[OPEN] deal me in

[unshut]

WHO: Fitcher + you and also you
WHAT: A weekly card game
WHEN: At some point every week, without fail
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Catch-all mingle space; threadjacking encouraged and time is an illusion. Threads are not required to have anything to do with cards or even include Fitcher; may be before/after the game etc. No rules, just right; get your banter and gossip on.

There are really only two rules to play at Fitcher's table: you mustn't be a bad sport, and come prepared with conversation.

In theory, an invitation and the lady in questions presence are also required but both those guidelines have been broken: anyone who shows up in the the dining hall on the right evening who displays any interest in the game being played at one of the tables earns themselves an invite; and at least once Fitcher has appeared, slung back a single glass of wine, then announced, "I've work elsewhere tonight, but I expect a full account of all that occurs," before disappearing into the night.

It's sometimes loud and it's sometimes quiet. There are nights where more drinking is done and others with only a single shared bottle. Sometimes there are enough players to warrant splitting the game and sometimes it's just Fitcher, lying out a spread for Solitary as she smokes from a pipe and occupies herself with a little evening bookkeeping.

It's pleasant. It's a good distraction. One should never think too hard about these things.

Comments

[overharrowed]

"Ah. Satisfying, I hope, if not exactly exciting by most standards." While mathematics aren't his area of expertise, his temperament is methodical enough to understand the appeal. A job well completed is its own reward, etc.

"Has it been a significant headache, accounting-wise, to break off from the Inquisition? I confess, I haven't much knowledge of how separate our books were or weren't before the schism." He does seem genuinely interested, though more in the way of someone making conversation than someone invested deeply in the answer.

[murderbaby]

Mhavos shrugs. "It's convoluted and messy, but that gives my work more worth. It's not my life's passion, but I do not hate it; the same cannot be said of all. One does not have to be rabidly passionate about their work to be happy, thank the Maker."

He lays down to more cards, beginning his gambit.

[overharrowed]

"Truer words," Julius says, though in truth he's speaking more from observation than experience. He has always been somewhat married to his work, even if the nature of that work has changed dramatically.

He draws another card and considers it before discarding a different one. "And lucky for us. There are a great many tasks that keep the Gallows running that are unlikely to inspire passion. I'd just as soon we not wait to find a full compliment of people devoted to mopping floors or taking inventory of the larder." He smiles. "Though perhaps I'm doing a disservice to those who find satisfaction in things being in their assigned place."

[murderbaby]

"To each, their place? How Orlesian of you." He doesn't mean it as an insult. He mostly means it as a joke. But Mhavos almost entirely tells jokes for himself, and that occasionally shows.

"I think many enjoy their work simply for having it. I have fewer frights in my heart larger than being turned out to the streets."

[overharrowed]

Julius laughs. "I don't think I've ever been in shouting distance of Orlesian before, frankly. The dangers of transferring to Diplomacy, perhaps. But I can sympathize. It was extremely lucky for me that enough people wanted reading or copying done that I didn't starve when I was trying to work out how to earn a few coins."

It's no secret Julius was a Circle mage; certainly not when he dresses in robes most of the time and carries his staff more often than not. He doesn't think it's particularly shocking to reveal he was ill-prepared to support himself outside a Circle when it came to that.