ArchivedLogs:Risk and Reward

Risk and Reward
Dramatis Personae Doug, Hive, Flicker
In Absentia	2014-06-17 '
Location <NYC> Pandemonium Games - Lower East Side
Two floors of geekery, Pandemonium Games in the Lower East Side is, at first blush, a bookstore rather than a gaming store, small and cozy with aisles dedicated to sci-fi and fantasy books. The glass counter opposite the bookshelves, admittedly, does hold a wealth of cards from various collectible card games, though binders of Magic cards predominate. Bins of dice in a wide variety of colours stand at one end of the counter. It is the lower level of the store that is usually the busy one, though. The stairs leading down to the basement head first into shelves and shelves of games; board games, RPG sourcebooks, Warhammer figurines, battle mats. Beyond the shelves of goods, a much larger room is mostly bare save its many wide tables, filled at all hours with people playing tabletop games of all kinds. It's still early in the evening yet -- perhaps early enough to still be considered late afternoon. Pandemonium isn't very busy, just now -- there's weekly Vintage M:tG and a weekly AD&D game both on Tuesdays but neither of those start for an hour or two yet, leaving the store very sparsely populated. A pair of people upstairs poring over the Yu-Gi-Oh! cards at the counter. A young woman rather lost in a book where she sits tucked in among the aisles of sci-fi. Down in the basement, at the moment, it's nearly deserted -- just two young men in front of the board games. Hive is slumped backwards into a chair, in 'ceci n'est pas une lune' t-shirt and faded jeans and sneakers, skeletal-bony arms crossed over its back and his eyes /closed/; he doesn't seem to be paying attention to the games at all though his mental attention idly scans the shelves through Flicker's eyes. Flicker has only just gotten off work, it seems; at least, he hasn't yet had a chance to change out of his red-and-black Mendel Clinic guard uniform, rumpled and sweaty after a long outdoor shift in the sweltering muggy daytime keeping the protesters on the sidewalk from harassing the patients coming to and fro. He looks well glad at the moment to be here in /air-conditioning/, gulping at water from a Nalgene bottle and letting the fingers of his other hand trail over the shelves. At intervals there's tells -- twitches of smile, a soft hitch of laughter -- that suggest despite the quiet down here he /is/ having a conversation. Hive's expression, on the other hand, doesn't change. But he tends to be in sort of a perma-scowl no matter what the conversation topic. Tuesday afternoons are generally a time when Doug would be at work, but a meeting of the not-interns in his team has found him with an early pass for the rest of the day. And a new roommate and place means that such unexpected bounty be celebrated with a new board game. His dark-haired roommate Dominic certainly seemed down for the idea, although if Doug was smart he'd be working on the plans for his computer desk. Which will be cool, especially if he can get one of the new CPUs with the insane processing power. Maybe with more not-Stark jobs. He should also get a pizza on the way home. And some soda. Such is the convoluted thread of Doug's thoughts, which unravels ahead of him down the basement stairs and only really alerts one person there to his presence before he appears. He's dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt with Doctor Hooves and his TARDIS on the front, his laptop bag slung across his chest. The blonde looks a little sweaty; he's only just made it into the constant cool of the lower room. Which makes him sighs happily as he heads for the shelf of board games. Flicker doesn't immediately notice Doug's approach, attention captured by the gaming shelves -- he's currently got Dixit tucked beneath an arm though he's looking at expansions. He /does/ notice pretty much instantly when Doug's footsteps are close enough to hear, though, reflexive lingering guard-reflexes shifting his gaze towards the staircase in habitual-automatic cataloging of New Arrival. Though it turns /less/ habitual-automatic when he catches sight of /who/ the new arrival is, a sudden flush darkening his cheeks. Hive just exhales, sharp and heavy. His eyes don't open, though his hand lifts to scrub fingers along the side of his head. "Moved back in the city for real, then?" That's his greeting, gruff and lazy and still without opening his eyes. His arms tighten against the top of his chair, head tipping to one side to rest his cheek along a forearm. Doug pauses