WHO: Fitcher + Wysteria + Flint & You WHAT: Catch-all WHEN: Firstfall-ish WHERE: Kirkwall and stuff. NOTES: Will update if necessary. Feel free to grab me if you want a specific starter/wildcard me, baby.
There's a momentary tightening in Ellis' shoulders at the invocation of Edgard, before he either decides he doesn't find the joke funny or doesn't care for the reference full stop. Regardless, he shuffles his cards into one hand as he considers Fitcher's question.
"I am fairly sure it was the Ambassador. It could not have been Bastien, as I believe that night he was rehearsing some new piece of music across the room from your table."
And it seems about Byerly Rutyer's luck, even in Ellis' limited experience of the man.
In answer, Fitcher slides a series of coins into the pot in the middle of the table to begin the game. "Poor man," may be an assessment of Edgard or Byerly or both.
And then, as the round of play begins to progress around the table - or, you know, however Wicked Grace is supposed to work -, she turns her attention on Amos. As far as looks meant to put people on the spot goes, this one is perfectly pleasant.
"You must tell us, serah. How are you finding Kirkwall?"
Amos' response is a thin copy, a smile that doesn't reach his open eyes, wide with an amiability that may seem forced, or perhaps just empty. "Not so great if you sell people."
"I'm a curious guy," Amos says, and the emotion is still blandly pleasant, but there's something that could be genuine, if sarcasm can be called that. "You bet money. There's slavers in your back yard. Selling people jokes. I get it. Everybody's gotta live."
He lays a card down, humming over that a moment, as though distracted before the same banal intensity returns.
Barrow's smile is oddly fixed, like he's afraid that if he lets it slip at all, he will betray something terrible to the entire table and also himself, so he'd better just keep smiling and avoid the awkwardness.
Then Edgard arrives, and he gives him a stilted nod.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he says quickly, holding up his hands, and then looks to Amos as they await his answer.
Ellis sighs quietly. In lieu of greeting or further contribution, he drops a few coins into the center of the table before picking up another card, because Wicked Grace surely involves such an action.
With an Ooh of support for Square Jaw as Ellis' new name, Fitcher makes a tiny motion toward Edgard in greeting before laying out and drawing a series of cards et cetera et cetera. Presumably more money is pushed into the pot.
"Combat training," Barrow answers cheerfully, glad the conversation has moved on from slavery or lack thereof. He calls the bet, tossing in a few coins.
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"I am fairly sure it was the Ambassador. It could not have been Bastien, as I believe that night he was rehearsing some new piece of music across the room from your table."
And it seems about Byerly Rutyer's luck, even in Ellis' limited experience of the man.
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And then, as the round of play begins to progress around the table - or, you know, however Wicked Grace is supposed to work -, she turns her attention on Amos. As far as looks meant to put people on the spot goes, this one is perfectly pleasant.
"You must tell us, serah. How are you finding Kirkwall?"
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The explanation is more complex than that, but Ellis addresses the immediate implication: Riftwatch does not trade slaves.
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He lays down two more cards, building what advantage he has.
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Barrow is briefly too shocked to laugh, but then does anyway, looking at least as mortified as he probably should.
"Edgard's a friend," he assures Amos as he lays his own cards, "just having a laugh, I promise."
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"Perhaps you'd prefer to ask us questions instead?"
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He lays a card down, humming over that a moment, as though distracted before the same banal intensity returns.
"Hey, lady, what's your job?"
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She looks up from her cards only afterward, her smile slow over the fan of cardstock.
"I'm a clerk in Riftwatch's scouting division. One who prefers 'Fitcher' to 'lady' unless you mean to use them in combination. What's yours?"
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"Heard there was a card game. Am I late?" He then notices Barrow. "Don't even think about it." He grumps.
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Then Edgard arrives, and he gives him a stilted nod.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he says quickly, holding up his hands, and then looks to Amos as they await his answer.
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He lays a few more cards down. "That's a pretty sweet job, Lady Fitcher." A little salute as he says it. Yes, Sir, I am playing by the rules.
"What's everybody else's job? Besides Square Jaw over here; I know him." He points to Ellis.
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