2549/A Grifting We Will Go

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A Grifting We Will Go
Date of Scene: 22 September 2017
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Karen Page, Booster Gold, Hoodlum, Ghost Spider




Karen Page has posed:
Two pitchers of Long Island ice tea later. One medium pizza. More exasperation on the women's parts as more than once Booster put his foot into it, with no help from SKEETS in making matters better.. and yet, somehow at the end of it all, nobody throttled him to death, the club was shutting down, and nobody really wanted to go home yet.rrIt was Karen who had the bright idea that they teach Booster to shoot pool. "I know a place," she told them all. "I think it's open late enough. And if we're lucky, we can maybe make a few bucks." She grinned at Booster as she said that, "Don't worry, it's a fine upstanding tradition in New York."

It was Karen who had the bright idea that they teach Booster to shoot pool. "I know a place," she told them all. "I think it's open late enough. And if we're lucky, we can maybe make a few bucks." She grinned at Booster as she said that, "Don't worry, it's a fine upstanding tradition in New York."

As luck would have it, Josie's was still open, though it wasn't Josie behind the bar. Just a middle-aged man who looked like he'd brook no nonsense, who sized them all up, them in their fancy club clothes, and gave them all *the Look*.

Karen grins, "No worries. Just here for wings and beer. Medium. Keep the pitchers coming - it's on his tab." She makes Booster hold up his credit card. "And uh.. sode and grenadine for our designated driver." Clarine's dignity upheld. That being said, she stakes them out a table at the back of the half-empty bar, and throws a bill down on the side of the pool table to reserve it against the winner of the current game.

Booster Gold has posed:
Booster hands over his credit card, and the bartender examines it.

"You're Ted?"

"Yep, that's me," Booster confirms, grinning wide. "Ted Kord."

"Okay! So you guys should know, I am /really/ good at pool," Booster says, slapping his hands together and rubbing them briskly as he walks over to the table. He gives it a flat look, walking around in a circle.

"Where's the on switch?" he inquires, looking around. He picks up a pool cue and twirls it around awkwardly, looking upwards. "And I don't see any holo projectors... is this one broken?" he says, moving his hand through the air over the table as if trying to activate some machinery. "Man, I /always/ get the defective one," he mutters.

Hoodlum has posed:
"Are we..." She whispers to Karen, a moment later,"... are we selling Mr. Gold's bod- Oooo, you meant hustling pool. You said New York tradition so I was conf- I'ma be quiet now." She blushes a little bit, then takes a look at the table as she lifts a finger when she is pointed out as the designated driver. "I REALLY appreciate it. Um... wow. My uncle used to play this all the time. He taught me the order to put the balls in and how to line up the stick-thingy with the lead white ball." It's weird though. Memories flash through her head again. Of people she never was, with people she never met. Smokey back rooms. Pool halls. A gun goes off. Pain in her gut. Laughter. A sharp sensation at the back of her neck. She closes her eyes, clenching them shut as she forces the welter of memories down. Then she looks up, smiling. She leans over to murmur to Karen, in a softer voice,"He's terrible. Lose this one, and the next. Bet him double-or-nothing on the third. We'll clean up."

Her tone is completely different from her usual self. Like listening to a whole other person speak. "Boos- Ted can totes have the first round. He's, like, a professional and everything." The girl nods to the current players emphatically. Then she clairifes,"Ted! You have to use the stick-thingies. The balls are REAL. Like, with mass and weight and everything. Use your abs!" Booster. Their secret weapon.

Ghost Spider has posed:
    Gwen drank at least as much as anyone else and this seems to have relaxed her sucessfully. If nothing else, Booster is now her good friend instead of a putz with an indiscriminate autographing problem. She's a lot pinker than she she was a few hours before, but she hasn't staggered one, if anyone else is sober enough to notice.
    "No, you dork." the blonde says as Booster tries to figure out the table. "Take that triangle thing and put it on the table so the top point is on that dot, then fill the thingy with the balls. They'll be in those pockets in the table. Careful, though. Sometimes in this neighborhood people put giant death scorpions in these tables as a special thrill. It could be in any of the holes."

