people are strange when you're a stranger

[goodsoldier]

Who: Adam and Jason
What: gambli— hey it's that guy (that other guy)
Where: a den of gentle iniquity in Aspic
When: after fight, but before hanging out with Bruce
Notes: is poker even a thing in Baedal? LET'S PRETEND.
Warnings: boys

By the time Jason shows up in a late night poker game in Aspic, his hair is dark and haphazardly styled, and his eyes are brown and behind thin-rimmed glasses; his clothing is different too. Obviously he's not dressed to head into the ring, but he has the rakish, not-quite-professional attire of a criminal turned businessman or a businessman turned criminal (and isn't the line so hard to see sometimes, anyway). Pissing the wrong people off here is also possible, just less so, and not nearly as worrying. The day he can't kick over a gambling hall and disappear into the night, he should just retire. The whole point of trying to make money by taking it from other people via certain patterns of pieces of cardboard is the avoidance of physical labor, which is not to say there aren't people capable of doing both, or people like him. But then, that's the whole point of scouting a place out before going.

It's not exactly a gambling hall, anyway, more of a dive where cards have taken over a large part of the premises and its income. And while it's not exclusive, there are some signs, some right things to say with which one can indicate they know how this racket goes and they're good for the money. Jason has shown his face twice before to prove he's a good prospect. Tonight he hopes to get to one of the bigger tables and see what happens. Poker isn't just about picking up on tells. No one likes a card counter, but a bit of that is necessary, and it's also the tells he himself gives off. This Jason isn't the easy, confident fighter from the other night, but a demure, almost shy young man with good instincts, yet perhaps, not quite enough experience. Someone more like one of the spectators at the underground fights, one foot in, one foot out. He even looks smaller, somehow — the cut of his clothes and the way he holds himself, by turns nervous-excited and sly, a decent player who is cultivating a warm welcome among one of the table of regulars for his apparent mix of both challenge and manipulability.

Comments

[lazarusrisen]

Adam looks and carries himself much the same as he did at the fights; even if he had the skill to carry off another persona in a different setting his hidden yet all-consuming ego simply wouldn't allow it. He's happy to allow himself to be viewed the same way regardless of the underground game of chance that surrounds him: reasonably well off but not rolling in it, a man who likes to gamble for sport and doesn't mind losing a little here and there in the pursuit of said sport, a man who puts enough care into his bets and play to do the best he can but who is not so attached that he makes a poor loser, a gentleman, very English.

It's fine, it's good, it serves him well. It lets him hide the confidence man and accomplished gambler he was once was, still is in so many ways. And if there's anything immortality has taught him, is that the best games are the long games. He's less concerned with the hands of cards to be dealt tonight; his attention is really on other opportunities to be found and exploited. Who can he expect to win from long-term? Who's an easy mark, who has actual skill, who might try to take his head off for taking all his money?

So at first he's distracted, studying the other players at his table without appearing to. Jason gets by his first glance but ten seconds into once-overing the man to Jason's left Adam stops. Turns. And fixes Jason with a slightly confused look. He could swear he knows that face from somewhere.

"Evening," he says pleasantly, polite half-smile turning his lips though the warmth doesn't quite light his eyes.

[goodsoldier]

As soon as Adam gets within a certain distance of the table, Jason recognizes him, but it's not until Adam joins the game that there's really any potential problem. Jason knows the way Adam is sizing people up, since Jason did it himself earlier. The delayed double-take therefore means either exactly what it looked like, not entirely certain recognition, or that Adam made him earlier and is only letting him know now. It's mildly inconvenient, but not dangerous.

So he grins cheerfully at Adam, as relaxed as he had been at the bar, if much more peppy — like it's all a joke, and clearly Adam is in on it. "And to you."

[lazarusrisen]

Adam considers this for a moment. There's a certain power in being able to reveal someone's impersonation, in being able to betray someone at a disadvantage.

