[open]

[katabasis]

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.

Comments

[innerharbor]

"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.

"Hey, lady, what's your job?"

[unshut]

"You mean other than moderating this debate?"

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?"

[muckspout]

Edgard strides in and plunks down at an empty chair at the table.

"Heard there was a card game. Am I late?" He then notices Barrow. "Don't even think about it." He grumps.

[thereneverwas]

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.

[heorte]

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.

[innerharbor]

Still smiling. "It's not a debate."

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.

[unshut]

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.

[thereneverwas]

"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.