Karen Page has posed:
Karen gives the current owners of the table an apologetic shrug. "What can I say, they wanted to play pool. I told them you guys didn't dick around, but nobody would listen to me." She tells the tall man who seems most likely to hold the table into the next round. "Whatever, just let them play against you. Look, he'll even buy you and your friends a round."

Two men over at a table to the other side of the pool table calls out, "Let the loser buy us a round, not like we're gonna lose the effing table." Their friend, the tall man gives Karen a shrug as if to say, 'your money, your loss', and she smiles sweetly at him before turning to Booster and the girls.

"Easy peasy. I have a couple more bills in my pocket. Boo-er.. Ted. Here." She presses her last five into his hand. Her other bill is a twenty. "Put it on the table next to mine. Tells them you want to play the winner of the table. I'll let you take my table now. Tall guy is gonna win. Short and fat playing against him can't line them up for shit. Just be yourself, and Clarine is gonna take your loss when tall guy wins again."

She gestures to the others to sereptitiously pool their money against the big bet.

Booster Gold has posed:
Booster looks a little taken aback once he figures out what to do. He doesn't buy Gwen's crack about scorpions one bit-- it's hard to take her seriously with her collarbone and sternum inked up and the tip of her nose turning cherry red.

"You mean this is TWO-DIMENSIONAL?" Booster gawks. "What the-- you're kidding me, right?!" he demands. "I thought pool-- er, tri-D pool-- was invented by now!"

He sighs. "No wonder there wasn't an antigrav inductor."

Booster does a sloppy job racking the triangle. It takes him a few tries to get it off the pile without undoing his work.

Booster follows suite and does as he's told, and (graciously) is tricked into breaking his lousy rack. Booster frowns, trying to figure out how to operate the cue, and manages to hit the cue ball fairly straight on, barely managing to loosen the rack up.

"Aww, geeze, this is boring," he mutters. "There aren't even any gravitraps on the board!"

Karen Page has posed:
The tall man smirks as he watches Booster, their 'pro', make a right mess of the break. "Tough luck, man. Shame they didn't have brains in your century, too, huh?" His cronies at the table laugh at their friend's joke, and enjoy the beer Booster has paid for. "Show 'em how it's done, Franco!"

Hoodlum has posed:
"There's no death scorpions. Don't worry, Ted. Everyone knows it's totally safe. The games these days are usually over well before the hypos in the cue inject the combat stims, and there's only, like, a one in twenty chance a given ball is going to explode when you make contact anyway. And no worries about hurting bystanders if they do blow up. That's what the attenuator field is for." Sci-fi nerd is nerdy with her pranks. She's already picking out a cue, checking for weight. Clarine watches Franco sink three straight solids. And follows it up by sinking a single solid herself, thus HELPING the other team. She pumps her fists in the air,"I got a thingy in!" She knows she's doing badly. Seriously.

Ghost Spider has posed:
    Gwen holds up her hands. "Ihope you all don't expect me to play. I hit things with little sticks, not with pool cues." she says with a laugh. "But I'm sure you all will do great."

Karen Page has posed:
There's a wince from Karen as Clarine takes up the cue and sinks one of the opponent's balls. "You might not want to help Ted so much, Clari," she calls over quietly.

Franco smirks. He's brought his beer over to sit on the edge of the table, prompting the bartender to cough loudly and remind, "No drinks near the felt, Franco. Two strikes you're out. That's one." - Apparently Josie runs a tight ship.

Franco removes his mug with an under the breath mutter and a sneer the bartender can't see. "No matter," he says in unpleasant tones, even though he smiles at the group that Karen brought in. "this game isn't going to last much longer." He pretends to yawn, and calls his next shot, making it with lazy ease.

