ONE OF A KIND.

❝ If you like to gamble, I tell you I'm your man. You win some, lose some, it's all the same to me. ❞

[dealem]

@withashatteredblade‘s hand has been dealt

“You damn cheater!”

     Before the sore loser could even attempt to lay a finger on the Card Master, two guards had forcibly pinned him to the table, where he barked some more before being dragged away kicking and screaming. Twisted Fate merely smiled, doffing his hat in farewell to the now penniless patron before returning to his beverage of choice: a glass of well-aged Demacian whisky, which he finished off with a final, pseudo-celebratory swig.

“By the way,” he began, licking the residue alcohol from his lips as he turned to the brightly-dressed and overly-made up woman beside him, “is this your card?” At his words, the Card Master selected a seemingly random card from the pile that had been scattered from the disgruntled gambler’s hissy fit, and presented it to her. 

“It is!” she gasped, looking the card over from every possible angle as if she couldn’t believe it. “It’s even got my lipstick mark! That’s amazing!” The woman leaned in close, her inflection a delighted purr. “How did you do that?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Twisted Fate replied, glancing down at his watch. Wonder how Malcolm’s holding up, he thought; considering nobody had gotten shot yet, he reckoned it was safe to assume that his partner was behaving himself -- which meant there was enough time for one more round.

“Pardon me, sweetheart,” the Card Master called out to a passing cocktail waitress (cute one, too, though she didn’t seem particularly happy at the moment). Twisted Fate lifted his empty glass and placed it on the waitress’ tray, along with a few chips. “Mind fetchin’ me another glass of your finest? Oh, and somethin’ for my lady-‘friend,’ too,” he added, gesturing to the woman at his side (whose expression seemed to sour at the other’s presence).

[dresswellbro]

[dealem]

names of the riverfolk;

The people of the Serpentine River tend to have three names: their river name, their layfolk name, and their “other” name. When a child is born, they are often referred to as “the little one” or “the tiny one” because their character has not yet been determined. Only after they’ve grown a bit (usually by their first year) are they given a name; this is their river name, or the name river people use when speaking or referring to each other, and usually reflects a personality trait or is passed down from a relative / family friend.

River names can span across cultures and even be humorous; it would not be unheard of for a river girl to be named Ava, after Avarosa, because her parents believe that the name would lend their child the legendary Freljordian queen’s compassion and greatness. If a river boy’s favorite snack is melons, then it’s possible for him to be given the name Dudum, which means ‘gourd’ in their language.

A layfolk name, also known as a Gadžo name, is the name given to a person of the Serpentine River by non-riverfolk. This is often a mistranslation or a mispronunciation of their river name, and can vary depending on which township or village they’re visiting. Many were simply called by common names tied to the given area (a male gypsy was the equivalent of “John,” a female gypsy was “Jane,” etc.). Riverfolk rarely ever use a Gadžo name, and simply tolerate it.

And finally, their “other name,” also known as their aver nav, is a name with a specific function. A superstitious people, those of the Serpentine River believed that names hold a certain power; an “other name” is meant to protect a child from illness and evil spirits. Let’s say a child’s name is Tera, but her parents and other riverfolk call her Husa. If an illness or evil spirit appears, it will look for a child named Husa to possess, because that’s the name by which her parents and other gypsies call her, but no such Husa exists. Husa is merely the "other name" for the child. The illness does not know that the child's real name is Tera because the name Tera has been kept secret from everyone but the immediate family. Therefore, the illness is unable to find the child and cannot hurt her.

If a river person shares their real name with someone, then they are essentially giving this person the power to harm them -- and trusts that they won’t. This is a common practice between husbands and wives; best friends have also been known to share their real names with each other, though this tends to be discouraged by the Elders.

In Twisted Fate’s case, his river name and other name are both Tobias; his layfolk name has become Twisted Fate; and his real name is Tobar, which he’s only shared with the eponymous Lady Luck shortly after his exile in hopes of persuading her to aid him. So far, it seems to have worked out in his favor.

[dealem]

reunion

[bilgewaterbaptism-blog]

And just like that, the wildfire in his ribcage overflowed.

