singillatim | Luck rarely finds coal miners

Entry tags:

Luck rarely finds coal miners - except in cards

Who: Raylan and about town | + Zoey and Fraser
What: ON THE HUNT FOR BODIES WHO ARE INTERESTED IN POKER - also gettin' his doggo and through the mine
When: Front half of July
Where: Milton, Milton mines, everything on the way and Lakeside

Content Warnings: Applicable content warnings go here.

You gotta know when to hold 'em - Milton - OTA

Raylan was out on a mission - Finding enough willing bodies to make up a good table of poker. He had talked to enough people to make up a very short list of people that might be to play poker. 'Might be' wasn't 'would' and even if it was, that very short list did not equal out to a full table. A full table was at least half of the fun of the game. He starts with the Community Hall, writing out a message and pinning it almost proudly to the board. Solid message, he thought, before looking around. It was never too soon to start the recruiting effort.

It wasn't just the hall, Raylan had no issue openly approaching people on the Streets he'd never spoken to before with as polite a- "Hey, excuse me. Raylan Givens," he'll introduce to those he hasn't met, "Yeah, can I ask you somethin' real quick?"

But it wasn't just poker that interested him. There was no dropping the conversation if someone answered his incoming questions with 'No, I don't play poker and I have no interest in learning'; he was interested in the folks that made up the community, both the people that spoke up at the town meeting trial thing and those that hadn't said anything at all. Like he hadn't said anything, expressed nothing beyond a disappointed shake of his head before exiting to avoid the rush of bodies going out. The verdicts that had come down were taken with heavily mixed result, and he couldn't help but prepare himself for the worse case scenario.

Sixteen tons, what do you get? - Closed to Zoey

The mine has been something Raylan has been working up towards since he found out it was here. The sprawling maw of darkness that sat quiet and idle in front of the un-hatted man taunted him with the memories he'd been trying to ignore, the collapse that he and Boyd had narrowly survived, the fires, the gases, the lack of oxygen, the goddamned dust - There was more to worry about in a mine than taking a poorly planned step and falling three hundred feet to your death.

That was several of a larger handful of reasons that Raylan wanted someone who'd traversed them before to guide him through. He had asked Zoey, feeling it was it's own kind of right that the lady who found him out in the middle of the cold and got him to safety would be the same luck charm of knowledge to get them through the mountain. They'd agreed to meet at the mines, and Raylan's knapsack was heavy with a few skins of water, some food, a rope and candle, flintstone and rock, and a knife on the opposite hip of his gun. He'd never been a boyscout but he packed like one. Raylan didn't have much of any kind of faith or close held superstitions, and he didn't fear much of anything. Not guns, not red-headed women or lawyers.

But mines were different. He was glad she had agreed so graciously and without any mocking jabs at his internally categorized weakness. He could have managed it alone, but he knew that madness lived under the ground as much as minerals and his resolve to 'just the facts ma'am' in this painfully specific scenario was faulty. Something about being Downstairs made him twitchy.

Who doesn't love the possibility of a man and his dog - Open around Lakeside and part closed to Fraser

Lakeside was a balm of its own sort after getting through the mine and over that damned bridge. He'd arrived with Zoey, resting at the mining cap and stopping long enough at the lake side itself to marvel at the inland body of water. At least they weren't there to fish, but there was no mistaking that there was something in the water. Raylan imagined this is what fjords must feel like. Still, the option of fishing gave him hope. Food, when his stomach still pinched a little with hunger. Maybe it connected with a river. Maybe there were salmon..

Closed to Fraser

Word of mouth had passed around the fact that new life had, in fact, come to Lakeside. It was an important thing to hear for Raylan, primarily because it proved that the animals could successfully spawn here. That nothing had gotten in the way of that part of the cycle of life, the one that was going to keep them in food, however scant.

Word of mouth had also passed along where Raylan could find the Mountie, though he was polite enough to just ask after the man by his name, but it's plenty enough to send Raylan up towards Fraser's cabin. He wished that he had something to bring, you were never supposed to arrive empty handed and on a whim, pulls out his last two cans of food. If he was going to be asking for something, he would make the nutritional sacrifice. Missing his hat desperately, Raylan knocks on Fraser's door and steps back.

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"Hey," he replies with a lift of his chin, ambling closer. "I've got all my limbs and I suppose that's enough. Glad to be gettin' any kind of sleep, gladder to not be seein' and hearin' shit that ain't there anymore. What about you? Still got all the marbles you started with?"

“Most of ‘em.” Yeah she’d gotten up to a lot of shit, but she hadn't been caught for a lot of it and she only feels bad about certain bits so it's fine. “Did you tell Lalo Salamanca where I live?”

Only illegal if you get caught. His brow furrows slightly at the question as he tries to gauge her mood about it.

"Not specifically." Technically. "He brought you up, I mentioned you were neighbor of sorts. Why? Thought y'all were friends."

Chloe smiles a little. That guy really has been talking about her around town, huh.

“Did he say that?”

"He did." If he wanted her to answer his questions, he felt it was fair to answer hers. "Is it true? Or have I made a terrible mistake." By his tone, he has doubts he's made any mistake.

The very first time they'd met, she’d been stealing food from Lalo’s house and he’d held her at gunpoint. “I don't know if that's the right word, but it's fine. I know he can be charming.”

