Geez, you're a whole bubbling-hot pot'a mess. What's your encore?
[ should've just lied and said you were in a fight, man, that's what cool guys do. in spite of his wry tone, the ribbing's at least all in good fun. maybe recent times have helped him see a difference between antagonistic (derogatory) and antagonistic (it's a charm point). or maybe it's the extra-strong drink, the atmosphere, something outside of his control? who's to say.
at any rate, it's his turn again and the picks are getting more and more precarious. going for the cards on top is the easiest answer, if not the cheapest. Fidelio falls silent for a few moments, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. picking off the top over and over won't leave him with any escape route if the game starts getting dicey; better to take the risk early, when he's still feeling relatively confident.
right in the middle it is, then. unconsciously, the tip of his tongue pokes between his teeth as he goes in for the two-finger grab again, palm flat, easy now, right between the tips of his little claws, and— several of the cards on top tumble down, but the remainder of the structure stays intact. the ref says it's not a loss, and Del almost forgets about the question on the card while he's grinning about his momentary victory. everything's great until a bystander reminds him. he flips the card over...
and there goes his face again. beet red. this time he places it on the table face-down. nope. ]
This is rigged. Why am I getting all the stupid ones?! You know somethin' I don't, don't you ye fuckin' weapon—you're cheating, pickin' all the easy questions. I ain't answering that!
[ Then you lose! ]
And who asked you, meff? I said I'd play a card game, didn't say nothing about getting humiliated in front of some binno that broke his face with a damn bottle.
no subject
[ should've just lied and said you were in a fight, man, that's what cool guys do. in spite of his wry tone, the ribbing's at least all in good fun. maybe recent times have helped him see a difference between antagonistic (derogatory) and antagonistic (it's a charm point). or maybe it's the extra-strong drink, the atmosphere, something outside of his control? who's to say.
at any rate, it's his turn again and the picks are getting more and more precarious. going for the cards on top is the easiest answer, if not the cheapest. Fidelio falls silent for a few moments, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. picking off the top over and over won't leave him with any escape route if the game starts getting dicey; better to take the risk early, when he's still feeling relatively confident.
right in the middle it is, then. unconsciously, the tip of his tongue pokes between his teeth as he goes in for the two-finger grab again, palm flat, easy now, right between the tips of his little claws, and— several of the cards on top tumble down, but the remainder of the structure stays intact. the ref says it's not a loss, and Del almost forgets about the question on the card while he's grinning about his momentary victory. everything's great until a bystander reminds him. he flips the card over...
and there goes his face again. beet red. this time he places it on the table face-down. nope. ]
This is rigged. Why am I getting all the stupid ones?! You know somethin' I don't, don't you ye fuckin' weapon—you're cheating, pickin' all the easy questions. I ain't answering that!
[ Then you lose! ]
And who asked you, meff? I said I'd play a card game, didn't say nothing about getting humiliated in front of some binno that broke his face with a damn bottle.