(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

[bindlestifflost]

"Short of it is you got yourself a court where pitches are in and out a' bounds, a line you stand behind for your pitch, an' two pitches per turn. Closest horseshoe to the stake scores a point. You get both closest, you score two points. You pitch a ringer, it's three points. Closest and a ringer it's four. If the other fella scores a ringer on top a' yours, it cancels yours and they don't score no points, neither. Follow so far?" Honestly, that's most of it in a nutshell with just a few nuances that are easier to show than describe. "You usually play to 40 points, or you can jes' high score off 40 pitches if it's jes' two of you."

[abrightboy]

“What’s a ‘ringer’?” Malcolm asks, his attention avidly caught.

[bindlestifflost]

"That's when you get a good solid hit on the stake and it stays there, even like." He demonstrates with one hand in the shape of a "C" and two fingers of the other extended upward. "If it's touching but ain't even..." He offsets his hand. "That's a leaner. It's one point, and it's closer than anything but a ringer."

[abrightboy]

“Oh, because of the noise it makes?” Malcolm realizes. “That’s great! So. You always know when you get one.”

[bindlestifflost]

"Yep. You'll know awwright. Worst feeling is when you hit one, and it zings off again. You'll see. If it was jes' about hittin' that stake, I reckon any man could do it eventually. Takes finesse, too." He can't help but think of that day a little, old Crooks showing them all up and looking to clean out by the end of the day, him and his team.

He probably didn't see any of that money. Helluva a weird thing to be thinking about right now.

[abrightboy]

"So it has to hit it and stay there. That's much more exciting. Hey, if you teach me to throw horseshoes, I could teach you something. I know how to throw axes and they have a bunch in the training room," Malcolm offers.

[bindlestifflost]

"That's right. It ain't near as simple as it looks." Otherwise, he doubts most men would waste much time on playing it as avidly as they do. Did?

"Sure. Way it sounds things get around here, might be a useful skill for me to have." It's preferable to guns.

[abrightboy]

“I know how to fight with swords, too, if you want to learn that.”

George has also taught him fishing.

[bindlestifflost]

"Like some Errol Flynn, huh?" Not that he'd been able to see Captain Blood. Didn't mean it wasn't all over the papers at the time. "I might feel a tetch ridiculous with that." He pauses, thinking. "I could swing a mean sickle back in the day." On his family's place, too small potatoes for any of that fancy machinery.

[abrightboy]

“Sort of, I guess. I was on the Harvard fencing team when I was in college. Once I pick something up, if I like it, I just have to go all in,” he explains with a shrug.

[bindlestifflost]

Harvard. He almost laughs, not that it's the ha ha sort of funny beyond the complete absurdity of someone like him rubbing elbows with someone like this and...liking him. Having a few things in common even, in an odd sort of way.

"You? All in?" His slow grin is probably starting to be a little familiar, sly humor without a point or edge to stab or cut. He nudges him companionably.

"I ain't sayin' no to trying it. Jes' don't expect much." He doesn't see himself as a refined sort at all, no one fancy. Not cut from the same cloth as the likes of Errol Flynn, or even Malcolm Bright.

[abrightboy]

"Just enough to protect yourself in a Dogtown knife fight," Malcolm promises. "The axe throwing... that's just for fun."

[bindlestifflost]

"Now see, I'd have thought it'd be the other way around." Not that he really thinks he will be running around town wielding swords or axes. It does beg the question what protection he needs for himself. This world is even more dangerous than the one he left. He will need something.

[abrightboy]

"I mean, if throwing an axe will save someone's life, I'm all for using it in the field," Malcolm concedes with a grin. "Better than a gun, anyway." He shrugs. "I know how to use them but I was never a fan."

[bindlestifflost]

"Much better 'n a gun." Some of the spark drains out of his expression, not to the point he completely loses the thread. He's just not that good at faking it.

[abrightboy]

“You don’t like them either,” Malcolm blurts out before he can remember his manners around just reading people’s faces like that. “Sorry,” he immediately says as manners rush back. “People just usually like them in this country,” he jokes lamely.

[bindlestifflost]

"Naw. I don't." He waves a hand abruptly. He doesn't need a sorry. Not for that. "People like all kinds a' things they shouldn't."

[abrightboy]

“When I was in the FBI, I talked a suspected serial murderer into putting down his weapon and surrendering. The local sheriff ran in and shot him in the back. I punched the sheriff in the face. That’s what I got fired from the FBI for,” Malcolm admits. “I was always better at talking than shooting.”

[bindlestifflost]

One corner of his mouth twitches up a little. Of course he did. On both counts. He can see it clear as day. "Ain't no shame in getting fired for doing the right thing." How many times was he the one who lost the work because of people who couldn't leave Lennie alone? He claps him on the back once.

"It's a good skill. Better than shooting, if you ask me. Any idiot can pull a trigger."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm smiles over at him, a little relieved. A little validated.

"I shouldn't have lost my temper, though," he admits. "Punching the sheriff. I knew they were looking for a reason to get rid of me and I gave them one."

[bindlestifflost]

"We all got our limits." Not that he's the best person to be waxing philosophical about having a go at people. He's been in more than his fair share of dust ups for lesser reasons.

"If you'd a' done it anyway, knowing what you know, it wasn't a mistake. It was jes' time to go."

[abrightboy]

"I am better off consulting for the NYPD in a lot of ways. The people I work with are better. I work for a lieutenant who's the best cop I've ever known," he admits.

[bindlestifflost]

"Then it wasn't a mistake. It was a favor you did yourself without realizing it." He's grinning, knowing he's a little full of shit with that and not caring at all.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm laughs. "I guess I did."

He glances over to see where Neal is. He's still cleaning up at the poker table. He turns his attention back to George.

"How are you finding your job at ADI?" he asks.

[bindlestifflost]

"Making a little progress, I reckon. They still got me training on some a' the tech stuff, getting me more up to speed. I been heading out into the town some. Asking around, talking to some a' the fellas at the docks, some at the church soup kitchens." Poking around in the sorts of places he doesn't stand out and where he can build up some rapport.