Logs:... Poker in the Rear?
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| RL Date: 6 March, 2015 |
| Who: Itsy, Farideh, Rafevan, Drex |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Boy problems. |
| Where: Random Tunnel, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 8, Month 3, Turn 37 (Interval 10) |
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| Drex's secret room is steadily growing more not-so-secret, since in addition to Farideh and Itsy already knowing where it is, now Rafevan does too, with the sailor leading the way left, right and left, down tunnels where the glows have faded almost entirely. The last turn opens out into a once-used and abandoned storage room, the boxes having been rearranged relatively recently. One forms a table, while smaller boxes form makeshift chairs. Off to one side, Drex's pile of collected items sits on his makeshift throne, mostly covered with random clothes. "So, here it is," the sailor announces, as he sets a bottle on the table, spreading his hands like it's something impressive, glancing towards the smith expectantly. Given the location of their rendezvous, and Itsy's present (and continued) state of upset with Drex, perhaps it's not a complete surprise that she's dressed for the occasion: deliberate and obvious, in a dress, hatless, with her dreads braided and pinned up into something resembling a crown. Even without boots, she has a tendency to clomp, which is rather ungraceful not to mention loud even before she's arrived; still, she sweeps into the room, Farideh alongside her, not long after the boys arrive. "Still a shit hole," she announces, words tacked on after Drex's. Hi. Neither does Rafevan look especially impressed, though he minimizes that response with a small smile and an echoing, "Here it is." He steps in, peering at their little setup, before Itsy interrupts and he slants a look back at her. "Evening," Rafe drawls a more polite greeting. There's nothing deliberate about her appearance, or clomp-y about her walk, but Farideh does look highly smug when she enters the converted storage room at Itsy's side. She even manages to link her arm through the sailor's, smiling broadly and giving the cavern a sweeping look from floor to ceiling; as if she's never seen it before. "I think it looks nice. Look, there's," tilting her head to stare at the maneuvered boxes, "kind of a table and chairs." Her voice is imbued with apparent amusement, a sentiment that widens her smile until her cheeks dimple. "It's better than playing in the bar with all those other people around." Hi, indeed. That clomping is unmistakable to Drex, and he immediately looks at Rafevan. "What's she doing here?" with a gesture of thumb towards the door, before he's even looked. And when he does, it's with a moment of gaping incredulous. It takes a moment for him to recover himself, by which he mutters, "I am way too fucking sober for this," as his arms fold across his chest, though there's somewhat less aggression in his gaze when his eyes travel to Farideh. "Did anyone else think to bring something to drink?" Besides him. "Or," for that matter, "Any cards?" That reaction, Drex's reaction, is very plainly exactly what Itsy was after with this get-up; her expression is triumphant, first at the other sailor, and then, side-long, towards Farideh. Tugging the other woman along with her, she aims for the table; once sitting, she carelessly hikes up her skirts to pull a flask from where it has been lashed to her thigh. It gets set on the 'table,' the sailor leaning forward to do so. Leaning forward... in a dress that proves, for once and for all, that she is in fact a woman, breasts and all. "Ah. I might have suggested Farideh invite someone as well. It's more fun that way, isn't it? More people." Rafevan looks perfectly, blandly innocent of his hand in this meetup, moving to seat himself--very carefully--on one of the boxes. It creaks but holds his weight, at least, and he slides a deck from his jacket pocket. "Unless anyone thinks I might have stacked the deck?" he suggests, setting it on their 'table' in front of Itsy and her womanly assets. "I invited her," comes on the heels of Rafevan's answer, and is paired with a bright smile. Farideh gives one of the boxes - her seat - a dissatisfied look before she sits carefully on the edge, and turns to watch Itsy's skirt show with mild exasperation writ on her face. "I think that would defeat the purpose of learning, if I drink