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| Chances Are | |
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| Participants | Laura, Gambit, Banshee |
| Synopsis | Laura drinks, Gambit cashes in and Banshee watches. What're the chances? |
| Location | Boar's Head Bar & Grill |
| Time | 12 - 28 - 2015 |
| Posted By | Gambit |
It's not safe in the city most days, but at night, it's probably less so. But Laura stuck to the safer areas, then snuck around where she could to get to a pub that she knew at least that no one she'd know would walk in. She's annoyed. She's pissed off. And she just wants a drink. Not that she can actually get drunk. It's a total waste of time, waste of money but right now, she doesn't care. Combat boots stomping their way into the place, the slight form of Laura enters the establishment. She stops briefly, looks around, then stomps over to the bar. Nodding at the old man behind the barrier and says abruptly, "Vodka. Pour the first shot. Leave the bottle." She then pulls some money out of a back pocket and tosses it at the old guy — who is already obliging her order.
While it happens to be a bit of a known fact that most regulars are attached to the stools of the bar of this place, there's a couple that prefer the tables just beyond. One of those table-preference regulars happens to be kicked back in his chair, flinging cards around at the other three men sitting at his table. His hat is tilted slightly on his head and there's even a smirk plastered on his lips as he announces, "Dis da' last hand, boys. Last chance t' get ya' money back." Grumbles come from the rest of the men at the table, while the dealer seems to be already chucking victoriously. He must be that good or thinks he is. Either way, the poker game is on.
Money is taken and glass full of clear liquid is shoved roughly across the bar. Laura scoops up both the glass and bottle. She knocks back the contents of the glass, then turns around to look at the rest of the establishment while she pours herself another. One can't help but notice the poker game going on, especially as the dealer announces that it's the last hand of the game. Curiosity is a funny thing. Not that she has any interest in playing. No, she's just interested in how confident about the game the man seems and how the others grumble, yet allow themselves to be drawn into the obvious trap. She snorts slightly to herself, then pushes away from the bar to go and hover around the table, seeming to be interested in how the last hand goes.
Nothing seems to be changing in terms of luck for the tale. One of the men folds immediately, while the other two are playing the Raise and Call game with each other. The hat wearing dealer doesn't even look at his cards, before he shoves all of his take right to the center of the table. "All in." And then he's kicking back to watch the rest of the table deal with this issue. The other two men left in this hand are busy looking at each other and then back at the huge pile of dinero in the center of the table. Both of them go all in and cards are flipped. The end result is that the dealer himself has taken the pot with a Straight Flush. "T'anks for playin'. Ya' been great. Same time t'morrow?" As the money is taken by the thick accented card shark, the rest of the players shove and growl and exit the table angrily.
The second shot of vodka's knocked back with only the slightest of winces at the taste. It's obviously not 'the good stuff'… the good stuff goes down like water. Laura watches the men bet it all and summarily lose it all. As they leave the table, grumbling and being generally pissy, Laura chuckles quietly. It's a low sound but not likely low enough to not be noticed by the dealer, if he chooses to notice it. If he doesn't notice, that's fine, because the next sound which leaves her is a simple, "It seems you have Lady Luck in your pocket, stranger. Shame on them for not realizing it sooner." She doesn't mean it in a figurative sense — she's not accusing him of keeping cards in his pocket. She's being figurative. "Well played."
"Can't say it got much t' do wit' luck, but money is money." The money is scooped up as he looks up to peer at the one that's decided to offer her opinion. An eyebrow is raised, as if he's going to appraise this girl and make sure she isn't planning anything that could end up with her in some painful position. But soon enough, the money is shoved into pockets and he's already gathering up his cards to put them away. "T'anks. If I'd known I had an audience, I woulda' made it look a bit better." And there's a flashing of his confident grin.
As he looks up at her, she doesn't make a move toward him, the table, nor his money. It seems, she couldn't care less. She's a slight thing, even under the bulky black winter coat. "Aren't card games all about luck?" Laura asks, obviously not realizing there's more to it. "I mean… that's why I never gamble. Sometimes, if it weren't for bad luck… well, I'm sure you know the rest." She smirks a bit and then adds, "And you didn't have an audience for long, so don't fret about it. I just got here. Your table seemed to be the liveliest in the place." Let's face it… a bar like this, chances are, there's not a lot going on in it other than drinking or fighting. "You'd think, however, that they'd have known better to continue playing if you were whipping their asses so bad. Desperate or something, I guess…?"
"Times ain't easy. Ya' do what ya' need t' survive, right?" With the cards all pulled back into place and shoved into a pocket, he pushes up from the table and stretches for a moment. He happens to be quite pleased with himself, as can be shown by the smile that's on his face. "It ain't never really gamblin' when I'm playin'. Guess dat be why dey call me Gambit." Apparently, he doesn't have any qualms about this whole making his presence known around the city. Maybe it's part of his plan in the first place, to be perfectly honest. Or maybe he just wants the people in here to remember his name. Either way, there it is.