when Flicker turns, and the teleporter's blush is echoed faintly in the teenager's cheeks. "Oh, hey, Flicker," he says, offering a small wave. "I didn't expect to run into..." he trails off, and rubs at the back of his head. "Um, How've you been?" When Hive speaks, he twists to look at the telepath with a small bit of surprise, followed by a spike of cold.../something/ that's immediately pushed behind mental barricades. Instead, he focuses on his new apartment, and the /neighborliness/ of his neighborhood. But Little Italy is like that. Outwardly, he nods, dipping his chin to his chest and studying the sleepy-looking telepath. "Yeah, I finished moving in over the weekend," he says. It's a relief to get out of his parents' house and away from his father's tangible disappointment. "I have a place over in Little Italy." For a moment, he's tempted to extend an invitation, but he resists. "'Snice." Hive's mind reflexively /chases/ after that something, an almost instinctive swipe of lazy curiosity that butts up against Doug's mind in a distinctly /un/subtle squeeze of mental energy that withdraws again almost as soon as he's caught himself at it. Flicker's blush deepens, his head dipping almost /apologetically/ with the awkward reminder: "We do, um, live in this neighborhood. And hang out here like. A lot. All fou -- three of us. Kind of nerdy." Even a year out it's a correction he has to catch himself on. "Juuust kind of," Hive agrees wryly, eyes still closed. One eye cracks open with a sudden sharp curiosity as his attention focuses in on Doug /intently/. "-- Christ, what did you /tell/ your parents about what happened? I mean, shit, did they know --" He breaks off though this sentence doesn't likely /need/ a whole lot of finishing. He presses his lips tight together after this abrupt spill of unrestrained curiosity. "Nice," Flicker echoes with an uncomfortable fidget at Hive's questioning. "Good. Good, that's -- nice." The barricades aren't strong -- Doug's mind, while well-ordered for the most part -- isn't really trained to deal with active probing. So there's a flash of the suppressed guilt and angst that occasionally still knifes at the teenager. He shakes his head as the barricades wobble, a small clearing-type shake as he focuses on Flicker's explanation. "Oh, yeah. Your place is around here. And the coffee shop...." There's a definite sense of Doug having wandered onto the Wrong Turf -- and behind the barricade it goes. "Nerdy's good," he says to Flicker. "I'm totally down with nerdy. Nerds are the best." Hive's question gets a /deep/ crimson flush, and a rush of memories: telling his folks he's a mutant; telling them about the building being bombed; his part in that; his father red-faced and refusing to make eye contact or speak to him -- the potential PR nightmare his son represents clearly evident to someone whose ability allows them to read such things...the barricades come up more slowly this time, and they seem weighty. "You should come b -- " Distracted by memories, Doug almost finishes his sentence, but clamps it off. "Getting anything good?" "Jesus." It's quiet, at this rush of memories, but this time there's more /sympathy/ in Hive's gruff tone. "I can't fucking imagine. I barely tell my mom shit about my life she'd have a goddamn --" "She'd fly you home on the very next plane," Flicker answers Hive with a small twitch of lips -- that maaaybe has just a little wistfulness to it. /His/ parents -- not about to fly him home any time soon. Hive's teeth press down against his lip. His eye closes again. "She does that, I'm putting you on the goddamn flight with me. She'd adopt you in a heartbeat." His shoulder hitches up in a shrug at Doug's question, and he flicks a hand towards Flicker and his copy of Dixit. "S'Tuesday," he answers. "Been a /long/-ass fucking time since --" "Just, um. Getting our library filled out again. Dusk went on a /bigger/ run yesterday but he didn't -- Desi and Taylor really like this one." Flicker drums his fingers against the cover of Dixit. "Coffee shop and the Clinic and Jax's studio," Hive adds to fill out the list of places. "Neighborhood is kind of a hub for freaks." "Little Italy's probably safer," Flicker admits with a crooked wrinkle of nose. "More freaks moving in over the past few years means the locals hate us all the more." Doug's flush deepens at that touch of sympathy, unexpected as it is, and he blinks a couple of times, clearing his throat as he wrangles those barricades back up. "Anyone would adopt Flicker," he says, offering the other young man a small smile. "Who