ArchivedLogs:Hustling Chess

Hustling Chess
Dramatis Personae Lucien, Micah, Doug, Emma, Matt	26 August 2014 Chess, ice cream, jobs, and power failures.
Location <NYC> Tompkins Square Park - East Village
Small but popular, this tree-lined park is a perfect centerpiece to the eclectic neighborhood it resides in. Home to a number of playgrounds and courts from handball to basketball, it also houses a dog park and chess tables, providing excellent space for people watching -- especially during its frequent and often eccentric festivals, from Wigstock to its yearly Allen Ginsberg tribute Howl festival. Evening has come on pleasant and clear, a faint breeze cooling the slightly humid dusk. The park is not actually dark yet -- admittedly with its plethora of lamps it wouldn't be even late into the night -- but the light is fading enough that over by the chess tables someone has switched a flashlight app open on their phone to illuminate the current game. At the table, Matt is facing off against an older gentleman, scruffy grey beard and scruffy grey hair and a contrastingly neat button-down and slacks. Matt is casual, jean shorts and blue tee reading 'Best Time Machine EVER' around a little cartoon figure tucked amid an archway of books. He's been playing black, and, judging by the collection of white pieces amassed by the side of the board, playing it exceptionally /well/. The game moves quickly, timer out and being swatted rapidly between each move. Nearby, Lucien is looking also more put-together than his brother, blue button-down and pale linen trousers. One arm is crossed over his chest; in his other hand there is an ice-cream cone, some pale green flavor scooped into it. His eyes fix on the game with a lazy sort of interest, tongue intermittently swiping at the melty-dripping edges of the ice cream. Micah is having a bit of a slow amble to reach the tables, hands half tucked into the pockets of his bluejeans. An olive newsboy cap remains perched on his head, testament that he headed out /before/ the light had faded quite so throughly. He wears a blue Doctor Hooves Nouveau T-shirt with matching I <3<3 the Doctor socks tucked into his well-worn sneakers. His first temptation on approach is to hug Matt, though he checks this as, well...timed chess is happening. He waves without spoken greeting to avoid interrupting. Lucien bears the brunt of the hugging...though it is more of a half-wrap of one arm behind the other man's back to pat at the opposite shoulder before dropping again. "Hi, hon. How's it goin'?" That could mean how Luci is, or Matt, or the chess game, honestly. Maybe all of the above. It's actually a bit early for Doug to be out and around, these days. Between work and school and the clinic, there's generally full-on darkness (such as New York gets) before he's heading home. Even now, he's utilizing wheels to speed him along. Dressed in jeans and a yellow athletic t-shirt with the Reading Rainbow logo on the chest, the blonde is scooting along quite briskly atop a new-looking skateboard with the Superman logo on the kick. He's got his laptop bag and a backpack, so balance is a challenge, but he's making it all right. Spotting Lucien and Micah on the bench, and Matt just beyond, he frowns lightly, and angles his body so that his board drifts that way, lifting a hand as he rolls up and stops himself with a foot. "Hey, guys." Emma has chosen breezy layers to both combat the summer heat and ward off air conditioning from her office. She's dressed in a translucent blouse, a loose bow draping from the bottom of her neckline, a white camisole underneath. A white pencil skirt wraps her thighs and spotless Louboutin slingback pumps grace her feet, their trademark red soles peeking out on the inside of the heels. She has a light weight jacket thrown over one arm and a clutch dangles from one wrist. She's studying the glowing face of her own cellphone, a click of her tongue proceeding a flick of her thumb over the screen. She tucks the device into her purse and pauses to look around, gaze drawn by the sharper glow of technology over a chessboard, a small smirk tugs at her lips at the sight. Her attention draws in more of the surroundings and she pauses her walk when her attention falls on Lucien. More than fifty feet away, she stays a little out of conversational range for the time being, retrieving her phone to text this time. It's a quick message to Lucien. 