"'Fine' Tells me it's close enough." He couldn't stop the creep of smile across his face. "I let out a big secret? You'll still have to give him some credit, he did have to figure out which house was yours. So there was some work."

“I like my space.” This might be a surprise considering Billy’s recent visit, Lestat coming and going from there all the time, and Louis’s meltdown on her front step, but she means it. “He was so fucking smug that he found me too, ugh. He said you've got a poker thing going on.”

"Well if he's moved in and you need help evictin' him, I'm glad to help out." Otherwise, he didn't see a problem here; if Chloe was slightly annoyed by her friend knowing where she lived, chances were it was healthy for her. That's always how it went.

"I do. You play? I'm still lookin' for people who're interested. We get more than one tableful and all sorts of folks can have fun."

It may be healthy for her but that doesn't mean she has to like it!

“I do. You concerned at all about getting a bunch of people who hate each other under one roof?”

"Nah, not really. Anyone decides to show their ass, I'm happy to offer them an extra hole in it if they don't wanna leave. I've dealt with people who hate each other all the time at home, what's their business is their business, we're just here to play poker."

His tone stayed light and matter of fact, like he was talking about the color of the sky. He was deeply familiar and comfortable with violence as the last resort for desperate and sad men.

"Though I would like to know if there's anyone that you hate so that we can minimize the possibility of conflict. I know people got their reasons."

Chloe shrugs. “No one I'd care enough to kick out as long as there are other people in the room.”

There are lots of people here she wouldn't want to be alone with, but she doesn't think any of them would beat on a woman in public.

So she didn't like being alone in rooms with people. Raylan was glad he'd met her so far under open sky.

"That changes, you let me know me, we'll shuffle people around. I've been a bouncer before and I'm fine with doin' it again." There would be zero woman beating in his presence. He'd seen enough of that already.

"That mean I can count on you considerin' comin' by? I figure I'll put a note up on the board and learn to whistle real loud or somethin' - waste a bullet or two."

“I think if people don't want to see me, you're gonna know.” She’s always been a bit of a polarizing figure.

“Sure, I guess. You should get one of those big bells like farms have in the movies.”

"I ain't worried about them not wantin' to see you."

Only the other way around. He'd handle it otherwise. Raylan trusted women more than men, though that wasn't to say that the trust ran too terribly deep, but he knew and understood the amount of shit that strong women took at the hands of insecure and bullish men. He didn't treat anyone like they were china either - too many strong headed women who raised him would come back to beat his ass in his dreams if he did.

"Or a big ass triangle. Doubt I'll find either, but I'll be lookin' none the less. Best get to button huntin'. Primary coinage right now."

Chloe shrugs. “Okay.” If he thinks he can keep the peace she's not going to dispute it.

“Buttons, huh? I’ll keep an eye out.” Another reason to get back to scavenging.

"I'll be puttin' a note in the Community Hall, for what good it'll do. Otherwise, you'll hear me doin' my best cattle call to let as many people know as my voice'll carry. Considerin' how quiet this place is, I imagine it isn't hard. Open to ya, anytime you like."

“Yeah, I think the only other real event around here is Eddie’s concerts. Those might drown you out.”

She doesn't even really live that close and she hears them.

“Thanks for the invite, though. I know that things are weird.”

With her standing up for Hickey, she means.

"Concerts?" There was no mistaking him perking up a little, a sharp interest coming into his eyes. "I was hopin' someone here played somethin'. I heard someone had a fiddle? What kinda concerts?"

Not taking thanks well generally, Raylan was happy to wholly ignore the thanks or the reassurance about how not weird it was. You grow up around blood debts in places where you gotta exist and live with your enemies and get along sometimes, and this shit is easy.

“Yeah, that kid Kate’s got a violin I think, and there's a piano at town hall. Not that kind of concert, though. Eddie plays metal.”

A lot of people complain about it but Chloe’s used to noisy city nights and it makes her feel less lonely.

“Only does it on aurora nights, obviously, but it's quite a thing.”

He can't help but laugh out a breath, honestly enthused to hear it.

"Metal, really. Like.. Metallica or Slipknot?" Yes, he was a country boy. That didn't mean that his musical tastes were confined to that. He branched out as often as he could and, having been raised in the 80's, knew a thing or two about listening to metal.

"Metallica for sure." Chloe's really only familiar with the entry-level stuff despite having also been a kid in the 80s. When all that was big she'd been in her Riot Grrl phase. "There was a three-day aurora right after I got here and he played Master of Puppets every day."

"Damn. Well then, I look forward to it. And things ain't weird," he assures, calling back to something she'd said a few moments ago.

"At least no weirder than us all bein' here. I can't do anythin' other than take it in stride - we still gotta live with one another."

"Good to hear." She might sound flippant, but it is a relief to hear. The last thing she needs is trouble from a cop who lives on her street. "Wish everyone felt that way."

"Ah, give 'em a few months, a couple fist fights to figure it out, they'll settle into it. Or we'll be diggin' a fresh grave-" Which he didn't sound particularly bothered about either way. If people wanted to be stupid and show their ass and get themselves killed, well, they should have made better choices. He didn't waste much time thinking about those kinds of people.

"And the problem will sort itself."

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