wouldn't want that much cheerful around?" The tease helps to relax him some, and he nods at the game. "That's cool. I'm having to do the same, myself. Thought I'd get something that my roommate would be interested in playing. Maybe Cards Against Humanity or something." The revelation that the Lower East Side is going mutant gets a bit of a smile, and he lifts a shoulder. "Maybe if all the freaks move in, the people who object will move out," he says hopefully. "Little Italy is better than I expected, honestly. Most of the neighbors in my building are pretty much 'live and let live.'" He lifts his eyebrows. "But, I don't know that they've seen anyone like Dusk or the twins, either, so take that for what it's worth." "Cards Against Humanity freaks me the fuck out, man. It's always the goddamn fucking -- /polite/ ones who win with the most twisted shit. Fucking. /B/ and Micah and Flicker clean the fuck up it's bizarre as goddamn hell." Hive may be /extra/-grumbly about perpetual losing. "Hard to play without a crowd, though." Flicker wraps his arms around the box more securely, leaning a shoulder up against the shelves. "Also um judging by the -- rates of --" His brow furrows for a moment, eyes dropping down to his uniform. "I think the current plan is beat us all up so we go away rather than, um, move out? But hopefully if we just. Stay quiet, it'll --" "Yeah, we've kinda made a point about /not/ advertising that shit with the Commons. -- You know, I know a fuckton of /other mutants/ who are still shitty goddamn pricks about people like Dusk and the twins so you never really know." Hive's scowl is returning. Doug grins a bit at Hive's grumbling, although he agrees with the telepath. "That's the whole part that's fun," he says. "You get to see how dark the still waters are." There's a bit of shadow at that joke; a self-consciousness that doesn't make it to his features. "I think Dom said he has some friends who would play," he says. "He's /not/ nerdy, though, so I might also pick up Risk or Axis and Allies, just to be on the safe side." He frowns at the 'current plan', and furrows his brow. "There should be a mutant version of the Guardian Angels," he says. "Although, probably packs of mutants in matching uniforms wouldn't help anything." Flicker /grins/ broad and bright at the mention of packs of mutants in matching uniforms, fingers brushing against the logo on his uniform. "You know the entire Clinic guard staff is all a bunch of freaks? You have no /idea/ the hate these uniforms earn us in this neighborhood. Half my team won't change into their uniforms till they're at work already." "Flicker just likes being in your goddamn /face/. -- Jesus. Risk? You /have/ sunk low." Hive's grumbling still continues. "1. Trail of Tears; 2. Take-Backsies. 3. Profit!" Flicker is gesturing absently down towards Cards Against Humanity, with a cheerfully agreed, "Twisted." "Was that B?" Hive's brow is furrowing as he tries to remember. "That one was /good/." "Horus," Flicker replies with a much brighter smile. "Ion's motorcycle club people hang around Evolve looking scary. Well, not to customers. Just discourages trouble. Think we need more of that." "I don't think I've been to the Clinic," Doug admits. "My only dealings with Doctor Saavedro professionally were before the building went up. But that's cool." He gestures at Flicker's uniform, smiling. "The uniforms look good, though." There's maybe a /hint/ of blush as he says that, and he lets Hive's comment pull his attention that direction. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with Risk," he says. "If the group is good. Risk with a dull bunch is just history class with visual aids and math." He rolls his eyes, and lifts his shoulders. "I have a feeling we'll likely end up playing poker. There was a lot of that talk going on this morning." The mention of Ion's gang gets a blank sort of stare, accompanying the blank space in Doug's brain. "More protection is good," he says slowly, and scrunches his nose up. "Who's Ion?" There's a faint flutter of blush that dusts Flicker's cheeks, though his smile doesn't fade. "I do get hit on about thirty percent more frequently in uniform than out," he admits. "S'the real reason he wears it off-duty," Hive tacks on mildly. "And Jesus there's no such thing as a good Risk group I mean I could get my /fingernails/ yanked out with pliers and even if I'm doing it with my best friends, I'm still getting my fingernails yanked out with pliers." "Ion's --" Flicker stops to consider this for a moment. "Ghetto biker dude from the labs? Hangs out with Kay? Wears