'Nice night for ice cream.' It's reflexive, really, the faint ripple of tension through Lucien's shoulders at this affection. Rather than return the hug, he offers up his ice cream cone for Micah's judgement. Matcha flavoured, very rich. "Mmn." He would probably give a /proper/ greeting to Micah /and/ Doug but instead he is interrupted by the buzz of his phone, leaving his ice cream in Micah's care as he slips out of his pocket. A very small smile pulls at his lips, text answered quickly: 'I felt much the same. It's like you read my mind.' Matt, on the other hand, is far more cheerful, far more effusive in his greetings. Even with Micah's reluctance to interrupt he looks up sharply -- at Doug rather than Micah, admittedly; it comes with a shiver along the previously focused surface of his mind, a tugging /ping/ that twinges again when Emma draws near. "Oh -- hey, hi, /hey/." His smile is equally warm for Micah and Doug both though with Doug it comes with a niggling uncertainty like he can't /quite/ place the other man. "Hey it's," here he is derailed to move a rook, capture a knight, punch the timer, "good this is totally my new job." His green eyes shift back to Doug. "Hi. You're --" "Lofts. Game Night." Lucien supplies identification for his brother's addled memory as he slips his phone back away. "/Oh/ my bad hey /Doug/ forgive me I kind of died and came back, it's bad for the memory." Having neatly avoided the entire zombiepocalypse in the... relative safety of a Prometheus lab, he makes statements like this without even a hint of discomfort. Micah does back off rather quickly, as always careful not to initiate skin contact with Lucien without clear permission to do so. "That good, huh?" he teases at Lucien's lack-of-greeting plus delivery of ice cream. His fingers curl carefully around the cone for the transfer, the quick taste he takes widening his eyes with surprise at the matcha flavour. He'd been expecting...pistachio, mint maybe. It is a pleasant enough surprise. He steals another lick before moving in for one-armed Matt hugs now that it at least isn't the other man's turn at the board for a moment. "Hi, sugar. S'always good t'see you." That same arm waves a hand in Doug's direction once he rights himself. "Hey, Doug. Ohgosh, yeah, we were entirely too long without a Matt. Think we can forgive a little memory lapse here an' there after all that." He holds the ice cream down in range for Matt to sample if he wishes. Assuredly Luci meant to share it around... Doug looks a little confused at the confusion, looking at the other three men with a furrow to his brow. He's pretty sure Matt wasn't exploded, but his weary brain isn't coming up with an alternative, and he colors with a guilty duck of his head. "Yeah. That's been going around." It probably sounds as lame as it feels, so he tries again, chuckling a bit hollowly. "Glad to see you got better." The Python reference is a bit more confident, and he flashes a cautious smile at Matt. "Is there a lot of money in hustling chess?" he wonders. "Maybe I should rethink my retirement plan." Emma keeps her cell handy as she slips onto a park bench and observes mentally for the time being. 'Ah, I'm afraid this chicken came before the egg. Your ice cream is inspiring me to seek frozen delights.' She crosses her ankles as she glances over at the chess game once more, her eyes focused briefly on Matt - studying the shuddering mind with a single raised eyebrow. She looks over at Lucien's cone, busily being passed around and texts once more. 'Am I observing an illicit ice cream party and should move on elsewhere?' "C'mon, you really think Luci would stoop to ice cream that /wasn't/ That Good?" Matt leans into the hug without taking his eyes off the game, making his next move and then licking off a slurp of ice cream. He grins broadly at Doug, looking down as his opponent takes a knight. His bishop swoops in to answer, his next tap of the timer more delicate, almost expectant. /Definitely/ expectant, actually; after a pause the other man tips over his king with a grumble and slaps a twenty into Matt's outstretched hand. "Good enough money if you've /got/ hustle," Matt tells Doug even as he's leaning over to shake his opponent's hand. "Ten dollars says he doesn't." Lucien has a small twitch at the corner of his mouth as his ice cream is passed around. 'It is practically an orgy out here. That cone gets around. You could join in the decadence. The shop is new, right on the southwest corner of the park.' And then: 'I highly recommend the lavender if you are feeling scandalous.' Matt, meanwhile, is pocketing his money, resetting his timer with a small lift of brows. "What /is/ your current retirement plan?" "I know for a fact he's occasionally been found gettin' hot dogs at street vendors, so I can never be a hundred percent sure what t'expect. Ain't all fancy /all/ the time." The grinning look Micah turns back at Lucien is fondly teasing. He steps back once Matt has had his ice cream, not wanting to be /literally/ in the way of the next chess move. A light clap of a hand on Matt's shoulder is the only congratulations for the win he offers, considering the person he just won against is still right there. "You runnin' this hustle?" he asks Lucien playfully after the next wager is made, returning to hold the other man's own cone out in offering to him. See, he brought this delicious food all