[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

b.

[ketterdamn]

[ It's gotten too loud inside, the raucous laughter reminding him less of the Crow Club and simply becoming a ringing in his ears. Here, he doesn't have the luxury of going upstairs to escape. Instead, it's a bit of a walk to his quarters, though he isn't in a particular rush. Too much restless energy; he's been too directionless and rudderless. Having to start from the bottom up– well, he doesn't shirk hard work, but it's still a lot to take in and adjust to.

So he takes his time going back to his room, cane tapping out a less aggressive rhythm than usual. He pauses at the form of someone sitting upon the steps, gauging if they're wide enough to fit down without tripping. ]

Perhaps for some. [ He glances back to the building where plenty of people have lost more than their pocket change tonight. ]

[unshut]

[From behind the swirl of pipesmoke, the woman with her dark hair and dark eyes and her long hands smiles. It's the sort of curving expression which predates a coy statement like 'Yes, well--' which requires no real end but suggests a half dozen. Instead, after a beat in which the smile makes the statement for her, Fitcher sighs and removes the pale wooden pipe from between her teeth.]

The nature of the beast, I'm afraid. If we were all winners, it wouldn't make for much of a game now would it? [This, characterized by the exhalation of smoke tinged with something both like cherry wood and mintly medicinal.] Remind me; what was your name? I think I was otherwise occupied when introductions occured.

[ketterdamn]

[ He thinks maybe the smile will be her answer. After all, it's clearly communicated, even in the dim lighting. She elaborates though, and he doesn't see reason to shrug the words off. ]

The distraction of the game is more the point, I would guess. [ Maybe some are playing for the money, but with the chaos, there's an air of companionship and distraction. ] Kaz; you are?