and can't remember it," she sighs, and turns instead, to Rafevan and his deck of cards, eagerly anticipating. "You're going to stack the cards? What does that do?" The smith's response earns a noise from Drex, the sailor not quite elucidating what he means by it. He's looking at Itsy -- of course he is -- mouth pressing into a thin line as he follows the others to the makeshift table and chairs. He chooses a seat that puts a table between him and Itsy, and lets him sit next to Farideh. "More for me," is his response to the laundress' answer, though her latter one earns a look of horror. "Please don't ever play with anyone other than us until you know the answer to that," the sailor says, with a sharp exhale of breath, as he reaches for the bottle on the table. "Not 'less you want to lose the clothes on your back?" he gives her a considering, sudden grin at that thought. "We are not playing strip poker," announces Itsy, warning note in her tone. She nudges her 'chair' closer to Farideh's, as if to suggest protectiveness of the other woman, though the glance she aims at the cards, as she reaches for them, is rather more ruthless. Shuffling - relatively expertly - she says, "These're fine. What rules d'you usually play, eh?" At least this means she's put all that bare skin on her leg away, skirt tossed back down unapologetically. "Just because you didn't wear enough layers--," says Rafe, though he's teasing Itsy. But he is, definitely, wearing layers himself: it's winter at High Reaches, and the wet chill creeps into the bones otherwise. "I think I've picked up the basics of most variants," he tells Itsy then, after slanting a bemused look at Farideh, silent support for Drex's caution. "The benefit of fellow apprentices from across the continent. Dealer's choice, then?" Since she's decided to take on that role with shuffling, apparently. "No, I should think not," Farideh agrees with Itsy, tartly. "I'd be at an unfair advantage, besides--" Her eyes narrow slightly at Drex. "I know better than that. It's not like I'd go ask to join one of the betting games." His later grin gets a nose wrinkle and perturbed toss of her head, focus redirecting to Rafevan and his expertise. "You can start explaining now," because apparently, their terms aren't sinking in, and it's with a furrowed brow and a frown that she watches Itsy shuffle the deck. "We're not?" It's possible Drex is putting on the disappointment in his voice. Then again, maybe not. "And I thought that's why you dressed up for little ol' us, Itsy." The grin he gives her is both teasing and wolfish, his discomfort of earlier abated enough, possibly now that she's rearranged his skirt, and he's had a couple of gulps from his bottle, which he sets down near him. He's watching Itsy shuffle the deck closely, like he's watching for something, though he's talking to Farideh as he says, "It aint always about betting. You can play for other things." He seems content to leave the explaining to the others. Itsy's tone is bland: "We're not." It's pretty final, at least as far as she is concerned. "Last thing I want to see is your shrivelled bits." Because clearly, they're going to lose. She doesn't leave much room for comment following that, instead launching into a careful explanation of some pretty standard rules. A cheater at cards though she frequently is, there doesn't seem to be anything untoward in the way she shuffles, nor in her proficient dealing, cards slid one by one across the table to each of them. "You can bet almost anything," Rafevan agrees with that much, for his part. He picks up his cards to glance at them when Itsy deals, and then he considers. "I suppose the first thing we should explain is hands: you have to know what you have before you know what you're willing to risk. Starting at the bottom, you've got a pair--two fives, let's say. Then, two pair: two fives, two eights; or some variation thereof. Three of a kind, which I hope goes without explanation," he tells her, reaching himself for the bottle Drex has procured. Let the drinking begin. A dramatic sigh and an eye roll signifies Farideh's lack of care about what all one can or can't bet, and she folds her arms on the table, leaning forward to watch Itsy deal out the cards. Collecting her cards in both hands, she fans them out in front of her nose and frowns. "Pairs. I just need pairs?" she asks querulously, peering at Rafevan over the top of her hand. "Aint so shrivelled, now we're on land," Drex