"Whadda'ya say boys? Make it easy or hard on them, huh?" His friends call out, "Ah, hells, Franco, hard. We ain't done our beers, and besides, don't see no other takers."

Which was true. Nobody else was putting cash down on the table. Just the sad crumpled five Karen had pulled from her clutch.

Franco calls a shot, and doesn't even look as he makes it. Missing, obviously. Leaving the cue ball in a crap position for Booster to pick up the slack from.

"Oh, did I do that?" The man smiles at Ted. "My bad. But you're a professional. You'll be fine." He goes to his table and sucks back his beer, leaning in to say something to his friends that has them all laughing.

Hoodlum has posed:
Clarine fishes in her pockets and finds a few crumpled twenties and throws them down,"I raise you forty!" Does... Does she know how betting on pool even works? Still, she watches Booster muddle through his turn, even winking slyly to Karen,"I got this! Coming around from behind! I'm like the karate kid! The race is almost over, and then he runs even faster to win!" Does... does she know movies, for that matter? She IS just hustling, right? She's... kidding about being th is terrible, right? "Gwen, tell us about hitting things with sticks! I didn't know you were into softball!"

Hoodlum has posed:
Clarine fishes in her pockets and finds a few crumpled twenties and throws them down,"I raise you forty!" Does... Does she know how betting on pool even works? Still, she watches Booster muddle through his turn, even winking slyly to Karen,"I got this! Coming around from behind! I'm like the karate kid! The race is almost over, and then he runs even faster to win!" Does... does she know movies, for that matter? She IS just hustling, right? She's... kidding about being th is terrible, right? "Gwen, tell us about hitting things with sticks! I didn't know you were into softball!"

Karen Page has posed:
Karen rubs her temples as Franco grins. "Tell you what, little lady. Since you seem to be the one with the money, how about we just put it all together and spare your friend there.." He juts his chin at Booster. "..the agony of defeat."

Karen has no clue at this point if Clarine is a ringer or not. It's really that hard to tell with the girl. Still, at their table, between her bill, and Clarine's couple, and anything Booster and Gwen add to the pile, they gather up a small pile of assorted bills. Franco and his compatriots match the piddly amount Karen and co have managed to put together.

Karen leans in to Clarine, "You sure you know what you're doing?"

Ghost Spider has posed:
    "Gwen stands on one foot, tucking the other behind the first knee, making her look a little like a master from a bad wuxia movie or a demented crane. "I played a little softball, but no... I'm a drummer. I'm going to Julliard." she says proudly. "Someday I'll have a band too, but I have to get enough money to buy some new drums and then find some people to play with."

Karen Page has posed:
Franco's friends make small violin motions with their thumbs and forefingers. "Don't forget to make them cry, Franco." He smirks at them. "Gonnna take the blonde one's tuition money." To which one of his friends snorts, "Do you even know what tuition money means, Franco?" They all laugh.

Franco turns to Clarine. "So, what's it gonna be, Elevator? You and me finish this?"

Hoodlum has posed:
Clarine looks at Karen with an all-to-distant look on her face, not at all like herself, and murmurs in return to her,"Not even a little bit. But someone does." Not exactly a reassuring answer. It's odd the change. In the end, Clarine merely surrenders herself to stolen instincts. Never really played this game much. Never needed to. Not really. Still, she smiles at Franco and Friends... And leans over the table. She sights along her stick, balanced on the back of her thumb, leaning low, and strikes the cue.

It ricochet's around the table, sinking two stripes in an unusually oddly angled combo. Blackboards, slide-rules, and arcane equations flicker behind her eyes. Kristoff, the geometry expert.

The cue lands in a bad position, the only shot left to her is a risky rebound. But she knows the probability if she hits it just so... Courtesy of Marco, the Gambler.

Rashid, the saloon rat curls his way through her fingers as she picks up another ball with a sharp *CRACK* of the cue.

Cortez, the poolshark is the one that lines up towards the eight ball, for her, as she sinks shot, after shot, after shot,"Don't call me Elevator, Short-stuff. Look, to show there's no hard feelings, you call the hole for me."