"Gambit, huh?" the dark-haired girl replies, picking that out of everything he's said so far. "Nice name. Fitting, I suppose, if you do that well every night," she allows with a grin. "Most of us don't have handy monikers like that. But anyway… I just wanted to say 'nice playing'. It was amusing to watch," she adds, raising her glass in a salute to him after she fills it again with the vodka in her hand. She's standing near the table Gambit rises from, still in her winter jacket. She knocks back the shot and then lowers it, to nod her head once.
Banshee makes his way in unobtrusively. The long stick he walks with stays outside, leaning against the wall of the establishment. No need to give anyone any ideas. He pulls back the hood of his cloak and clomps his way over to the bar, dirt from his boots fall to the floor when he takes up a stool, feet resting on the once-brass bar near the base. He nods to the bartender, dark-ish hair scruffy, and rubs a hand over his 5 o'clock shadow. When the bartender arrives, he says.. "I'll have a whiskey. Whate'er ye have. Now's not the time to be choosy." he says, before taking a look around the bar.
Gambit has never really been one to not pay attention to his surroundings and thus his eyes are cut over to the newest patron to waltz into the bar, but that's about it. His attention fades back to the girl he was conversing with, though, within the brief moment that it took him to take stock of the new entrant. "Glad I could be o' service. Gambit always aim t' please." He offers her a bit of a wink, before reaching up to straighten his hat. It may look like he's getting ready to get the heck out of dodge. "If ya' ever wantin' t' t'row down wit' us, I'm sure I could talk da' guys into lettin' a gal play." Gambit's always down to take someone else's money, thus the offer.
Not looking up when the door opens, Laura continues her conversation with the man known as Gambit. So far, the newcomer has not warranted her attention just yet, it seems. Perhaps she's not in the habit of noting every person — or perhaps she simply notices them in other ways. Either way, she doesn't look over just yet. "That's very kind of you, Gambit, but," she goes on to say, "from what I've seen, if I should ever take up poker, I should be sure not to play in a game against you. That's probably the only sure-fire bet to make, hm?" Now she looks up and around rather swiftly, briefly settling on the newcomer, as she realizes Gambit's looking to leave. "Anyway… nice to meet you. Seems you're on your way…?"
Banshee looks to the two more active patrons at the moment, taking the moment to memorize the face and general escription of the male. You never know when you may run into someone in the future, whether it ends up being a good experience, or bad. He's interupted by the barkeep who glares after putting the shot glass down on the bar, expecting payment. The Irishman reaches under his cloak and pulls out some cash, tossing it onto the bar. those who look closely would notice the pistol at his hip, but nowadays that's not so much of a rare sight.
"Gambit ain't never in one place t' long. Dat's how ya' lose da' cash ya' jus' got. Ya' gotta' know when t' stop." Gambit wags his finger playfully at the girl, just to make sure she understands that he's kidding around. Or being ironic. Or just giving her some advice. It's hard to tell with the smile on his face. "If ya' lookin' for somet'ing t' do t'night an' ya' wantin' t' tag along, I'm sure I could make t'ings a bit more interestin'." Wuh oh. There goes that damn Cajun Charm.
At the angle with which Laura sees the Irishman at the bar, she doesn't see the pistol. But she does say more quietly to Gambit, "You know that guy? He was looking at you kind of funny…" She then takes a step back, more than willing to allow the card dealer to leave. She doesn't want to cause problems for anyone. But then when Gambit speaks and invites her to join him for more interesting things, she makes a bit of a face. She's already heard that line once from someone else today. Granted, the other was about five years her junior, but still. "No offense, but you don't even know my name… and I don't know you from a hole in the ground. Thanks, but I think I'll pass." What is it with all the testosterone aimed in her direction these days?
Banshee glances one more time at the two, brow raised. Despite the noise in the bar, or the distance between the two groups, he can hear the both of them perfectly. Its quite understandable for the man to make the attempt, even moreso if the lady was one who would charge for such a service. This doesn't concern the ex-lawman. He notices the girl's reluctance and waits to see how the Cajun responds.
Gambit just offers a bit of a shrug to make sure that there are no hard feelings. "Ain't seen him before." comes the response from the Cajun. "Suit y'self. Maybe we be crossin' paths again soon." There's a wink from the Cajun before he reaches up to pull his hat off and he gives Laura a bit of a bow to make sure everything's on the up and up. This bow, of course, also helps him to take a gander over in Banshee's direction. Just to make sure he doesn't know this guy after all.
Her response should indicate that she's not the type of lady who charges for that kind of service, if the Irishman is inclined to notice it. That kind of lady wouldn't turn down an offer. Still holding her empty shot-glass and the opened bottle of vodka, she remains standing near the table in question, but she does stand back so Gambit can vacate as he wishes. As he bows, Laura can't help but actually smile. "Maybe. Never know, I suppose. Have a good one, gamblin' man," she offers in a bit of a salute, already reaching out for one of the chairs at Gambit's table since he's abandoning it. Dropping down on it, she pours herself another shot and merely gives the man one final salute before she falls silent again.
Banshee sees that all is kosher, at least for the time being. He takes the shot and puts the glass on the bar, ordering another.
Gambit doesn't waste anymore time. Nor does he linger. With a swoosh of his trenchcoat, the gambling man is making his way out of the exit and into the bitter cold that envelops the streets of this humbled city.
