Mac's not dead :) I wouldn't go so far as to say he's indestructible, but I do think he'd compete with cockroaches for ultimate survivor after the world goes nuclear :-D
And wiping out the Ilmatu on the forbidden island just handles that one part of the problem. They're hatching out at the poles, remember?
I am pleased to hear that you'd been having some fresh and smoke free days though, as there are a lot of fires across Canada at the moment. I hope it stays smoke-free for you.
The river Henrik ran a hand through his shock of blond hair. It was natural -- his mother was Norwegian and had strikingly blonde hair and icy blue eyes that intrigued and warned people off. His father was a short man who'd been bald all of Henrik's life, so he had no idea what his natural hair colour was, but it seemed he'd not inherited it. He hoped he'd not inherited the baldness either, but since he wasn't quite thirty yet and there was no signs of it, he was hopeful.
At the poker table the three other players -- there had been eight to begin with, but four were out; the last swearing colourfully under her breath as she scooped up her Michael Kors handbag and stalked away from the table towards the bar -- all pretended not to notice what he'd done. He knew they were all trying to decide if it was a tell, or something intended to make them think it was a tell. Across from him the dark-skinned beautiful woman who only ever introduced herself as Chrysabelle met his eyes for a moment and then returned to studying her cards. He suspected that she was going to try to distract him later on at crucial moments with those glances and gazes, and he was doing his best to prepare for that.
He held two Jacks in his hand, and he'd checked them four times already. None of them were one-eyed but he could feel the presence of the one-eyed Jack nearby. Someone at the table was holding it, because it wasn't there in either of the face-up cards in front of them all. Juriko, the dealer this hand, placed the flop card down.
Henrik considered: the face-up cards were now the Queen of Hearts, the four of clubs and the flop was the Queen of Diamonds. That gave him a decent two pair with two cards to turn. Next to him, Graham rubbed his stubbly moustache, something a sixteen-year old might be proud to wear, but which seemed out-of-place on someone in their forties. Of course, that might be part of his play; little inconsistencies to disturb and distract his opponent. Had he known beforehand that they'd be playing this game with a Kniefel deck? Henrik doubted it; he thought that only he and Chrysabelle had recognised the card design and he couldn't tell if she could feel the resonance or not. He smiled fractionally at her as her eyes tried to meet his again, and looked at his cards. The betting started again, and suddenly he felt a tingle in his left wrist. The Queen of Spades, he was sure of it. Sat in Graham's hand, but... solo. He probably only had a pair then.
Graham paid to stay in, and Henrik upped stakes. Chrysabelle, the only one to come after him now, regarded his lazily as a snake, and met his increase. Juriko played the Turn: the ten of Spades. Henrik shuddered, and everyone at the table stared at him for a moment, which immediately told him no-one else had resonance, at least not this hand. He stiffened every muscle he had to control the shudder and it slowly subsided. He listened to his heart pound in his chest, knowing without knowing how that the River was going to be the missing Jack and his full house would win the hand.
He studied the piles of chips in front of his opponents, wondering how much they'd be willing to bet, how close he could come to winning the game at this stage. Because if the deck had this much resonance already, it would be cripplingly strong after the River.
3 comments:
Mac's not dead :) I wouldn't go so far as to say he's indestructible, but I do think he'd compete with cockroaches for ultimate survivor after the world goes nuclear :-D
And wiping out the Ilmatu on the forbidden island just handles that one part of the problem. They're hatching out at the poles, remember?
I am pleased to hear that you'd been having some fresh and smoke free days though, as there are a lot of fires across Canada at the moment. I hope it stays smoke-free for you.
The river
Henrik ran a hand through his shock of blond hair. It was natural -- his mother was Norwegian and had strikingly blonde hair and icy blue eyes that intrigued and warned people off. His father was a short man who'd been bald all of Henrik's life, so he had no idea what his natural hair colour was, but it seemed he'd not inherited it. He hoped he'd not inherited the baldness either, but since he wasn't quite thirty yet and there was no signs of it, he was hopeful.
At the poker table the three other players -- there had been eight to begin with, but four were out; the last swearing colourfully under her breath as she scooped up her Michael Kors handbag and stalked away from the table towards the bar -- all pretended not to notice what he'd done. He knew they were all trying to decide if it was a tell, or something intended to make them think it was a tell. Across from him the dark-skinned beautiful woman who only ever introduced herself as Chrysabelle met his eyes for a moment and then returned to studying her cards. He suspected that she was going to try to distract him later on at crucial moments with those glances and gazes, and he was doing his best to prepare for that.
He held two Jacks in his hand, and he'd checked them four times already. None of them were one-eyed but he could feel the presence of the one-eyed Jack nearby. Someone at the table was holding it, because it wasn't there in either of the face-up cards in front of them all. Juriko, the dealer this hand, placed the flop card down.
Henrik considered: the face-up cards were now the Queen of Hearts, the four of clubs and the flop was the Queen of Diamonds. That gave him a decent two pair with two cards to turn. Next to him, Graham rubbed his stubbly moustache, something a sixteen-year old might be proud to wear, but which seemed out-of-place on someone in their forties. Of course, that might be part of his play; little inconsistencies to disturb and distract his opponent. Had he known beforehand that they'd be playing this game with a Kniefel deck? Henrik doubted it; he thought that only he and Chrysabelle had recognised the card design and he couldn't tell if she could feel the resonance or not. He smiled fractionally at her as her eyes tried to meet his again, and looked at his cards.
The betting started again, and suddenly he felt a tingle in his left wrist. The Queen of Spades, he was sure of it. Sat in Graham's hand, but... solo. He probably only had a pair then.
Graham paid to stay in, and Henrik upped stakes. Chrysabelle, the only one to come after him now, regarded his lazily as a snake, and met his increase. Juriko played the Turn: the ten of Spades.
Henrik shuddered, and everyone at the table stared at him for a moment, which immediately told him no-one else had resonance, at least not this hand. He stiffened every muscle he had to control the shudder and it slowly subsided. He listened to his heart pound in his chest, knowing without knowing how that the River was going to be the missing Jack and his full house would win the hand.
He studied the piles of chips in front of his opponents, wondering how much they'd be willing to bet, how close he could come to winning the game at this stage. Because if the deck had this much resonance already, it would be cripplingly strong after the River.
Greg - I didn't figure Mac could be gotten rid of so easily...
Yes, well, Spheres at the poles then.
The smoke continues to come and go. Currently it has come again. Sigh.
This is fascinating and I hope there is a continuation to come. The resonating deck and other players at the table... all good stuff.
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