Deputy US Marshal Givens (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tinstar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
singillatim2024-08-04 11:11 am
tinstar) wrote in singillatim2024-08-04 11:11 am
Come one come all, bring your buttons
Who: Raylan and whoever wants to play some cards!!
What: Button Betting Poker
When: Early August
Where: A random house in Milton
Content Warnings: None planned, will update if needed
[OOC NOTE: This will be used as a party style post. Use of an RNG is encouraged to determine win/loss, but if players want their character to lose, it can be worked out between said players. As this is the first instance of Poker night, Raylan has not assigned anyone to any one of the two tables or any of the hands that may happen. Standard poker rules apply, IC conversations can be had about worth comparisons for players with alternate formfactor of betting (IE - if someone wants to bet a singular pearl, the group may determine it is worth 10 buttons).
IC disruptions, (violence, table tossing, screaming, ect) will be responded to by Raylan as a peacekeeper. Cheaters, if found, will be expelled from the poker game and the cabin.
[There's no dinner bell, so this will have to do]
Raylan had posted a note on the Community Board about when he planned on having poker and as the days crept towards it, he kept himself busy making sure that the little cabin he'd chosen for the game night was clean and ready. Two tables stood in the open plan loft bearing house, each with a beaten and weathered deck of cards and five or six mismatched chairs around them, some in better shape than others. What got used would depend on how many people showed up - Raylan wasn't sure they'd get more than one table's worth but if he was wrong, he was prepared for it. A small fireplace was already lit and stoked on the night, bearing a tea kettle on its flattop that was warming some birch bark tea he thought might at least serve as refreshment.
It was a real shame they didn't have any wings or chips or something.
When he figured it was about time, he steps out onto the porch and pulls his gun. A shot is fired in the air and when the echo of the bang fades out, Raylan takes a deep breath and yells booming words out over the cold, drawl significantly more noticeable despite his efforts for it. Those who couldn't hear his voice would have heard the shot and those that could, would at least have some context for what it meant.
What: Button Betting Poker
When: Early August
Where: A random house in Milton
Content Warnings: None planned, will update if needed
[OOC NOTE: This will be used as a party style post. Use of an RNG is encouraged to determine win/loss, but if players want their character to lose, it can be worked out between said players. As this is the first instance of Poker night, Raylan has not assigned anyone to any one of the two tables or any of the hands that may happen. Standard poker rules apply, IC conversations can be had about worth comparisons for players with alternate formfactor of betting (IE - if someone wants to bet a singular pearl, the group may determine it is worth 10 buttons).
IC disruptions, (violence, table tossing, screaming, ect) will be responded to by Raylan as a peacekeeper. Cheaters, if found, will be expelled from the poker game and the cabin.
[There's no dinner bell, so this will have to do]
Raylan had posted a note on the Community Board about when he planned on having poker and as the days crept towards it, he kept himself busy making sure that the little cabin he'd chosen for the game night was clean and ready. Two tables stood in the open plan loft bearing house, each with a beaten and weathered deck of cards and five or six mismatched chairs around them, some in better shape than others. What got used would depend on how many people showed up - Raylan wasn't sure they'd get more than one table's worth but if he was wrong, he was prepared for it. A small fireplace was already lit and stoked on the night, bearing a tea kettle on its flattop that was warming some birch bark tea he thought might at least serve as refreshment.
It was a real shame they didn't have any wings or chips or something.
When he figured it was about time, he steps out onto the porch and pulls his gun. A shot is fired in the air and when the echo of the bang fades out, Raylan takes a deep breath and yells booming words out over the cold, drawl significantly more noticeable despite his efforts for it. Those who couldn't hear his voice would have heard the shot and those that could, would at least have some context for what it meant.
"Y'ALL WANNA PLAY SOME POKER?"
no subject
"That mean I can plan on testin' that skill? Lucky enough to find a few packs of card, people enough for a whole table. Maybe you could teach us all a thing or two." Personally, he didn't think he'd learn anything but what March himself was about. Which was at least half the fun of the game.
no subject
"Yeah, sure." A beat.
"You aren't, like, a world famous poker player or anything, are you?"
no subject
no subject
A beat.
"I could also figure it out. I'm a detective, you know. Pretty fuckin' good one." So there.
no subject
"Well we ain't got much entertainment here, you'll forgive me encouragin' that kind work." Sorry March, he was bored and this was too much fun. "How would you do it? How would you start?"
no subject
"Cop, first. Fired. Downsizing, you know how it is, no-fault divorce law kinda fucked us over. Started a PI business, never looked back. Pretty fuckin' fun. You wanna see?"
no subject
"Yeah, I know how it is - and sure. Not a lotta mysteries we can solve here though, so I'm always happy to see what you got."
no subject
"Pretty cool, right? Professional."
no subject
It danced on the line of amusement. Modern marketing would blow this guy's mind. Local Car commercials where some half balding guy talks about sales sales sales in front of a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man.
"Very professional. Nice art. First one? You get a lotta scratch outta this ad?" It looked very 70's - no hippy dippy font, no radical 80's flavor. He wasn't willing to bet on it though.
no subject
"I made it," he boats. "Even if that guy--" a motion to his partner "--looks a bit Puerto Rican. Nothing wrong with that, he's just not Puerto Rican." He flashes a grin.
"Wound up here before it really took off. Hoping to come back to more than just the usual bullshit, you know? Something big. A real mystery. Something I can sink my teeth into."
no subject
"So you're in it for the mystery solvin', huh Shaggy? How far your teeth got sank into the one here? This Darkwalker mess, to say nothin' of us showin' up in this frozen hellscape to begin with. What's your gut tellin' ya?"
no subject
"A huge part of me thinks we're all dead and this place is just fucking with us."
no subject
"No. Nah, I ain't dead. I'd remember gettin' shot or gettin' in an accident. And if we were dead, maybe somethin' to comfort you in that thought, we wouldn't be cold or need to eat or sleep. We're still feelin' things, regardless of if we want to or not. That's gotta mean somethin', right?"
no subject
He pauses.
"...You seen president Nixon at any point?"
no subject
"What's Nixon got to do with anythin'? Where I'm from he's dead some twenty years."
no subject
"You know how sometimes you see things before you die?"
no subject
What an odd choice for a brain. It wasn't March's fault of course, Raylan knew brains did their own thing and they were all just the meat puppets that had to deal with it, but Nixon was still an odd choice.