But there's also often benefit in withholding knowledge. It harms Adam none, this charade. And, quite honestly, it amuses him. It's been a while since he came across someone so skilled. Why ruin it now?

"I certainly hope so," he says, inoffensively, as if this conversation is nothing more than a polite exchange of pleasantries. But there's a slight tilt of his head, a brief glance that says I know and I don't care, before he looks to the dealer.

[goodsoldier]

It seems that Adam will play along, at least for now. Jason lowers his eyes as the dealer shuffles, equal parts disingenuous and demure. Their byplay does not entirely escape the other players. A semi-retired con and an amateur part-timer who appear to recognize each other are not desirable players in any card game, but neither of them are recognizable as such yet.

"Friend of yours?" The woman with the ornate cigarette holder inquires. The holder is a playful affectation she uses as a prop for misdirection.

"We were a band together for one night," Jason says blandly, faux-nostalgic. "Post-industrial bagpipe punk."

[lazarusrisen]

"Just the one night," Adam offers, without missing a beat. "And then someone in the audience dared ask our lead singer what she wore under her kilt. The disrespect was shocking, I can't blame her at all for flinging the microphone stand at him. But she went to jail and we simply couldn't carry on without her."

He places a hand briefly on his chest, fingertips over his heart, in mock sorrow, before reaching for the first card dealt to him. The man to his left scowls, giving Adam a thoughtful once-over.

"You don't look like you should be in a band," he accuses.

"Too right. That's why I was the drummer, they stuck me in the back behind the drum kit so I didn't ruin the band's image."

[goodsoldier]

"To be fair," Jason says, drinking from his glass in a lazy fashion, "you'll have to imagine both of us with mullets."

He lifts the cards off the table just enough to check. They're mostly shit and he lets them down thoughtfully, continuing without more than a beat of a pause, "I'm just glad it's not the lead singer. I owe her $50."

[lazarusrisen]

"I'd rather you didn't," Adam says quickly to the lady with the cigarette holder, imagine him with a mullet, please don't, isn't he charming. "Yet another reason the drums suited me, stuck in the back..."

The lady lets out a soft laugh. Adam smiles, faint, returning his attention this cards. His hand's not that great, either, but he lets himself look confident, comfortable.

[goodsoldier]

It's a little tempting to try and play off of Adam's confidence to really mess up the other players' perception of them, but there are a lot of ways for that to go wrong, considering their mutual unfamiliarity, and as much as he's not concerned about having to leave via a window, it's not his preference. Tonight, anyway. Besides, they just established they have some kind of weird recognition, though god knows what the others truly think. Jason folds without ceremony, taking the opportunity to observe the others as he drinks.

"But I thought you did know what was under the kilt?"

"Stop it. Mullets? What, were you in the band when you were twelve?" The xenian with frilled fronds sprouting from behind his ears looks otherwise human, if somehow not quite 'correct', facial proportions off somehow. His objection is caustic but humorous.

[lazarusrisen]

"Sixteen," Adam corrects, full of good humor as he discards a card from his hand and awaits a replacement deal, "but I had an excellent fake ID. And as far as what was under the kilt, well." He laughs softly, studying his new card for a moment, apparently pleased (spoiler: he's not, that just made things worse).

"Even if I did know, I wouldn't tell, that's not gentlemanly conduct."

[goodsoldier]

"He's a gentleman," Jason confirms to the xenian from behind his drink. "I'm not, though."

That was just a general, ambiguously hitting on everyone statement. Eh? Any takers? The lady with the cigarette holder makes a "ffft" as if sort of noise.

"We're playing, here."

[lazarusrisen]

"Some of us more than others, apparently," Adam says, raising the bet [or whatever you do, his typist doesn't know shit about cards okay]. But it's said with good humor; he's amused by the shenanigans, it seems, not angered or annoyed.

They're a good distraction.

The other players, so far, seem willing to see his bet, no one's folding. That's slightly worrisome, but he doesn't let it show in his placid expression.