He would have gladly taken another shot at Fate if the coward hadn’t already begun to try saving his own hide–how typical, he thought to himself with a derisive sneer. He hardly had the time to gloat before his partner had flicked one of his cards at him–no, not at him, behind him. What the hell was he playing at, acting like he was protecting him? The snake was just trying to buy himself a way out, and the red card he pulled was a perfect opening. Graves jerked back moments before the detonation, shoving one of the less fortunate gamblers that hadn’t gotten the memo in front of him to shield himself from the blast. The man dropped as soon as he released him–he didn’t bother checking to see what the damage was, and he kicked his meat shield away roughly before drawing his own revolver and scanning the chaos in the bar for any signs of his target. He wished that gunsmith would’ve finished his shotgun in time, but–if he’d have waited for that, Fate would’ve just as easily slipped away again, and he’d be none the closer to his goal.

“Tobias, you son of a bitch–” he bellowed, shoving aside the furniture in his way as he stalked toward the bar. It only made sense that the card sharp would duck for the first decent bit of cover available, and he certainly wasn’t going to try going to anything in front of Graves–no, he knew better than that, especially now that the gun had come out and his blood thundered in his ears. “Don’t you fuckin’– don’t you dare run from me, you bastard!” Another kick, and a chair splintered apart in his path accompanied by the jingling of spurs and the waves of panic still crashing around them like the change of tides–the outlaw hardly paid it any mind. He was far beyond the point of lingering on anything other than the burning goal that was now just within his grasp–his fingertips had already brushed the edges, and it only served to add more fuel to his rage. Fate knew exactly what he’d done, down to every last detail that had all melted together into the bite of the proverbial knife in his back. Why couldn’t he at least have the decency to roll over and die like the dog he was? It would make this all so much faster, but that would be depriving him of the chase. Graves wanted him to put up some sort of fight for old time’s sake–while the struggle wouldn’t make any difference in the end, he’d been planning this too long to finish it so easily. He wanted the riverman to suffer, and he wasn’t going to stop until one of them was cold on the ground.

His eyes flick over to one of the few sturdier pieces of furniture in the establishment–the bar was a likely spot for the other man to have crawled to, and it wasn’t as if there were many other options remaining in the building. Graves knew better than to hop over the counter, but he sizes it up nonetheless as he flicks the safety off of his revolver, already preparing to take the first shot he had. Fate likely had another card ready, and he had no intention of falling for that maneuver so easily; he couldn’t afford to be stunned by that yellow card bullshit, and he’d sooner turn himself back in to the Locker than give Twisted Fate any opportunity to tilt the odds in his favor. The card sharp had enjoyed plenty of time living carefree while he’d been behind bars–why should he get anything else? He’d taken five years of Graves’ life, his trust, along with far more than he’d ever admit, and for what? To throw them away as if they never even mattered in the first place–as if he never mattered?

No, no. There was payment owed, and the outlaw was going to take his toll. Fuck gold, he was out for blood.

[dealem]

“Well, since y’asked so nicely,” came Twisted Fate’s dry response, though he knew the outlaw wouldn’t be able to hear a damn thing over all the screaming and cursing. He flinched upon hearing something smash apart near his makeshift cover -- no doubt another victim of Graves’ unbridled rage. If he wasn’t careful, then the Card Master was going to wind up being the next thing his former partner kicked into pieces.

     Twisted Fate brought a tentative hand to his wounded head, and grimaced upon discovering that even the slightest touch was enough to make it sting. He didn’t know which was worse: the ugly bruise that was going to take up half of his face, or the fact that he was getting blood on his favorite hat. Graves had got him good, the fucking son of a bitch, but in doing so he’d cost himself the chance to actually put a bullet in the card sharp. 

Hope it was worth it, Malcolm.

     His best shot at getting out of this in one piece was still in cards, though Graves sure as hell wasn’t going to make it easy for him; the bastard was out for blood and, as far as Twisted Fate could tell, he wasn’t about to settle for anything less. Another card slid into the palm of his hand, and Twisted Fate began to work his magic on it.

