Then they'll take you to Cloughprior and shove you in the ground (Mingle)

[notinflictthem]

CHARACTERS: Hawkeye and the Veteran’s Poker Club
DATE: March
LOCATION: Hawkeye’s clinic
SITUATION: Poker game (for veterans)
WARNINGS: Presumably discussion of conflict and ptsd

You need one more drop of poison and you'll dream of foreign lands

A notice goes up on the board, and Hawkeye sets up the clinic for the occasion. Obviously he’s not moving all his medical supplies out- at the back of his mind is always the possibility that something could happen that demands he put his doctor hat on again. Not choppers, but something.

But he sets up a table and chairs in the middle of the main room, with a stack of cards and some ‘chips’ (acorns, he went out and gathered some acorns, which he’s painted different colours). There’s a flask of his homemade gin, some finger food from the Oak and Iron, and he got a box of cigars for the occasion. Feels just like the conferences from home, only without sandwiches that move and Frank. So, y’know, infinitely better.

Prior to starting, while Hawkeye’s setting up, he’ll engage in some small talk with anyone who shows up early- which, they’ll all be military, it will probably be all of them.
“Ever played poker?”

Or

“Can I get you a drink?”

Or

“Can you grab that tray of implements for me?”

At the sick bed of Cuchulainn we'll kneel and say a prayer

When everyone who’s arriving arrives, Hawk sets himself at the table, one of his surgical lights over top of the table to set the mood.

“Alright- this is poker, it’s a little game we like to play back on earth, because we like losing money. I’m gonna teach you five card draw, just to get us started. I’m going to deal each of you five cards. What you’re looking for is to have the highest hand at the end of the round, then you take the pot. Easy. Hands are ranked by how hard they are to do- if you get numbered cards in order and they’re all the same suit, that’s a straight flush. Then we go four of a kind, which is just that- four of the same number. Full house is if you have three of the same number and a pair of a different numbers in the same hand. Flush is if you have all your cards in the same suit. Then straight, which is by number order but not the same suit, three of a kind, two pair, one pair, and then if you have absolutely nothing we score it by your highest card.”

Hawkeye clears his throat, takes a sip of gin.

“I'll deal to start with, we all bet based on our hands and how confident we are that we’ll have the highest ranking hand, then we discard any cards we want and redraw back up to five. Then we place our final bets, and reveal our hands. You get lost at any point, just ask. Questions?”

And the ghosts are rattling at the door and the devil's in the chair

Shittalking, chewing the fat, commiseration, and general socializing with Hawkeye during games goes under this header. Tls for your characters welcome in the comments.

Comments

[decohere]

"Mnhm, that one," Ava confirms happily. Although referring to him as MI6 gets dangerously close to another name that he doesn't like known or used... Ava isn't sure if she should draw attention to that. Let's it go for the moment.

She giggles at the shot at his Britishness, because he is quite so. "Despite my accent, I was actually born in Argentina. And then... ah. Taken in by the Americans, yes." The wording is deliberately neutral. "Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. US based but... meddling in global affairs, as typical."

Her tone indicates she doesn't feel very highly of them.

[theydrewfirstblood]

John nods, needing no further explanation--if anyone knows what it's like to resent the military you work for, it's him. So instead...

"Argentina...habla espanol?" he asks curiously.

[decohere]

"Yes, though not as well as I used to," Ava admits in careful Spanish, slow from disuse.

"The last world I was trapped in... everything automatically translated to English. It took considerable deliberate effort to say anything in another language. But I know a few, at least the basics. Espionage is always big on that, when assigning missions in other countries."

[theydrewfirstblood]

"Well, if you ever wanna practice--grew up in Arizona. We can keep each other fluent." John offers. "I'm also fluent in Vietnamese, semi-fluent in Thai--know a few words in Khmer and French, too."

His smile turns rueful.

"Not espionage here, but I did a few tours in 'Nam, and I pick up languages pretty damn well. When I was younger, uh--I liked talking to people a lot, y'know?"

Younger, and of course, more innocent. Less damaged...less lonely.

[decohere]

It's not that Ava has anything close to a busy schedule, she tries to keep a more fluid one based entirely on her fluctuating energy levels. And social plans particularly are difficult for her to quite make commitments to, knowing she's just as likely to have to back out. She's let so many friendships fizzle out, left so many loved ones hurt because of her inability to carry through.

But here she's not constantly running on fumes, right? She wants to say yes, because this is what she wants. Wants to be able to spend more time with people that she can feel safe around, get to know them. Not having all the ship's politics hanging over her.

She wants to be honest though, before she sets herself up for any expectations she won't be able to meet. "I'd like that... if you'd want to come out to the farm. But. I can't ever guarantee in advance my good days from my bad ones," she tells him softly. Because the mention of Vietnam, everything she's heard about the traumatized soldiers coming out of it... with so little support. She imagines John might have a bit of the same.

"I preferred to read as a kid, myself. It's hard to really remember the person I was before everything. But that hasn't changed much."

[theydrewfirstblood]

Good days versus bad days...that hits home in a way that makes it hard to breathe for a second.

Not her. It's something in his gut and his head, chanting that softly, a rhythm that makes him hurt, makes him feel kind of sick. She's just...

"Rambo!...you not expendable."

He forces himself to breathe, to inhale, exhale...then nods with a small smile.

"I get that. Good 'n bad days...and I'm cool with that if you let me do one thing for you." he replies softly, willing his voice not to shake and not sure if he's succeeding. "You ever have a bad day, but...you can't be alone, and you can't--interact? Be social, do stuff? Promise me you'll call and tell me. I'll come over...and I'll bring a book for each of us. You won't be alone, and you don't have to do stuff. Promise me that, and I'll take what I can get 'n be cool with it."

Cw talk of terminal illness

[decohere]

There's a moment where she wants to reach out in comfort, but keeps her hands occupied by fidgeting at the worn hem of her linen blouse. Lets him work through it... and lets out her own breath in relief.

"I... it'd be nice to have... some company in the garden." She's trying to get a small one established around the cottage, simple herbs and such. Something easy to keep herself busy instead of laying in bed miserable.

"But I..." Ava swallows, doesn't want to downplay the severity of the situation. "I'm dying. So my company might not be great." She doesn't want to be alone through it, and of course she has 6 around too. But it's not quick and easy, the way she'd prefer. Slow and agonizing as the days become harder to get through. Ava looks down. She knows it's a very heavy burden to inflict on somebody else, having to watch her slowly deteriorate without hope of saving her. He deserves a chance to back out.