That line right there is no pool player. It's Marquez the Murderer. Playing with his prey. His wolf-like grin on her lips. Those dead eyes behind her normally warm gaze. "Go ahead. But be quick. Gwen's got drum classes and she needs time to pick out her new set."

Karen Page has posed:
Franco looks unhappy. More than uhappy. He looks about to blow a gasket. There are three ways he could call that last shot, and just looking at him, you know it's not going to be the first two. But before he does, he leans on the end of the table and hisses at Clarine, "Tell you what, Elevator." He says the word slowly. Savouring every single moment of disdain he puts into it, knowing that it's going to piss her off. And he's counting on that. He's not quite sure how he got had here, but she can't really be that good.. And even if she is, he knows people. Piss them off enough, and even the best will foul up. That's his game.

"Tell you what, Elevator, you make this last shot, and I'll double what we've got down. But you gotta make as called. You miss, and I take your money, and I get to kiss the redhead."

Karen blinks as she realizes just who the redhead in question is. "Uh.." It's a helpless look she gives Clarine, as much as if to say, you mess this up, I'm not going to forgive you. That, and she looks a little repulsed by the thought of Franco. More than a litte, even.

That, too, makes Franco smile a dirty little smile, betraying the line of smoke-yellowed teeth in his mouth. "So, Elevator, we got a deal?"

Karen leans in to Gwen and whispers, "Juliard, huh? Think she's got it?"

Hoodlum has posed:
    Marquez. The man who should've killed her. One moment of weakness. That's all it takes. Marquez had his pride. His method of extracting his toll was not fiery displays of vengeance and righteous anger. No. His pride was so indomitable, that he would calmly, patiently extract his due. His happily murderous gaze lies behind those eyes.

Clarine? She's entirely too fallible when it comes to this sort of blatant emotional manipulation and brow-beating. Indeed, her own character is... was once that of a character. And with Marquez's temper buried in her memories... Marquez scared her.

The Kurgan scared her more. The Kurgan which still walked the earth. An immortal who had three thousand years of objective memories, and tens of thousands of possible subjective years from all the heads he'd collected. He was out there, alive. And he would come for her. And suddenly, none of it seemed all that important.

She looks tired. The bluster, the anger, it melts from her shoulders. And like that, he's not facing individuals with disparate skills. It's Clarine. With all those memories, all those skills. At the same time. She leans over, and with almost no preparation, anti-climactically makes the shot, rebounding again and again and improbably sinking the eight ball as called. She reaches out for the wad of cash, and looks at Franco, his dirty teeth.

"You're so small. You spent your whole life making a petty kingdom and this is all it added up to." She lays a single twenty down on the table,"Cab fare." She looks at Karen with a sort of melancholy look.

"Can we go? I'm... not very good company right now."

Karen Page has posed:
Franco is a tremble of rage by the time it's evident that 8-ball is going to sink. He almost - almost - makes a move for the pile of money on the table, but something about the look of Karen, and co, stop him. He's not sure what, but it probably saved him getting his ass handed to him in the end.

"Effing ringers," He spits out. "Take your cash." His fingers tightening about the pool cue in his hands, the wood of it threatening to break beneath the pressure he's exerting upon it.

Over at the bar, the bartender just shakes his head and smiles, "Oh, give me a reason, Franco. I'll ban the lot of you. Put the cue down and walk away. You got beat at your own game."

That, too, doesn't make Franco any happier. And when the group gets up, Karen makes certain to go last in line, pausing while the others make their way towards the door. Her fingers curl around the twenty that Clarine had left behind for cab fare, and she gives the man a dead on stare, daring him to say anything about it. "Hey, Franco, you can consider this your kiss."

"Why you little b -" he hisses the word at her.

"Free advice for you, Franco." Karen smiles sweetly. "Never get involved in a land war in Asia." He probably won't get the reference, but she does. And that's all that matters.

And with that, she, too, leaves.