“It doesn’t have t’be like this, Malcolm,” he called out to his former partner. The card sharp knew it was futile, but he owed it to the man to at least try -- owed him a lot more, now that he was thinking about it, but this wasn’t exactly the time nor the place for things like sentimentality. “Why don’t y’take a moment t’simmer down some, and we can talk this out like a couple ‘a gentlemen?”

     Twisted Fate glanced down at the card that had been dancing between his fingers, which now shined like gold. It may have been the oldest trick in the book, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a damn good one; if the outlaw showed so much as a grey hair, he was getting stunned -- and he knew that. “’Cause if you keep on tryin’ t’kill me, I’m afraid I’ll have t’start returnin’ the favor; and I’d rather not be the one t’show you t’your namesake, Graves.”

[dealem]

shimmer;

     He knew from the moment she’d said ‘yes’ that their time together would be short and bittersweet. It was her nature to be as fickle as the shadows she surrounded herself with, though Twisted Fate never could quite figure out if that was because of who she was or what she’s become. The card sharp, being the product of generations upon generations of nomads and wayfarers, thought he’d have the edge over her once their relationship had run its course, but he realized he’d made a fatal mistake: he got comfortable.

     Twisted Fate liked to think of himself as the King to her Queen, but it was clear now that he was just a Jack; and the Queen always trumps the Jack.

"Are you sure?” he practically blurted out once the initial shock had worn off, only to regret having said anything at all. Now she knew exactly what kind of hand he was playing with.

"Yes, I’m sure,” she replied with ease, and had he been listening, the Card Master might have noticed the amusement in her voice, but he was too distracted by the way her hair glowed against the setting sun; too absorbed in trying to memorize how soft and warm it made her cold blue skin look. “It’s over.”

     He was still in the process of digesting her words, but Twisted Fate nodded anyway, and this seemed to satisfy her. She placed a hand upon his chest, and he nearly took a step back, not wanting her to feel just how much his heart was rattling inside its cage. She glanced up at him with a smile that could almost be described as sympathetic; the card sharp could feel himself smile back.

     Wishful thinking.

“Good bye, Twisted Fate.” Her lips gently pressed against the curve of his neck and, for a fleeting moment, the thought of her suddenly tearing out his throat had crossed Twisted Fate’s mind. It left as quickly as it had come, and so did she; the card sharp watched as she walked away, disappearing into the growing shadows just as the barques he once sailed upon had disappeared beyond the waves of the Serpentine River.

     A card slid out from his sleeve and into the palm of his hand, and Twisted Fate made it dance between his fingers. He stopped midway, and folded the now luminescent card in half. “No,” he murmured, lowering the brim of his hat over his eyes. “She doesn’t want to be found.”

[officer-slamsin]

Visit Original Link

every time I close my eyes, I think I think about you inside and your mother, givin' up on askin' why why you lie, and you cheat, and you try to make a fool outta she...

[dealem]

reunion

[bilgewaterbaptism-blog]

The outlaw had taken the time to drink most of the beer while Fate had busied himself with trying to talk his way out of what was about to come down on him–by the time the other man finishes, he found himself down to what he’d estimate as roughly one last good swig, and that was all the appraisal he needed in order to put his plan in motion.

“You think I meant enough t’ you to where you’d bother puttin’ me down? Wasn’ like y’really gave too much of a shit about me when it all got down to it.” He laughed at the idea, the sound rough and grating–there wasn’t the slightest hint of amusement to be found in it, and he spared Fate a hateful glance before he continued. “Sure didn’ seem t’ have a lot of problems with lettin’ me get beat down an’ thrown in a cell to rot, bein’ that all I saw of you was your goddamn back while you were high-tailin’ it. You didn’ even try turnin’ around to see what was happenin’.” His chest felt like it was on fire, his ribs barely restraining the heat that roiled behind them even as it threatened to overflow. The faintest electric tingle of adrenaline and anticipation had set in at the edges of his fingertips, and he can feel every scratch and dent in the worn pewter handle of the mug in his grasp. His hand had curled into a white-knuckle grip, teeth clenched hard enough to make his jaw ache and protest the treatment; he wouldn’t listen, and the dull pain only served to quicken the pace of his heart as it tried to chisel its way out of him.

