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31_days2007-12-04 08:34 pm
whizzy.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2007-12-04 08:34 pm
[DECEMBER 3] [ORIGINAL] Not Rocket Science
Title: Not Rocket Science
Day/Theme: December 3 / Losing Streak
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Roman and Summer
Rating: PG
Summer drew a card from the top of the deck, smirked, then pretended he hadn't meant to and schooled his expression back to the benevolent sort of smugness that was his gaming face.
It was probably supposed to look innocent, not that it would have fooled a complete stranger, let alone the man who was wedged behind the other side of the tiny table. The redhead's eyebrows furrowed in anticipation, and he hunched further over the fan of cards held in long, elegant fingers. "Mm," he grunted.
"Three of clubs," Summer said, all serene triumph. He held aloft the card in question, then placed it face up on the messy stack. "You know what happens when someone plays the three of clubs... don't you?"
"No, I don't." Roman's tone bordered on testy. His cramped posture might have contributed. Whoever had claimed that the living arrangements on Station were designed to accommodate men of tall stature had grossly exaggerated; the alcove containing the all-purpose table was so small that if he straightened he risked a collision with the overhead loft that served as his bed. "Or have you forgotten that you're supposed to be teaching me to play- What's the name of this idiotic game?"
"Euchre," Summer reminded, again, with impressive patience. "I know you're learning, but the rules follow a pattern. If you think about the other cards that have been played I'm sure you can figure it out -- you fiddle with DNA as a hobby, for God's sake."
Roman contemplated, not only the card game but the distance to the door, and how fast he could sprint it, and if Summer could beat him there. Even supposing he could extract himself from behind the table in a hurry without severely injuring himself in the process, the odds were not good. "If the pattern holds, I suppose I do something embarrassing three times and then wait for you to club me over the head."
Summer shook his head.
"With something heavy. Please -- I'm begging you to put me out of my misery."
"Wrong. Playing the three of clubs means I get to see half of your cards, and take any three I want. Unless you have the eight of hearts. That counters the three of clubs, and you'd get to take four cards from me, only without looking first." Summer knew Roman didn't have the eight of hearts. It was one of the cards already face-up on the pile.
"Are there any other cards that counter the three of clubs?"
Summer shook his head, and bit down on his resurging smirk.
Roman tipped his whole hand for Summer to browse. Not for the first time -- or the last -- he complained, "This game is ridiculous. The rules are convoluted and asinine. How the hell did you learn to play it in the first place?"
Selecting three cards seemingly at random, Summer deposited them in his hand. "My aunt's gardener. There wasn't exactly a lot to do in the winter besides smoke, drink, look at nudie mags, and play cards. Only one of those activities is appropriate for distracting an eight year old boy." He dropped four cards on the table. "And tag. That's a mixed straight. Double points because none of the cards are the same suit."
Roman glowered at his assistant, then the cards on the table. Last he studied his remaining cards, tallying their potential point value. "Shit," was his conclusion. He tossed his hand down in defeat. "I could get an inverted triple flush and I still wouldn't catch up to you. I hate my luck. I want your luck."
Shrugging, Summer gathered all the cards and began shuffling them for the next round. "Sorry. It's not like I make the rules. Now, flip a coin to see if we arm wrestle or rochambeau to decide who deals."
Day/Theme: December 3 / Losing Streak
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: Roman and Summer
Rating: PG
Summer drew a card from the top of the deck, smirked, then pretended he hadn't meant to and schooled his expression back to the benevolent sort of smugness that was his gaming face.
It was probably supposed to look innocent, not that it would have fooled a complete stranger, let alone the man who was wedged behind the other side of the tiny table. The redhead's eyebrows furrowed in anticipation, and he hunched further over the fan of cards held in long, elegant fingers. "Mm," he grunted.
"Three of clubs," Summer said, all serene triumph. He held aloft the card in question, then placed it face up on the messy stack. "You know what happens when someone plays the three of clubs... don't you?"
"No, I don't." Roman's tone bordered on testy. His cramped posture might have contributed. Whoever had claimed that the living arrangements on Station were designed to accommodate men of tall stature had grossly exaggerated; the alcove containing the all-purpose table was so small that if he straightened he risked a collision with the overhead loft that served as his bed. "Or have you forgotten that you're supposed to be teaching me to play- What's the name of this idiotic game?"
"Euchre," Summer reminded, again, with impressive patience. "I know you're learning, but the rules follow a pattern. If you think about the other cards that have been played I'm sure you can figure it out -- you fiddle with DNA as a hobby, for God's sake."
Roman contemplated, not only the card game but the distance to the door, and how fast he could sprint it, and if Summer could beat him there. Even supposing he could extract himself from behind the table in a hurry without severely injuring himself in the process, the odds were not good. "If the pattern holds, I suppose I do something embarrassing three times and then wait for you to club me over the head."
Summer shook his head.
"With something heavy. Please -- I'm begging you to put me out of my misery."
"Wrong. Playing the three of clubs means I get to see half of your cards, and take any three I want. Unless you have the eight of hearts. That counters the three of clubs, and you'd get to take four cards from me, only without looking first." Summer knew Roman didn't have the eight of hearts. It was one of the cards already face-up on the pile.
"Are there any other cards that counter the three of clubs?"
Summer shook his head, and bit down on his resurging smirk.
Roman tipped his whole hand for Summer to browse. Not for the first time -- or the last -- he complained, "This game is ridiculous. The rules are convoluted and asinine. How the hell did you learn to play it in the first place?"
Selecting three cards seemingly at random, Summer deposited them in his hand. "My aunt's gardener. There wasn't exactly a lot to do in the winter besides smoke, drink, look at nudie mags, and play cards. Only one of those activities is appropriate for distracting an eight year old boy." He dropped four cards on the table. "And tag. That's a mixed straight. Double points because none of the cards are the same suit."
Roman glowered at his assistant, then the cards on the table. Last he studied his remaining cards, tallying their potential point value. "Shit," was his conclusion. He tossed his hand down in defeat. "I could get an inverted triple flush and I still wouldn't catch up to you. I hate my luck. I want your luck."
Shrugging, Summer gathered all the cards and began shuffling them for the next round. "Sorry. It's not like I make the rules. Now, flip a coin to see if we arm wrestle or rochambeau to decide who deals."