Post by Deleted on Aug 16, 2013 20:41:16 GMT
—damien
"It's all about your luck, in the end," he muttered to the circle of drinkers that had decided to group around this table for a couple of pitchers with the pianist. Damien was dealing his classic deck. The cards were tattered around the edges, and he was fond of them. Under his heavy eye, lazy hands slid the cards to each person. He talked. He dealt. His eyes escorted the backs of the cards across the table. He scrutinized how each person came to hold their collection.
"It's about knowing what rubs off. You know, anything bad you might touch will follow you around like a demon." Damien Hurst wore black gloves. "So you've got to keep your hands clean. You've got to keep your head clean. The rotten luck sticks. I've seen it ruin a bloke every now and then." He peeled up his five cards from the table, and then pressed them back down. He looked at the faces surrounding the pitcher of beer, this hazy night, away from the gaudy and impersonal of the casino. What a fascinating night. Perhaps the sort to be more for fun than the redistribution of wealth. Still, it was important to ask.
"What are we betting, gentlemen? Pocket change, or real money?"
Note: so for each game we start, I'll list the final hands all characters will get. I used a dice generator, and gave the high rolls good hands and lower rolls losing hands. Poker is half about bluffing and folding though, so it doesn't necessarily mean someone's winning.
First game:
damien: 18 - no pair
martin: 62 - full house
nevada: 54 - three of a kind
angel: 82 - royal flush
—angel
It was funny how things changed. One day you're pulling tricks in the corners these bars; and the next you're wearing an expensive suit and sitting in a circle around a table and a deck of cards.
You're also kind of tipsy.
Angel eyed the cards he'd been dealt, though he didn't pick them up until after he'd stared at their backs intently enough to make them into good cards, if they weren't already.
He stretched, arched his back and linked his manicured fingers before he finally lifted the cards, fanned them out messily. He smiled as he looked over his cards - but then again, he'd been smiling the whole night long.
There was something catlike and hazy - in his gaze as he peered over his cards at the rest of the table. He winked at the dealer.
Cradling the cards against his chest, he leaned over and batted his lashes at Nevada.
"What do you got?"
—nevada
Nevada was unaccustomed to playing card games as most required other people to be present to play them with. He was always intrigued by the concept and was eager to try his hand at it. There were few times he had read up on the various games once seeing them played out on TV. He drank in every bit of information that he could find and every word the dealer said now. It was his first time, after all. He needed to pay attention to every detail.
So far, all that was dressed was the topic of luck and some superstitious tidbit. Nevada eyed the battered cards laid out before him, sliding them up from the table. His eyes took in the array of cards in his hand until Angel’s voice piped up beside him. “I do not believe you are supposed to tell,” said the red clad man with down turned lips. “You should not try to cheat.” He doubted Angel would heed his words though. He wasn’t the type to listen. Did it really matter?
He looked to the dealer, forgetting Angel for a moment. “It does not matter to me.”
OPEN TO ONE MORE
"It's all about your luck, in the end," he muttered to the circle of drinkers that had decided to group around this table for a couple of pitchers with the pianist. Damien was dealing his classic deck. The cards were tattered around the edges, and he was fond of them. Under his heavy eye, lazy hands slid the cards to each person. He talked. He dealt. His eyes escorted the backs of the cards across the table. He scrutinized how each person came to hold their collection.
"It's about knowing what rubs off. You know, anything bad you might touch will follow you around like a demon." Damien Hurst wore black gloves. "So you've got to keep your hands clean. You've got to keep your head clean. The rotten luck sticks. I've seen it ruin a bloke every now and then." He peeled up his five cards from the table, and then pressed them back down. He looked at the faces surrounding the pitcher of beer, this hazy night, away from the gaudy and impersonal of the casino. What a fascinating night. Perhaps the sort to be more for fun than the redistribution of wealth. Still, it was important to ask.
"What are we betting, gentlemen? Pocket change, or real money?"
Note: so for each game we start, I'll list the final hands all characters will get. I used a dice generator, and gave the high rolls good hands and lower rolls losing hands. Poker is half about bluffing and folding though, so it doesn't necessarily mean someone's winning.
First game:
damien: 18 - no pair
martin: 62 - full house
nevada: 54 - three of a kind
angel: 82 - royal flush
—angel
It was funny how things changed. One day you're pulling tricks in the corners these bars; and the next you're wearing an expensive suit and sitting in a circle around a table and a deck of cards.
You're also kind of tipsy.
Angel eyed the cards he'd been dealt, though he didn't pick them up until after he'd stared at their backs intently enough to make them into good cards, if they weren't already.
He stretched, arched his back and linked his manicured fingers before he finally lifted the cards, fanned them out messily. He smiled as he looked over his cards - but then again, he'd been smiling the whole night long.
There was something catlike and hazy - in his gaze as he peered over his cards at the rest of the table. He winked at the dealer.
Cradling the cards against his chest, he leaned over and batted his lashes at Nevada.
"What do you got?"
—nevada
Nevada was unaccustomed to playing card games as most required other people to be present to play them with. He was always intrigued by the concept and was eager to try his hand at it. There were few times he had read up on the various games once seeing them played out on TV. He drank in every bit of information that he could find and every word the dealer said now. It was his first time, after all. He needed to pay attention to every detail.
So far, all that was dressed was the topic of luck and some superstitious tidbit. Nevada eyed the battered cards laid out before him, sliding them up from the table. His eyes took in the array of cards in his hand until Angel’s voice piped up beside him. “I do not believe you are supposed to tell,” said the red clad man with down turned lips. “You should not try to cheat.” He doubted Angel would heed his words though. He wasn’t the type to listen. Did it really matter?
He looked to the dealer, forgetting Angel for a moment. “It does not matter to me.”
OPEN TO ONE MORE