Graves downed the dregs of his drink all at once, wiping the traces away from his mouth with the back of his hand. As far as he was concerned, he’d given the gambler far more of a warning than he’d ever deserved, and bandying words would only stall the inevitable for so long. He flashed Twisted Fate that same predatory grin, adjusting his hold on the mug in one last-second preparation. The next moment, he flings himself across the table, swinging the bottom of his now-emptied drink toward the side of Fate’s head with all the strength he can muster.

[dealem]

     Twisted Fate’s expression grew dark underneath his hat. Every accusation Graves hurled his way, the card sharp countered with a stern shake of his head. How hard and how often had his former partner gotten his head kicked in that he conveniently forgot about the events leading up to his capture? That he forgot about how Twisted Fate had told him to fall back when things started looking grim? That he forgot about how Wallach had tried to throw herself at the insurmountable number of officers to get them off of Graves – and how Twisted Fate had to hold her back because gods forbid he wound up losing someone else? 

     In the end, he did lose her. And Kolt, and the Brick, until he’d lost everyone. All because Graves refused to listen to Twisted Fate that night, just like he was refusing to listen right now. It suddenly occurred to the Card Master that his former partner hadn’t bothered to ask what became of their crew. Did he even care? 

“The way you were howlin’ an’ screamin’ painted a pretty decent picture for me,” Twisted Fate retorted, no longer interested in maintaining even a caricature of decorum. His trump card was almost ready, he just needed a few more seconds and he’d be miles away from –

     When Graves bared his teeth like those hounds on the shore, the card sharp knew he’d run out of time.

     Twisted Fate went down like a sack of bricks, ears ringing and skull throbbing as he slid off his chair and onto the floor without a shred of grace. The cards quivered violently, sending tremors throughout the Card Master’s body; he struggled to orient himself, each limb feeling heavier than a bag of sand. Twisted Fate released a low moan as he rolled onto his side, managing to lift his head in time to catch a glimpse of the chaos Graves’ actions had created: many patrons were running for the door, others were cowering behind tables, and some were paralyzed in shock.

     The other gamblers had sprung up from their seats and backed away from the two. Despite his blurred vision, Twisted Fate saw that one of them had since armed himself with a revolver and was pointing its barrel at Graves’ back. The idiot hadn’t seemed to notice – or he just didn’t care – too captivated by the sight of the card sharp rolling around on the floor. Instinct took over: Twisted Fate slid a card out from his sleeve and threw it at the gambler’s hand, startling him into putting a hole into the ceiling instead of the outlaw.

     Another card, this time from his other sleeve; Twisted Fate gave it a twirl, and the card’s tinged redder than a freshly-picked rose. He placed it on the floor and glided it towards the confused gambler’s feet before half-rolling, half-crawling towards the bar as the card exploded in a deluge of arcane energy. More screams filled the tavern as those who’d been foolish enough to stay suddenly found the sense to leave, creating enough of a commotion that the Card Master made it behind the counter without incident.

     He readied another card in his hand, knowing his makeshift cover wouldn’t last long. Graves always did have a problem with collateral damage.

[leagueofriri]

[bilgewaterbaptism-blog]

Graves wrinkled his nose, a disgruntled growl the only response his partner would receive for the moment. Dammit, he wasn’t good at this–he could string together all manner of words when he wanted to lighten somebody’s coinpurse, but he wasn’t trying to get gold out of Fate. What he wanted was words, plain and simple; sometimes, those were even harder to get than a good payout. He doesn’t nudge Twisted Fate again, remaining at a respectable distance while his mind works to shape what’s on the tip of his tongue into something that can be properly voiced. There was a delay, of course, but the outlaw succeeded in fitting the pieces into their proper places, although the thought that Fate could simply laugh it off almost kept him from speaking. He didn’t put forth this sort of effort often, and for a moment, Graves almost reconsidered the thought. Nothing ventured, nothing gained–and what was the worst that could happen?