the way over here! How thoughtful. "I don't think I've ever seen Lucien /not/ fancy," Doug says, giving the older blonde a sidelong look that's crinkled around the corners. "He exudes it." There's a bit of admiration for that under the teasing that's unhidden in Doug's voice, but it dissipates as Matt wins the game, blurring into an approving noise. The unlucky opponent gets a sympathetic look, and then Doug's lifting his shoulder at the siblings and Micah. "I can give it a try," he says, jutting out his lower lip as he considers. "I mean, I've only played against a computer, and Matt clearly kicks major ass at it." He narrows one eye, and shrugs again. "But I'm game. So to speak." The question about his retirement gets a lift of his eyebrows. "Mine? It changes daily, depending on my mood, at this point. Most of them involve computers and A.I., and eventually becoming a billionaire." Doug grins, and shrugs his backpack from his shoulder. "What's yours?" 'Mmmm. Lavender, really?' And with that, the white wrapped figure on the park bench near by gets to her feet and turns in the direction of the southwest corner of the park. She disappears into the store, if anyone is watching. "Are you accusing me of hustling?" Lucien reclaims his ice cream with an amused huff. "Luci is so past his days of scamming on street corners for twenties," Matt answers lightly, smiling bright when Doug takes up the challenge. "Black or white?" "Black gets draw odds," Lucien explains helpfully, "but white gets five minutes rather than four on the timer. -- mmn, hustling for twenties /is/ more my brother's class of game than mine." "He's saying I'm the /cheap/ whore," Matt laments -- /his/ eyes briefly follow Emma away though his brother's do not. "Being a billionaire definitely sounds like the way to retire. My current plan is mooch off Luci till he loses his looks. Then I guess my chess habit will have to support us." "He is not the best at plans." Lucien informs the others of this over another mouthful of ice cream. "Instigatin', perhaps, if that sounds nicer?" Micah's grin isn't going anywhere, except perhaps more /lopsided/, as Luci takes his ice cream back. "Pfft. He keeps me around. /That's/ pretty un-fancy." How he manages to make this sound like more teasing at Lucien than himself is open for speculation. "I dunno. That could be a pretty decent plan, provided y'let 'im keep moochin'. Seems like he's got quite a /lot/ of time there t'come up with additional plans, given the parameters he laid out." Somewhere in the midst of all this he picks up a light dusting of pink on his cheeks. It's also open for speculation just which bit of his own commentary that came from. "Lucien is never going to lose his looks," he says, nodding at Matt's retirement plan. "He's going to be one of those guys who just ages into one of those silver foxes who barely looks any older." To his credit, he manages this without the same pinkening as Micah gets. His ends in good old-fashioned red blooming along his neck and ears, followed by an awkward moment of silence, and piece-shuffling. "So, uh, I think you're set." "I'm flattered you all have such faith. /I'm/ working on my retirement plan, though. Whores and athletes have very brief shelf lives." Lucien admittedly doesn't sound overly concerned about this fact, though he /does/ sound more regretful with the addition: "Blondes do not grey so elegantly." "That's why they invented hair dye." Matt finishes setting up his side of the board, putting the timer back in place and tipping his hand out to Doug in invitation to take the first move. "Seriously though this whole not-dying thing is kinda inconvenient? Now I need to actually get a job." "Life is very difficult," Lucien agrees somberly. "Did you know, /both/ these gentlemen have jobs. Have had them some while. I am uncertain if that will make them more or less sympathetic to your dire plight." "Nah, if you're lucky it just goes /white/. Seen enough blondes that y'don't even notice their colour's changin' an' then suddenly it goes plain comic book white." Micah shrugs a little at Matt's suggestion. "Also there's the dye thing." It takes him half a second to parse Matt's shift from /dye/ to /die/, a few extra blinks tossed in meanwhile. "Ohgosh, honey. S'an inconvenience I think we all can live with. What sorta work y'interested in?" Doug's first move is pretty quick and decisive, his fingers closing on a knight's pawn and sliding it forward two squares. "Matt just said he was staying until you lost your looks," he reminds Lucien. "Not until you stopped working. I was just pointing out that it would probably be a long time before that happens." He grins, and reaches to punch the timer. "You're not wrong about the blonde thing, though. Mine's so blonde I'm not sure it'll do anything except get that weird baby fineness that blonde hair seems to get." He reaches up, raking fingers through his