Down On Skid Row [Closed-ish]

[sulahnan]

WHO: Athessa, Byerly
WHAT: Repairing friendship maybe??
WHEN: a few days after By's backfired apology (pre-Ghislain)
WHERE: Lowtown
NOTES: Drinking and drug use and probably violence, threadjacking negotiable

Lowtown taverns haven't been Athessa's regular haunts for a long while, probably because she tacitly conceded them to Derrica in favor of drifting along the battlements in clouds of smoke and visiting Hightown apartments where the food is arguably much better. But she's here now, leaning against the bar and trying valiantly to get the barkeep's attention. This isn't the one who passes her information for Riftwatch, just an unaffiliated one who has something against elves, or women, or short-arses, or all of the above.

So while she waits, she produces a blunt and lights it on someone else's match just after they light their own cigarette. It's surprising enough for the man that he stares, confused, until the flame burns down to his fingers and he drops the match and stomps it out when it hits the floor.

"Cheers," Athessa says, though he's already ignoring her again, just like the barkeep. She turns and leans her elbows on the bar, scanning the crowd for anyone pretty, handsome, pretty handsome, or pretty interesting.

Comments

[bouchonne]

"Lost, I fear," he answers with a shrug. "Such sacrifices we've made for the good of..." He turns a glance on her. "Riftwatch? Your training? Dear Bastien's pockets?"

[sulahnan]

"All of the above?" She looks back, returning his shrug with one of her own. "How long've we got til the last ferry?"

Meaning: what else can we get up to before then?

[bouchonne]

"Two hours," he replies. "Why, more schemes to be schemed?"

[sulahnan]

"Not really, I just don't fancy going back yet."

[bouchonne]

"Well - " A breath out. "You don't really want to spend the evening drinking, do you?" Then - "Have you ever run a shell game before?"

[sulahnan]

She doesn't want to spend it drinking, that's true. But she's intrigued.

"Never run one, no. Just pickpocketed during."

[bouchonne]

He hums slightly in acknowledgment, already crossing over to the pile of rubbish behind one of the restaurants. A broken crate is overturned to form a makeshift surface; then he sifts through some of the discarded clamshells until he finds three that are reasonably identical.

A little pebble is placed beneath one of the shells; all three are placed on the crate, which Byerly seats himself behind.

"Observe," he says, and lifts the shells to show the one with the pebble. Then, with the deft hand of a true master, he begins spinning and weaving the shells in between one another, forming a dizzying pattern. Finally, he comes to a stop:

"Which one?"

[sulahnan]

Athessa crouches opposite Byerly, watching the pattern carefully. She's not trying as hard as she can, but she's not simply making an arbitrary choice when she points.

"Middle one."

[bouchonne]

The shell is lifted; the pebble is not there.

[sulahnan]

She purses her lips in thought and looks at the other shells, then up at Byerly. Dubious.

"...It's in your hand, innit?"

[bouchonne]

He holds out both hands. Innocently empty.

[sulahnan]

She huffs and makes an obvious show of scanning the empty alley for pickpockets, then shrugs.

"Are you really gonna make me exhaust all options first? Left one."

[bouchonne]

He lifts it. Nothing. And then, for good measure, the last of them; nothing.

[sulahnan]

[sulahnan]

[sulahnan]

"Cor blimey, it's gone."

Sometimes pretending to be unimpressed is what having fun looks like.

[bouchonne]

He purses his lips at her. "Well," he says, "I was going to show you how to do it, but if you're just going to be a shitass, I suppose I'll just take the next ferry back."

[sulahnan]

"Well then I guess I'll just be left to roam the mean streets of Kirkwall alone, unable to run a simple shell game. What if that's all I'd need to know to save myself from the stocks."

Never mind that they don't employ the stocks in Kirkwall, as far as she knows. That's not the point. She plants her hands on her knees as if to lever herself up, surely about to walk forlornly away.

[bouchonne]

He's still a bit too tender, though, it seems, to find amusement in that. His lips thin, and he shrugs, setting the shells aside.

"I hope you've a lovely time of it."

[sulahnan]

"Oh come on, By!"

She doesn't stand, and wobbles slightly because crouching is not a very sustainable position even for one as limber as herself, and she puts the shells back in place.

"Just show me how to do the thing, and then after we can either catch the ferry or not, but you're not getting rid of me that easy," On that not, she reaches forward to tap one finger against his forehead, right between the eyes. "You're stuck with me, chum."

[bouchonne]

He looks at her, rubbing his forehead, miffed by that tap. "You know," he says, "I may look a bit like Bastien, but I'm quite different from him. I don't get pleasure from teaching things or taking proteges or apprentices or whatever it is he's doing with you. If I'm teaching you something, just appreciate it."

[sulahnan]

"You don't look anything alike," she says, but raises her hands in surrender. "I'll appreciate it if you wanna teach me, I promise."

[bouchonne]

"We'll see," he says, but settles back down in front of the crate. "I don't think you're constitutionally capable of keeping your mouth shut for more than half a minute."

[sulahnan]

She scoffs, which of course means having her mouth open, but then she clamps it shut and casts about for something to sit on and finds an old wooden bucket with a crack down the side. Inverted, it makes a perfect seat for her, and she props her chin up in her hands, waiting silently.

And counting. Half a minute should be easy.

[bouchonne]

And then he recovers the pebble from where he'd concealed it, up his sleeve. Then: he repeats the trick, half speed. An arch of his eyebrows is the warning she gets before he does his trick: the pebble tucked almost invisibly into the fold between pinky and ring finger, then dropped into the gap between wrist and sleeve. Then, to complete the trick, he lifts the first shell, then the second - and then flicks the pebble under the third shell as he lifts it up, so that it looks for all intents and purposes as though it had been there all along.