“Naw,” he began, briefly biting his lip as he shifted uncomfortably in place. “but I ain’t stupid. What, did my plans not sit all ‘at well with you?” Painfully slowly, Graves cringes, mentally kicking himself almost immediately after the words left his mouth. That hadn’t been part of the script he’d come up with, and he took a deep breath before he tried again, lightly tugging at the collar of his poncho to give his hands something to do in order to dispel some of the nervous energy building up in his joints. “What I’m sayin’s that I know when shit gets t’ you. That, an’ hidin’ behind your damn hat isn’t such a good way t’get rid’a me. Kinda jus’ makes it more obvious, by the way.” With any luck, the attempt would count for something–he wasn’t about to repeat himself, and if Twisted Fate decided to back his way out of the topic, he wouldn’t bring it up again.

[dealem]

     Damn it all, the card sharp should have just rolled with the punches and kept his cool. It was foolish of him to react so poorly to something that should have been insignificant – he wasn’t Graves, after all. Bastard must be rubbing off on him. Twisted Fate leaned back in his chair, biting the inside of his cheek as his partner struggled to fix whatever he thought he’d broken between them. The Card Master had to commend him for the effort, at least. 

     Because, apparently, he didn’t care enough to do anything about it.

“Damn it,” Twisted Fate hissed, taking off his ‘damn hat’ to scratch the top of his scalp. Look at them, pussyfooting around each other like a couple of children! The card sharp rubbed the tiredness out of his eyes and looked up at his partner with a smile that was almost sheepish.

“No, I’m the one bein’ stupid,” he admitted, albeit with a heavy heart. A good gambler knew when to hold and when to fold – and right now, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with this hand. “Guess I’m jus’ not quite used t’hearin’ the crap that comes outta your mouth, yet. Been a while since I had somethin’ other than my own thoughts with me.”

     Twisted Fate hoped Graves could appreciate the amount of honesty in his otherwise deprecating words. He shouldn’t have brought up such a potentially delicate subject to begin with – this debacle was his fault, and he should be the one to put an end to it. Yet a small part of him couldn’t help but wonder why Graves was so opposed to giving an answer in the first place; did the outlaw have a hard time imagining a world where Twisted Fate no longer existed?

“Oh, and if I wanted t’get rid ‘a you, I would’a jus’ threatened t’take you shoppin',” he added with a hint of mischief, suddenly looking much more cheerful. “Speakin’ ‘a which, y’look like you could use a new pair ‘a boots, Malcolm…”

[fcxfirc-deactivated20160731]

Her tails swayed with a bit of excitement behind her, as she did always love a challenge. She could sense that this would not be just another easy win, but she was prepared. “I suppose I could get behind that proposal,” she replied with a nod of her head.

[dealem]

     Twisted Fate's head canted, his surprise at how readily the she-fox accepted his terms hidden beneath the shadow his hat had cast upon his face. Maybe ‘fighting’ and ‘courtship’ were two sides of the same coin for her kind? If so, then it was her lucky day; the card sharp excelled as both a lover and a fighter.

“Ladies first,” he purred, gesturing towards the she-fox in a theatrical manner whilst a playing card surreptitiously found its way into the palm of his hand.

[musxng]

                                                             I’m hiding from you                                                   but I’m running from me

[dealem]

reunion

[bilgewaterbaptism-blog]

To Graves, Tobias Foxtrot was still just as present as he himself was–sure, he’d noticed that his former partner had gotten himself some fancy new duds, but clothes couldn’t hide him. Not while he was sneaking around Valoran to avoid him, and certainly not while the outlaw was finally staring him down. As much as Graves wanted to lunge across the table and get a good fistful of that stupid expensive shirt he was wearing, he let Fate talk, already anticipating whatever half-assed excuses that could come spilling out of the man’s mouth. His hand balled into a fist, short nails digging crescents into the leather of his bracer.

“You ain’t a real easy man t’find, y’know. ‘F I didn’t know better, I’d say you w’s avoidin’ me.” The chuckle that escaped him held a dark sort of amusement, the sound roughened by far too many cigars and hard nights. “Either that, or you’ve decided t’ be one hell of a coward since th’last time I saw you. Don’ exactly matter, ‘cause I know you want this t’ be over jus’ as much as I do.” He paused, sparing the barmaid a sharp glance as she extricated herself from Fate’s person. A pretty young thing–far too good for the likes of him. “Well, maybe not quite as much.”