hair to tug at it and peer up as if he might see it. Micah's question for Matt gets a lift of his eyebrows, and he tips his head as his study switches to the other young man. "I bet something with books," he guesses, grinning lopsidedly. "Right?" "You flatter me still." Lucien's lips have curled up in amusement, his voice dropped to a lower murmur. Matt is just as quick with his move, shifting a pawn as well and batting the timer before making 'gimme' fingers towards Lucien's ice cream. "My only work experience has all kinda been, uh, on my back." "Hardly. Some of it was on your knees." Lucien is obliging with his ice cream despite the snark. "The question was what interests you, not what you are skilled in. If you haven't noticed, much of the world is incompetent in their chosen fields. You need not break the curve on that." Matt wrinkles his nose, taking a mouthful of ice cream but not dignifying this with answer. He does answer the others, though: "I used to really want to be a teacher. Maybe I still do. That's -- pretty book-y, kinda, yeah." A faint blush dusts /his/ cheeks, now. "Kinda lend yourself t'that happenin' easy," Micah replies to Luci's murmur, smile and blush still going strong. Not that so-helpful Lucien doesn't make the blush far worse with his snarky additions. "D'you know what ages or subjects y'might wanna be teachin'? I mean, s'what m'momma does full time. Music, for elementary school kids. An' Jax teaches over the kids' school. I guess I kinda do a little bit sometimes, too." Clearly he's not counting himself amongst the ranks of Teachers for his practical classes here and there. "But there's more folks there as teach full-time an' all. Sure there's plenty of people'd be willin' t'advise at ya if y'want." "You deserve honest flattery," Doug says to Lucien, watching Matt as he moves his piece. "Unmotivated by monetary investiture, or desire of same." He has a toothy grin for the other man before he turns back to the board. His fingers twitch betwixt knight and bishop before he abandons those and moves another pawn -- from his left rook -- onto the field. Then he smacks the timer lightly. "Teaching's cool," he says, nodding at Matt. "The world could use more good teachers in it. I bet you'd be good at it." "Middle school," Matt answers promptly, even as Lucien gives a faint grimace at this thought. His follow-up of, "Books," is clarified while he moves a knight forward and taps the timer with: "English." "There are many things I might deserve," Lucien's faintly distant expression, faintly wry tone, puts this in quiet self-deprecation rather than vanity, "but the world often fails to deliver. My thanks." He swipes languidly at another melting trail of ice cream and passes the cone back to Micah though his eyes linger on Doug. "How is your path to billionaire-hood coming along, anyway?" "Hm. Might could be y'should set up some chats with the kids' school librarian. She /also/ teaches English classes. Can't get much more 'round books than that. An' she's real friendly, b'sides. Mallory Winthrop? I ain't sure if you've been 'round the school often enough to've met 'er or not." Micah claims the wandering cone for another few licks. His free hand wanders to pet gently at Lucien's back at his discussion of what might be deserving. He holds on to the cone for a bit, though attentive to those who might wish to have a bit delivered to them or to take it for a time wholesale. "English is good," Doug says. "Literature particularly." His bishop moves out into play, and he slaps the timer. "My grandmother is a librarian in California," he says. "She gave me a healthy love of reading, although I'll admit to doing most of it on my Kindle." He rolls his shoulder, and offers Lucien a small, sad sort of smile. "That's the perversity of the universe," he says. "It's quick to dole out the bad stuff we've got coming, and takes forever to pay out on the good." He sighs, and rests an elbow on the table, leaning forward a bit heavily. "Slow," he answers the question. "Particularly more so than usual. But it's all forward progress, so I can't complain /too/ much, I guess." Matt shakes his head at Mallory's name. "Barely ever been out there. But I'll keep her in mind." He slides a bishop forward too to quietly claim Doug's pawn. "Perhaps you are right." Lucien slides his eyes away from Doug, up to the sky. He leans back ever so faintly into the hand Micah rests on him. "The world never seems short on calamity -- though lately I have been reaping," here his smile is just a bit warmer, eyes only moving to his brother for the briefest of moments, "more than my share of the good." "Can you just become a billionaire by proxy? Working fit for Tony Stark shouldn't /hurt/ -- why," Matt adds with a puzzled frown, "more than usual?" “She's hard t'miss if y'ever do end up over that way for Desi or whatever. She has gorgeous horns.” Micah's hand sweeps in a