counters, with an apparent ease to suggest this is normal and not exceptionally untoward banter. With a glance at Rafevan, he asks casually, "Know any good artists, Rafe? Think I want to immortalize this," a gesture Itsy-wards, "Somehow. Show all the boys on the ship. Or," with a grin, "At least keep it as a threat." He doesn't seem too bothered by Rafe reaching for his bottle, occupied as he is with frowning at his cards. "Some of it is bluffing, too. Sometimes you want to pretend you have a really bad hand when you have a good one, or a good one when you have a really bad hand." "You just want some wank-art," Itsy says, rolling her eyes; plainly, that is more important than the cards themselves, though she's surveying her hand with a practiced eye nonetheless. "Pairs're good," she adds, then, to Farideh. "Why don't you play an open hand, and we can point out your possibilities. Might make it easier, eh?" "Drex, my friend," says Rafevan, in his gentlest voice, for the discussion of shriveled parts at least. "Witty banter really isn't your strong suit, and art isn't mine--unless you consider detailed notations on her technical dimensions relevant." He does pause to eye Itsy for a moment, as though calculating them in his head already. As for the rankings of hands, he nods toward Itsy, noting, "Oh, no. Those are only the lowest combinations. It gets more complicated from there. But you'll see." Per Itsy's instruction - whether for good or for bad - Farideh carefully lays her cards out on the table in front of her elbows and stares unhappily down at them. It's with the same frown that she looks up, then between Drex and Itsy while they banter back-and-forth, before taping one of her cards with her forefinger. "Do all of you play this game often?" she wants to know, suddenly disbelieving. "I'd pick someone prettier for wank art," Drex counters with a snort. Rafevan's words earn a roll of his eyes as he reaches to acquire his bottle back. "Sometimes," he adds to Farideh, "Talk is just as important. Distracting people from concentrating on the game, you know?" He doesn't seem to be helping with the specifics of poker so much as all the gaming around it, though that doesn't mean he doesn't lean forward to peek at Farideh's cards when she reveals them. With a shrug, he says, "Aint all that much to do on a ship in downtime." Itsy's exposed bosoms tremble, as if intent on escaping from the confines of her bodice. That's probably because she's leaning forward to get a better look at Farideh's cards, too - clearly doing that is better than answering Drex. Ever. "You've a two, a three, and a five," she says, pointing one slender finger towards the cards. "So you could exchange those cards," she indicates the others, "and hope for a four, or another of the others. What else could she do?" The question is aimed at Rafe. Maybe Drex went invisible. Rafevan leans over too, though nothing of us jiggles in the process. Alas. "That might be your best hope," he agrees, nodding to Itsy. "And while you might not--probably won't--get that lucky, maybe you can at least pull a pair out of the deal." "Isn't it luck of how the cards are dealt?" Farideh asks Drex, looking up from her cards. "It's not as though I can get-- any of those-- what, complicated matches? With these." Woe. "A four," she repeats after Isty and then Rafevan, "or-- a pair." Her chin falls on an upraised fist at the same time she slumps forward, posture not at all straight anymore; all of the fun seems to have gone out of the game. "Poker?" blandly, to the sailor again. "On a ship? How do you manage that? Won't the cards just," with a flick of the fingers on her unoccupied hand, "fly away?" "That, or if you've got a good poker face, you can pretend like you got a straight. As long as the others don't have the cards to disprove what you're claiming, you can get away with it. Gets interesting when the dealer deals face up." Drex glances at Itsy, briefly, but doesn't say anything to her. His face wrinkles at Farideh's question, "You can play below decks," he says, in a you're so silly type of tone. "We really ought to kidnap her onto our ship," he tells Itsy, like he forgot for a moment they're meant to be fighting. "For her own good." Itsy nudges two of her cards towards the centre of the table with the apparent intent of discarding them, though a side-long glance at Farideh has her pausing; this is, after all, supposed to be fun. Drex's comment earns, after a moment