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he said, "son, I've made a life out of readin' people's faces" [open]
WHO: The Iron Bull and YOU (open)
WHAT: Wicked Grace
WHEN: Afternoon and Evening of Firstfall 19
WHERE: Skyhold, in The Herald's Rest
NOTES: The practice rounds in the afternoon are one-on-one. The game in the evening for veterans will be party style, and we'll keep it to five total to make it manageable. If more than that want to play, we can start a second thread. Questions? PM me or ping me on plurk.
WHAT: Wicked Grace
WHEN: Afternoon and Evening of Firstfall 19
WHERE: Skyhold, in The Herald's Rest
NOTES: The practice rounds in the afternoon are one-on-one. The game in the evening for veterans will be party style, and we'll keep it to five total to make it manageable. If more than that want to play, we can start a second thread. Questions? PM me or ping me on plurk.
Afternoon
Well. Turned out more than a few of the Rifts were game to try their hand at the latest proposed form of distraction. And hey, Bull wasn't so bad of a teacher. Kind of fell in line with his nature, in a way. So all those newcomers who wanted to learn the ins and outs of Wicked Grace without gambling away what little they'd brought with them? Had access to a private training ground of sorts. A couple of tables set up near the back of the tavern, and a few of the Chargers who'd volunteered to help -- the more sociable of his merry band, anyway -- and anyone asking could easily be directed back to where Bull was shuffling up the cards, and nodding in welcome to those who approached.
"Hey. Glad you could make it. Pull up a chair, and we'll get started."
Evening
Playtime was over.
As the sky darkened and the fires in the tavern burned brighter, the booze started to circulate. Coins rattled in purses, and those who knew the game well enough were invited to come play for real stakes. No more taking it easy. Bull fully expected the best game out of those who came, or at least an entertaining one.
Maybe someone would drag a few of their stiffer companions along for a round or two. Cullen, for example. Man could use a break like no one could. But chances of that were admittedly slim, and they'd make it work, no matter who showed up.
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Smirking, Bull lets his hand fall away before moving to sit. No worry that the Commander's going to slip away. If he says he's staying, he'll do it, at least for a time, no matter how uncomfortable he is.
And it looks like he's anxious about something. Could be anything, really. Guy has a lot on his plate. Once settled again, Bull lifts a hand to signal the waitress closer.
"Come on, what are you having?"
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He spends all of his time with a four year old and a mabari. One drink won't kill him. "I'll have an ale." He'll drink it quickly, they'll chat a bit, and he'll still make it out before Josie turns up. Flawless plan. No possible way it could go wrong.
Not like Bull is smirking at him with the very knowing and satisfied smirk of a man who can be confident that he's slowly working the situation to the outcome he's planned. Not at all.
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"Top me off, and get the Commander an ale." He passes a coin off to the waitress, who gets tipped well and is therefore usually happy to see him with company. It's not a bribe to make sure he gets a particular good ale, no, not at all. A good ale might mean Cullen sticks around for two or three. Can't have that.
"Josie tell you why we were meeting up?" he queries after a moment, tipping his head in Cullen's direction.
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Because sitting here with Bull didn't count as socializing, no. He suspected it was more than likely the crowds and less the idea of being social that had Cullen spooked, but it was just a hunch. He got those, sometimes.