stupid bling?" "I like poker." Hive's frown remains. "Some reason, nobody ever wants to play with me." "He cleans /up/ in AC, though," Flicker adds with a crook of smile to Hive that looks equal parts fond and /chiding/. "I'm not surprised," Doug says of Flicker's increased appeal, not looking directly /at/ Flicker as he says it. Because somewhere, he's too close to a line he'd rather avoid. Luckily, Hive's grump provides an easy distraction. "Cynic. Maybe I just play with rowdier nerds. Would it salvage my nerd cred if I got the Middle-Earth version?" His eyebrows lift. "Because I'm really tempted, just to hear Dom try and pronounce some of the locations on the map." When Flicker describes Ion, Doug aaahs softly. "Him." There's a flash of memory -- Busboys and Poets, and a slamming punch to the jaw, followed by lunch and a beer. And the curiosity to possibly know /more/ about the guy, for some reason. "I've met him a couple of times. He's pretty cool." He chuckles at Hive, and crinkles his eyes at the telepath. "I imagine most strategy games with you lose their appeal," he says. "For most people." Hive squints one eye open at Doug -- almost at the same time that Flicker glances away from the shelves and up at the other men with a faint blush. Hive's fingers drum against the chair, lips pursing and twisting to one side with consideration of Middle Earth Risk. "Maybe if you made all your friends speak Quenya while playing." He snorts, quiet and amused, at Doug's memories of Ion. "Him," he agrees, /dry/. "Hive's a cynic? Stop the presses." Flicker's blush is fading into a warmer smile. "He's alright," he says of Ion. "Has a /nice/ bike. -- we won't play Mafia with him either," he adds with a flick of fingers to Hive. "S'fucking discrimination," Hive answers this, /prompt/ in a habitual manner that suggests this topic has come up a /few/ times before. "I think that's a bit beyond Dom's nerd level," Doug says to Hive, his grin tipping lop-sidedly. "He's pretty much at casual level. Walking Dead fan and -- oh, hey." There's a flash of inspiration, and a memory of a specifically-themed board game. "I could get /that/." Which seems to be the plan, now, and he nods. Hive dry tone get a quirk of one eyebrow, and then another faint blush as the teenager realizes the source of Hive's dryness. "I never knew his name before," he admits. "It's good to put a name to the face. I don't think I've seen his bike, though." He chuckles at the banter between the two roommates, and lifts a shoulder as he turns to study the shelf. Just in case the game is /right there/. "I feel your pain," he says to Hive. "People don't want to play video games against /me/, most of the time." The Walking Dead mention puts a noticeable sudden /shudder/ through Hive, his jaw clenching and his eyes closing once more. "I can't believe people still /watch/ that --" His breath hisses out sharply between his teeth. "Are you kidding, that show is great. Maybe it's like a. Reminder. Of how much worse it could've gotten." Flicker's tone is much lighter, but despite the smile he tucks Dixit beneath his arm, wandering over to rest a hand gently against Hive's shoulder. "Mnnh." Hive glances down at his hands, shaky-unsteady these days, twitching slightly against the chair where he is draped. "Video games at least, these days, people will gladly take me in." The dry note in his tone continues. He is slow and shaky still when Flicker's hand touches against him, pushing unsteadily to his feet and leaning heavily against his best friend's arm. "/Tch/," Flicker scoffs, to Doug and not Hive, "/I'll/ take you any freaking day. I gotta let this one get his /naptime/ in before Game Night. Enjoy --" His lips curl upwards further, even as his arm tightens through Hive's. "Your zombies." Doug shrugs. "I can't watch it anymore," he says. "But it's not a bad show. Really more about the characters than the zombies, so it's kind of awesome." He shrugs, and bends to look at a lower shelf. Hive's comment about video games gets him standing back up again, and looking in that direction. "Hey. Video games are usually a pretty equal playing field. And they're getting better all the time." One day, even his will be finished. One day. He frowns with concern as Hive gets to his feet, then smiles a bit at Flicker's challenge. "You're on," he says, and lifts a hand in farewell. "Have fun tonight," he says. "Good luck." Whether that's to Hive or Flicker remains unclear, since his thoughts are already shifting back to his mission. He's totally getting the Walking Dead game when he finds it. And Risk.