more, a bland stare. "Didn't think we had a ship," she remarks. "... or maybe a ransom?" suggests Rafe dryly. "I'm sure a laundress is worth much at sea--no offense." The latter to Farideh; but mostly now he's quiet, trading in a couple of his own cards and glancing between Itsy and Drex with expectation. The slow-forming frown for Rafe's ransom suggestion transforms into an odd smile after a moment. "None taken. Isn't it bad enough we have to use the public baths here? You probably can't even, on a ship-- and maybe you can, in the ocean, but it's not the same. There's no clean water or soap or--" Farideh trails off, her expression going dreamy; probably thinking about an inviting bubble bath. She doesn't seem to mind the words being exchanged between the sailors. "Spring aint too far away." Drex counters Itsy's words, easily. Rafe gets a strange sort of look, before he glances consideringly at Farideh. "Ransom her for a new set of clothes, maybe," with a sudden grin. "You wash the Weyrleader's clothes, right? He's about my size, though he's, you know, way skinner." At least in his head. He, too, discards a couple of cards. With a shrug, he grins, "Skinny dipping in the ocean is often easiest. I could make the others look away." Or, more accurately, he could try and fail, more than likely. "Told you," puts in Itsy, glancing back towards Farideh. "Sailors stink. Salt water's nasty to wash in." The way she shakes her head? She's not interested in dragging the laundress on board with-- her? Them? Whatever the plan is at this moment. Which, "Don't know if I'm interested in having you on my ship." Itsy reaches for the deck in order to start dealing again, but then stops and goes for her flask instead. "Might find me someone else. Someone who don't mind sailing with a woman." "Surely he's never minded before," says Rafe mildly, glancing at his fresh cards and rearranging them to suit. "Unless you were hiding your gender away like some harper's story, and he's only just discovered--" he can't help it; his eyes slide downward to the cut of that dress "--otherwise. Or maybe I'm just misunderstanding?" He glances to Farideh, like she's going to interpret. If she can get her head out of the baths. "You can find new clothing in the stores, and," Farideh doesn't look amused while she's expostulating, "he's much taller than you." She makes a face at Drex, crossing her arms over her chest in a somewhat defensive pose. "I'm not going to live on any ship. Now or ever. Yours or anyone else's." Her eyes shift curiously to Itsy after that, studying the other girl briefly, before shooting back to Drex, to await his reaction. "No. I think the issue is that Itsy wants to dress like one and act like one, and maybe be with them," which is surely not a reference to the sailor's sexual preferences, but neither does Farideh clarify, exactly. Drex pauses, frowning at Itsy. "Since when the fuck have I minded sailing with you? You're the one with sand in your..." his glance slides towards Farideh, and his mouth snaps shut, jaw clenching. "Whatever." He tosses his cards down -- face down, by habit -- snatches up the bottle and retreats to his 'throne' of boxes. "You dealt me suckish cards, anyway." "Me?" Itsy's tone is utterly disdainful. "You're all fuckwits." She abandons cards, and instead takes a long drink from her flask, tossing it back artlessly. "Farideh, I'll teach you cards some other time. Without these--" These somethings, because apparently Rafe - thanks to his comment or perhaps that glance - is included in that. "If he can't deal with me being who I am, then fuck it. I'm done." She stands. And this is when Rafevan reaches over to collect the cards, one hand at a time, and reshuffle like two of their members aren't either sulking or flouncing off. "I imagine it's difficult for everyone, seeing someone they've clearly known for a long time in a different light. Or being seen that way," he notes, with a glance to Itsy for it. "Relationships are always easier with people you don't know so well. Wouldn't you agree?" The question's put to Farideh. Farideh's eye move continuously between Itsy and Drex, though she reserves her words for when they've both taken leave of their seats. "You're both acting stupid." To Rafevan, she says, "This was a bad idea." It's a little too late, obviously. She looks distinctly annoyed by the newest turn of events, and that her poker lesson was succinctly ruined. "How's that?" she asks dubiously, letting the