[OPEN MINGLE] Veterans Poker Night

[ownperson]

Who: Agent South Dakota (ownperson) & Agent North Dakota (gooddefense) and you!
What: Card game social night for ex-soldiers/veterans and similar types!
When: Mid-late April
Where: 487 Juniper Street / North Star Farm, in Northwest Hollow
Warning(s): Alcohol use probably, war/conflict talk likely, others TBA as necessary



The notice goes up on the community board a few days in advance, and from there South figures word of mouth will do the rest. These nights were apparently already a thing, once upon a time, so she doesn't feel the need to make a huge fuss—ex-soldiers and people who fit close enough all welcome to a game night to have some fun, just bring your own booze. Simple as that.

(It's her idea, ultimately. More for her brother's sake than anyone else's, but if other people could use the social time, too, then maybe this will do people some good. Whatever. She doesn't expect much.)

The interior of the Katina farmhouse is a simple space. Step inside to an open space, with an archway to the kitchen off to your left and the living room off to your right. They've pulled an extra table out of somewhere to stuff next to the usual dining table, make more space, but there's a secondary games table set up in the living room too so a couple types of game can be played at the same time. Cards are set out ready, or if you've got a special set for your own game or whatever just bring it with you.

Alcohol really is bring your own, and anyone turning up dry-handed hoping otherwise will have to get by on whatever anyone else brings. What there is is a variety of snacks, mostly made by North. There's a range of cookies that look like absolute shit, but taste absolutely amazing if you take the chance on them; bowls of cashews; plates of little sandwiches; and some homemade cheesy bread. You're free to eat what you like, and drink as much of your own alcohol as you like—just, y'know, behave, don't get obnoxious, whatever, she's not your mom. Even cheating is whatever until you get too obvious about it, there isn't big money in this or anything.

Come in, play some games, talk to some like-minded people. They're not checking cards at the door, if your experience is anything like that of a soldier, you're welcome.

(Also, those who know about him needn't worry about the resident 13-year-old ex-AI, he's over at his other Aunt's house having a sleepover. It's very cute.)

Comments

Agent South Dakota | RvB

[ownperson]

Even though she mostly set this up, South isn't really the hosting type. Sure, she'll try and greet people as she notices them, but for the most part she's just sitting at one of the tables, playing whatever card game's on deck at the moment and shooting the shit with whoever's playing with her. (She's half-decent at poker, though other things can be a crapshoot depending—and, well, look, maybe she used to cheat at almost every game the Freelancer's played, most of them did, but she's trying to resist the urge now.)

She doesn't touch a drop of any alcohol that comes into the house, which is... well, maybe after a while she starts regretting not just saying no booze in the house outright, but they're fucking soldiers. Tell most of them they can't drink and they won't turn up—she'd know, it's how she used to be. So, she just... keeps reminding herself North is right there and clings to her self-restraint by the skin of her teeth, trying to always keep a person's buffer between her and any open bottle.

The brusque, overconfident mask is firmly in place, tonight—loud, and talkative, and happy to banter, anything that keeps her from showing how much she's vibrating under the surface. (About the alcohol, about getting this whole thing right, about if North's actually benefitting from this at all, about how Theta and Haley are doing, about—)

And if she needs a moment in the kitchen under the cover of refreshing her own, non-alcoholic, drink, or to step out onto the back porch for fresh air, then what of it?

[lovethyneighb_or]

When she steps onto the back porch, one of the only other people here who hasn't touched a drop is already sat on the steps—and already standing up, brushing off her clothes.

"I'm sorry." Deferential, quiet. "I didn't mean to... I'll let you have a moment."

South is the host and she's the guest, after all. Francis makes for the door.

[ownperson]

On the inside, South can't help but curse at herself a little for not noticing someone went out here. On the outside, she throws her hands up and says:

"Hey, no, you're, like, fine. Seriously. Not like there's not enough space. I'll only be a fuckin' minute anyway, probably."

That's too optimistic of her, but it's the intention, whether she keeps to it or not.

outside, on the porch

[amourtician]

Sometime mid-evening, with the din of half-overheard conversations ringing in his ears and his head starting to spin from the effort of keeping his social mask up, Anzu slips out to the porch to smoke. He spots South just as he closes the door behind him — though he's tempted to retreat and let her have her space, the door is creaking shut and then what if she thinks he's dodging her?

An absurd, adolescent thought, as he judges it, but a disquieting one nonetheless. He clears his throat, instead.

"I'm perfectly capable of smoking in silence, darling," he says. "So if thou wish'st, pretend I am not here."

[ownperson]

South jumps just slightly—somehow, she really didn't expect anyone else to need a break from... all that. Once upon a time she wouldn't have needed this, she'd be in there just drinking away, easing into the atmosphere and ignoring any itch to leave, because that's not what you do.

But today she just... yeah.

Absurdly, all she can think to actually say is: "...you smoke?"

[amourtician]

Anzu raises an eyebrow.

"Like a damn chimney, darling," he says, surprised. "Do I not sound it?"

He approaches South, pulling his cigarette case out of his pocket, and holds it aloft.

"And thou? I'm happy to share, and I shan't judge thee. However much thou partakes, Leybah almost certainly partakes more."

The initial shock of finding someone else out here is wearing off. In the dark and quiet, in the fresh air, he can handle one other person's company just fine. Especially if he's got a good excuse to look anywhere but his interlocutor's face as they talk.

[ownperson]

"I dunno, man, you're a doctor, guess I just. Figured." Stupid, probably, like medics in the military didn't need vices just as much as the rest of them. Maybe more, given some of the shit they saw.

She eyes the case for a second, chewing her tongue. It's probably a bad thing she's been bumming smokes off people (mostly Capo) these last few months after she quit years ago, but frankly, compared to the struggle she's having inside...