Slowly, he straightened up when the pint was pushed his way–what the hell was Fate trying? Did he honestly think that this would do anything to calm him down? No use wasting good alcohol, though; besides, he had a real good idea for what he could do with the mug now that it was so readily at hand. Graves took a small sip, at least pleased to notice that it wasn’t the swill he’d been expecting–it wasn’t going to buy him any time or mercy whatsoever, but he could appreciate it anyway. It was something of a toast, whether or not the other man had really intended it to be. He’d get himself something else to drink after he’d finished with Fate.

“Been thinkin’ about this f’r a real long time. I gotta ask–did you f’rget about me, or what? Sure wouldn’ surprise me. Y’had such a perfect opportunity t’ get rid’a me, an’ it worked. Havin’ somebody else take care’a your dirty work’s right up your alley, ain’t it?”

[dealem]

     As much as he’ll miss having something warm and soft pressed against him, the barmaid’s sudden disinterest had made it easier for Twisted Fate to concentrate on more pressing matters. He plastered a cordial smile on his lips as Graves said his piece, gingerly slipping a card out from his sleeve and into the palm of his hand. It danced between his fingers, slow and steady, building up the energy needed to perform his escape -- he just had to keep things civil between them for a few more minutes.

“Is ‘at what you think went down? That I wanted t’get rid ‘a you?” Twisted Fate’s hand stilled, astonishment supplanting his concentration. Graves’ reasoning skills had always been lackluster, but this? It suddenly felt like the card sharp didn’t have enough air in his lungs; his nostrils flared as he took a few deep breaths, though part of him knew that wasn’t the reason why his chest was hurting.

“I reckon I should be flattered that you’ve made me out to be some kind ‘a evil mastermind,” he continued, reticent despite the humorous undertone of his words. Twisted Fate forced the card to resume its gymnastics along his fingers, mentally cursing himself for letting his former partner get to him; he’s better than that, better than this. The Card Master regarded Graves with another friendly smile.

“You of all people should know that if I’d wanted you dead, I would’a done it myself.”

[fcxfirc-deactivated20160731]

@dealem //  ♥’d

The she-fox’s ears bent back in somewhat of a playful manner, her blue hues sparkling in a mischievous way. “It’s funny that you think I’ll be easy to defeat,” she purred out.

[dealem]

“Oh, you misunderstand.”

     The corner of Twisted Fate’s mouth curled into an impish smile as he adjusted the brim of his hat. He’d have to be extra careful with this one; the cards could sense that she was just as wily as he was, if not more. “I jus’ proposed that, in the event I do win our little match, I get t’take you out t’dinner sometime.”

[kela-de-thot-deactivated2020041]

[x]

[glassmemoir-blog]

“Ya can?”

{/Did he think her to be a fool? There was no way he could actually see the pantry from where they were. Not even she could do that! And she’d like to think she had a decent power, at least. The only thing this guy was good for, was being a good block so that no one actually saw her there.

Even as he sat there listing the patrons and what they were wearing, she was skeptical. How does she know that he just didn’t memorize them when he came in? Or that he couldn’t have turned to look at them? Well, no. He didn’t move a muscle other than to talk to her. That notion was a bust right there. Part of her wanted to move to look and see where exactly he saw these people, because she was too short to actually see. If that didn’t warrant a kick, she didn’t know what would.

But at the same time, she needed his help if she was going to get them. She couldn’t rid herself of him just yet.}

“Okay…how far from tha bar ta tha pantry? Can ya tell me tha’?”

[dealem]

     Twisted Fate was pleasantly surprised; he honestly thought she’d continue arguing with him, or demand more ‘proof’ of his abilities, but the girl seemed to be satisfied with the brief demonstration. If they were successful in nabbing these ‘Twinkies,’ then he supposed that’d be all the proof she needs. Once his eyeballs had stopped stinging, the Card Master glanced around to locate the barmaid; he’d found her back behind the counter, chatting up a couple patrons, and judging the way she kept leaning forward, it looked like she’d be there for a while -- perfect.

“All right, lil’ lady, it’s now or never.” Twisted Fate returned his attention to the cards, though he doubted he’d need their eyes again for the rest of this ‘job.’ The layout of the building was still fresh in his mind; now it was up to the girl hiding behind his legs to follow his directions.