apprentice distract her, for now, from the tension in the room. Bonelessly dropping onto his high box chair, Drex takes a pull from the bottle, while narrowed eyes stare in the direction of the group. He's perfected the art of the sulk, after all. It's not like he can't hear them, and the twisting of his expression says more than anything he could say aloud. "It's not my fault he's blind and stupid," announces Itsy who hasn't actually moved away from the table-- although that's probably because she's now hoisted one foot up onto it (it quivers, perilously) so that she can hoist up her skirt again and attempt to reattach the flask. A lady she clearly is not. "Ain't ever been anything but what I am. I was born to this." "The sailor's life? Or a woman?" says Rafevan, curious. He ignores Drex, like they all mostly do. To Farideh, he shrugs. "Oh. Well. The people you know best, you know all their terrible qualities. The ones you don't, they're still new and fascinating." Both hands fly up to Farideh's face when Itsy puts a foot on the table and lifts her skirts, and she practically wails the, "oh, Itsy, no." She shakes her head fretfully back and forth a few times, and keeps staring with wide eyes until they drop back to Rafevan. "Is that how you'd say it? I find strangers and new acquaintances to have more terrible qualities than my friends," she answers simply. Drex is still being ignored, at least while Itsy is busy domineering the table and (likely) giving her heart palpitations. Drex is definitely not looking where Itsy's flashing, no. Instead, he twists so that his legs hang over one 'arm' of his makeshift chair, the other serving as a head rest, staring at the roof. It's an awkward position to drink, though, but he manages it (even if he fails at doing so effortlessly). Itsy's glance towards Farideh is confused: "Huh?" she asks. On the plus side, it doesn't take her long to get that flask re-attached, and then she pulls her foot down again. It's okay, Farideh! No more legs (and more) on display! "Both," she says in answer to Rafe, promptly. And now, firmly, she begins stalking towards the door. "Not my fault people can't cope with the truth. I'm out." And... exit. Well. This went well, says Rafevan's small smile, while he straightens the cards and then pockets the deck again. "Good night, Itsy," he tells their fleeing companion. And, to Drex, afterward, "Should I consider my part in your future adventures on hold until you two find a way to kiss and make up?" He just looks bemused at Farideh's answer, or maybe the haste she has to cover up Itsy's naughty bits. Everything's all good and well when Itsy gets down, except it's not. Her exit prompts another frown from Farideh, who turns it on Rafevan first, before passing it along to Drex with an added glare for emphasis. "Why did you have to make her mad? We could have played cards, together. Rafe said he was going to teach me. Now--" Now, they're not, and that's no good, apparently. Standing, the laundress combs fingers, in an agitated way, through her curls, and stares despondently at the entryway. "Not on hold," comes Drex's words. "I'll work out something. Even if it's without her," which, in itself, is a terrifying prospect, and pure bravado, if the way he rolls to his feet and starts pacing after is any guide. "Me?" is his incredulous response to Farideh. "I didn't do shit. She's the one that got all, you won't sail with me, so I'm not going to sail with you. I aint never said shit like that." A beat, before he crosses back towards the table, glancing between Rafevan and Farideh, and then to the latter: "You're friends with her. You can make her see reason, can't you? Aint right, her and me not sailing together." "I can still teach you," Rafe chimes in on that front, before adding dryly, "But did you really expect there to be much learning, let alone playing, in this group?" The only thing Farideh focuses on is the last half, where Drex asks her to talk to Itsy, even after Rafevan's piped in helpfully. She just scoffs at the sailor. "You're an idiot," is all she says, looking disgusted: with him, with Rafevan, with herself. And then she turns, following in Itsy's footsteps and exiting the cavern altogether. "What-- what did I do?" Drex is completely clueless, looking at Rafevan. Because, yeah, he'll know. "Good night, my friend," is all Rafe says soberly as he rises himself. "You're going to need it." |
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