curl back from his temple to illustrate, kind of taking the ice cream cone along for that ride. “S'usually some stuff workin' t'tip at both sides of the scale at any given time.” His other hand presses in a little more firmly at Lucien's lean, fingers curling in. Doug blinks at Micah's description of the mysterious librarian at Jax's school. "No shit? Horns?" He sounds a little surprised, but he covers it with a small, impressed sort of frown. "That's cool. I don't think I've met anyone with actual horns before." He winces at the claiming of his pawn, and he studies the board for two of his five minutes before he moves a knight into play and presses the timer with a small smile for Lucien. "See? It all pays off, eventually. Hopefully. Ideally." Matt's confusion gets a slow inhale through his nose. "I've been having...issues," he says. "With my abilities. Which really trips me up at work." He waggles fingers at his temple. "Can't code if you can't understand anything." He purses his lips, and squints. "Can't do much of anything, really. Except wait for it to pass." He exhales heavily, and wrinkles his nose. "So. Slow." Lucien's brows tick up at Doug's explanation, a note of intrigue in his eyes. "That sounds rather --" "/Rough/," Matt slips in smoothly over whatever Lucien had been about to say. "I mean, really rough. Do you have any idea why? It's -- /possible/," though he doesn't sound entirely sure, "that I could take -- a look, anyway, I've gotten kind of good at." His cheeks flush darker, head shaking unhelpfully. More unhelpfully given that he's likely never explained his ability to Doug. "I probably can't fix anything," he allows with a brief look to his brother, "but I might be able to see. Better. What's going on." Lucien ignores Matt's brief and briefly pointed look in favour of pressing back further into Micah's touch. "My brother is something of a wizard when it comes to fiddling with powers." "More than I used to be," Matt agrees, "The labs are pretty good at. Training you." “Yeah, there's a number of teachers with real strikin' appearances over there.” Micah offers before going quiet while the others talk shop, stealing another lick of Luci's ice cream as his other hand moves in meandering circles along the other man's back. Doug seems a bit nonplussed at the offer, and he glances at Lucien for...confirmation? Maybe. Could be something else. "Take a look?" he echoes, furrowing his brow. "Are you a telepath? Because Hive didn't say anything about my brain being wrong or anything. It's even got Dr. Saavedro stumped, I think." When Lucien elaborates, the blonde ahs softly, and tips his head to study Matt. "That would be really helpful," he says, looking a /little/ troubled at the mention of the labs. "I mean, if it doesn't take too much out of you. I know some abilities do that...." He glances at the bench again, concern for Matt (and perhaps the whole idea) evident on his features before he pastes a smile on his face, and motions at the board. "But after you kick my ass in chess," he says, and points at the timer. "I believe it's your move." "Not a telepath. Kind of a thief. I hijack powers. I'd demonstrate," Matt is meanwhile moving to capture Doug's knight, "but it's sort of rude to do. I'll have you in four, I think," he adds with a look at the board. "His clock may run down first. Which is good, really, I am quite hungry. You are still joining us for dinner?" Lucien's brows raise questioningly to Micah. "Is Jax coming too?" Matt's voice here is a little bit quieter. "I know he's been --" He shrugs a shoulder. At Lucien's professing hunger, Micah moves the ice cream cone closer to him. See? Delicious foods. “Absolutely. Jax should be comin'. He had some things he had t'do first. I'll check if he needs me t'go get 'im from home or if he's good meetin' us.” He slides his phone out of his pocket, quickly swiping what is presumably a text to Jax. "Maybe you can show me later," Doug says, giving Matt another appraising look -- which distracts him from the capture of his knight, and he blinks at the board when Matt makes his prediction. "How did /that/ happen?" he wonders, and uses a pawn to avenge his knight. "This is very different from playing the computer," he notes. When dinner is mentioned, his eyebrows hike. "Oh, hey, if I'm keeping you guys from dinner..." "There are /so/ many things I could show you." Matt's eyebrows waggle with this statement, though given that he's just moving his queen forward he is likely just talking about his moves on the chessboard. "You're not /keeping/ us Luci's not going to starve. Anyway you could join us," he offers brightly. Lucien drags a hand briefly across his mouth, perhaps to hide his crooked twist of smile. He does lick up the bulk of the remaining ice cream, though, crunching a bit out of the top of the cone. "I may starve. Beat him /quickly/. We are going for Indian, if you are into that."