"...yeah, sure, if you're offering. Might take the edge off."

[lovethyneighb_or]

A soft and knowing, but well-meaning huff. "It'll be longer than that. We're veterans. Don't cut your time short on my behalf."

She returns to the back steps, carefully easing a tired body down, though she sits straighter than she had been before.

After a while: "Thank you for putting this together, by the way. It's been a while."

[ownperson]

South huffs what might pass for a laugh—touché—then leans against the railing, a little ways down. Closer than leaning back against the wall, but not too close. Takes the moment of quiet just to breathe the fresh air, away from the taste of the alcohol floating around the room. (It would be so easy to...)

The thanks startles her, just a touch. "Oh, uh, yeah, don't mention it. Heard about these things when we first got here, just, y'know, not had a moment. And after everything.."

She bites her tongue. Shrugs.

"Figured people might like it." It's the truth, even if really, the main person she cares about is her brother.

[lovethyneighb_or]

"I think they do."

She looks out into the murky dark of the grass and the trees. She can hear the bugs out there. Living things, with not a care for men or war.

"This sort of thing was a rather popular pastime back in my unit. Actually, these poker nights were started by my buddy. Er. Well. This is just to say—yes, these usually work rather well, after a... a day like that."

Her voice tapers off towards the end. Too many words, far too many.

[ownperson]

"Yeah. Day like that."

She worries her lip between her teeth, picks at some wood-grain in the railing where she leans. She does like it out here. Sometimes she gets to just... sit on the back porch and watch North and Theta do their thing, and that's nice. Feels like they're really home. It's an odd feeling she doesn't always know what to do with.

"We did 'em in my unit too. Less alcohol, though not for lack of trying. Just harder to smuggle supplies onto a fuckin' starship. We made it work." For a while. Until everything started falling apart, anyway.

Bastion | Overwatch

[configuration_birdwatcher]

The first time they attended a veterans' night they spooked someone who seemed like he needed the social outlet more than they did, so Bastion hasn't been to a lot of these. But there's a new host and a new location, and Gaeta's more accustomed to them now; they're hopeful that there have been enough changes that they'll be able to participate this time.

They've brought a box of dominoes. New ones, purchased from a shop in town. They came with instructions for a few different games; Bastion sets the tiles out on the secondary table, so that they don't get in the way of the card games the gathering is named after, and reads through those. There's a gambling option, but the poker table is right there. One where the objective is to construct a long string of dominoes and run out of tiles first, and one for collecting certain types of tiles. Or they could use the dominoes to construct a small structure. They don't know which to try first.

Bastion can't eat any of the refreshments, but out of curiosity they're taking a look at the food anyhow. The little sandwiches are particularly aesthetically pleasing. Maybe you've caught them hovering over those.

[lovethyneighb_or]

She hums, nods. "I can imagine. We were on Earth. There was a ramshackle little bar and a homemade still where we made paint stripper and called it gin—we could get away with a little more, being a hospital unit." Another tired pause. "If I didn't become an alcoholic then, I certainly could now."

[ownperson]

"Fuckin'— christ, even we didn't get that desperate," she says, almost more of a mumble and yet loud enough to hear. "Not that we could've, really, but. Whatever. Think I was already basically a fuckin' alcoholic by then anyway."

A beat. Didn't really mean to just say it like that.

[lovethyneighb_or]

If it phases Francis, it doesn't show, at least. It's certainly not a surprise.

"We had a temporary commander try to ban alcohol, once. You can imagine how well that went over. He'd even had me deliver a sermon on the dangers of drinking and made it mandatory for the whole camp." A sidelong glance up at her. "I showed up drunk."

Her words suggest a humorous kind of story, and it is, but her tone never quite lifts away from subdued.

Felix Gaeta | Battlestar Galactica

[not_a_traitor]

Considering Gaeta purposefully antagonized one of the hosts (though he will insist forever South started it by trying to punch him in the frakking face), then pissed off the other one by acting like an asshole to his son, he was... well. A little hesitant to make the trek for poker night, to put it mildly. But Francis will be coming along, too, and it's been ages since the last time anyone stood up a game. He's missed it.

Like past game nights, his contribution to the liquor pile is a bottle of ambrosia, courtesy of a trade with Captain Dominguez. "It's tradition," he'll say with a wry smile whenever he shares it around. He sticks to cards for the most part; with some regularity, he also steps outside to smoke, if you'd like to catch him in a quieter moment.

And though his poker face is fair-to-middling, anyone playing against him might find they're running out of money pretty fast. You can't even blame the Web for this one -- half the Triad games on Galactica involved at least one Viper pilot yelling at Gaeta for counting cards while he sat there, the picture of smug serenity, and insisted counting cards was a perfectly acceptable tool that anyone could pick up once they learned the proper math. Lieutenant Gaeta does not cheat. He strategizes.

(But maybe he also takes a peek at the Web's strands here and there to figure out what cards he ought to play. Just a couple times.)

[xiaoxiuya]

Bring your own booze, is it? Shen Qingqiu can do that. He shows up to the party with a few melon-sized jars casually hanging from a rope he holds in one hand, sealed with paper lids and a thick string. When he opens the first one in North's kitchen, it fills the air with a flowery yet spicy scent, as if the clear liquor was infused with flowers from the capsicum plant. "Try it," he says, pouring a fingers-width into a glass and offering it to North. "It's baiju, wine made from fermented and distilled sorghum. It's really good!" he declares.

Later he can be fond playing cards and chatting with the rest, bright and friendly and sweating bullets on the inside. Hopefully nobody asks him what he's actually doing here, but the honest answer is 'hanging out with North and their other friends.' Sure, he's done some fighting here and there, but that's hardly counts as being a veteran...right?