad."

Martin is casually watching him, the way he moves, the perpetual action in him. It reminds him a little bit of Daisy or Basira, someone so used to a clear goal or path that's been pulled from them. Besides some quiet fidgeting, Martin is otherwise still, and seems to be pretty good at keeping himself that way.

"I agree, uh, it's-- it's really important to take time away from the work. So it doesn't, you know, t-totally eat you." It's a metaphor, but like... a very on the nose one. "My boyfriend is like that a lot, he, he tends to overwork himself. 'Ss always my job to turn up with some tea and biuscuts or drag him off to lunch. These things we're fighting aren't, you know, aren't human, so... we have to be extra. Human, I mean. Extra human, to keep it."

Another guy with a boyfriend. Unlike with Malcolm on the bus this time he doesn't shoot him a hard look or have much of an outward reaction at all. It's weird. He's not sure he'll ever get used to the way people are here, so open with things. Not just relationship things. Feelings. Their past. It makes him miss Slim something fierce just now.

"Yeah. I don't think bein' human'll ever come too hard to me. I don't know any other way to be. Fighting things that ain't? Still settling into that idea."

Sometimes you get to be in the future and have feelings, George. It's fine. It took a really long time for him to get to the point of saying boyfriend anyway, so it's probably a good thing George can be at least quiet about it this time or he'd probably never say it again. Anyway.

"I think you'll fit in really well here then. I mean, not that-- of course, i-it would be better if we were all home, but. Even if it doesn't seem like it, I, I think you're going to be a lot of help here to a lot of people. We all need reminders about being people more than we need, uhm, fighters with guns or something."

He's not so sure it'd be better if he was at home. It'd be just as bad, only a different kind of bad. As it is, it's the kind of bad that follows him anyway, like hearing the word gun and what it does to him. He's glad it's dark.

"I ain't much a fan a' guns. No worries there. Jes' consider me the cards and beers fella."

There was some sort of shift in him, and Martin doesn't pry for more context, instead just giving him a soft and sympathetic smile.

"I'm sure it'll be appreciated. I mean, I, I think it already is, from the commotion in there." He gestures vaguely back towards the party. "Maybe next time ADI will let us use one of their facilities. More space to, uhm, get more people involved, or something? Not that it isn't nice, the-- the smaller amount." Okay Blackwood, pull it together, now you're acting like a fool. "But I mean, I, I'm getting ahead of myself. Planning later, p-party now, right?"

He finds himself smiling. Not a big grin, but something quiet. Genuine. He likes this fella. He's gentle. Isn't enough of that in the world. The guys at the bunkhouse would've eaten him alive. He prefers what they've got going on here, however ragtag and strange.

"If we had more space, we could put on some music and have us a little shindig dance next time. Ain't a bad idea at all."

It's a practiced art, George. If Martin's careful and you're lucky, it'll stay like that and nobody needs to see any more of it.

Martin smiles in return, obviously happy to see his idea not being immediately shut down, and nods. "Yeah! Yeah, I think that'd be great, actually. I'll, uhm-- you know, remind me when we're actually working. I do some work for Administration, I'm sure I can get them to let us use some space." It'll be nice, planning something for once that maybe won't get interrupted by some cosmic horror. At the very least, they have to try.

"Oh yeah? Then I'll do that. It'll be a good time. We can put on some good dance music and get everybody out cuttin' a rug." Everybody might be a hard sell, and people's opinions of good dance music might differ a lot. It's still worth a shot.

"I'm gonna head back in, make sure Nick ain't letting everybody burn the place down." He is quite sure he isn't, but he's also a host, which means he can't duck out too long without being rude. "Sure glad you could make it. It's been nice meeting you."

Everybody is absolutely a hard sell, but Martin would settle for even the people just included in the room already. It's a nice thing to think of, and that's really what they need.

Martin just nods, smile still on his face. "Oh, of-- of course. Gotta do all the, uhm, h-hosting things, I won't keep you. It's been-- been really nice to meet you too."

All of it has, really. It's just nice to have someone else who's... nice. It's difficult to find sometimes, but this conversation was better for him than a lot of the recovery he's attempted in this world. So thanks, George. Ya did good.

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

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