“Jus’ follow the bar towards th’ end, an’ you’ll see a pair ‘a swingin’ doors leadin’ into the kitchen. On the right you’ll find another door; that’s the pantry. So long as you’re quick, you shouldn’t have any trouble gettin’ past the staff. Not like they’re payin’ much attention to the floor, anyhow.”

[dealem]

reunion

[bilgewaterbaptism-blog]

It was high time for a reckoning in Graves’ opinion–he’d waited long enough, and he wasn’t about to put it off for a moment longer.

For once, everything had fallen into place. The tips he’d gotten had finally led to something other than another dead end, even if the outlaw had found himself having to beat the information out of his sources at times–that was just extra motivation, really. He should’ve started doing that much earlier on. Maybe he would’ve found himself staring his target down much sooner if he would have. His info had pointed to this little hole in the wall of a bar, hardly worth noticing to him–he suspected that Fate had possibly been using it as a pit stop of sorts. Either that, or the gambler had lost his touch; although that comment had some truth to it, now that he thought about it. Twisted Fate’s luck had run out the exact second Graves had pushed open that door. Yes, that reckoning was coming on up.

It had been so easy to pick him out from the other patrons, and his eyes hadn’t left Fate from the moment he’d spotted him. The card sharp had glanced up just in time to see the predatory grin that flickered across his face as he approached, all sharp edges and bloodlust–but he’d settle down, as much as it pained him to when Fate was within his grasp after all these years. He had to wait until his partner was much closer, else the slippery bastard could very well escape. Graves wasn’t about to have his revenge taken from him, especially not after it was so tantalizingly close, dangled right in his face–all he had to do was reach out at the right moment and take it.

“Tobias.” he replied, resting his palms against the table and leaning forward. He couldn’t give less of a shit about the other gamblers or the game he was interrupting–they all had their eyes on a different prize, and they weren’t worth his time. “And y’know, I prolly have. Prison food ain’t real good for helpin’ you keep some meat on your bones. Not like you’d know, but I got real familiar with that.” That grin finds its way to his face again, and he does absolutely nothing to smother it–by now, Fate knew what was coming just as well as he did, and he wanted to see the fear in the other man’s eyes. Let him squirm. “I see you’re havin’ a real good time, here! But y’know, we got some unfinished business we really ought’a get around t’ handlin’. Been waitin’ for five fuckin’ years, an’ I don’ think there’s a better time’n this t’ get it all wrapped up.”

[dealem]

     In that moment, Graves reminded the card sharp of a dog – one of those feral hounds that prowled the shores of every town and village his people’s ships had berthed, their jowls constantly dripping and their eyes wide with the most desperate kind of hunger Twisted Fate had ever seen. He’d quickly learned that it wasn’t the hunger that made them so dangerous; it was the desperation, the fact that they had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

     In that moment, Twisted Fate realized he was that everything.

     A round of swears erupted from the other gamblers as Graves approached his target with all the subtlety of a brick to the face. The card sharp canted his head upon hearing the name Graves had called him, momentarily confused. Once it sunk in, Twisted Fate offered an almost apologetic smile -- he didn’t have the heart to tell Graves that the man he’d been searching for all this time has been gone for as long as the outlaw's been locked up.

“Five years is a long time t’be waitin’,” he replied, knowing full well just how meaningless it was, but the Card Master had to keep talking; he had to keep Graves talking, had to buy as much time as possible until he could figure out an escape -- or, at the very least, until the numbness in his legs had worn off.

“You look mighty parched, there, Malcolm. Why don’t I buy you a drink to celebrate your ‘release?’ ” Twisted Fate glanced towards the barmaid hanging off his shoulder, whose arms had tightened around him since Graves’ arrival. “I’d like t’order a pint of your finest ale for my disgruntled friend, here.”

     When the woman failed to untangle herself from him, the card sharp spoke more firmly: “Now.” Gods, how he hated to see her go; loved watching her walk away, though. The other men hadn’t moved from their seats, either too engrossed in the drama unfolding before them or hopeful that the game would continue once all was said and done. The seconds that passed while the barmaid was away felt like hours, and when she finally returned with a tray bearing what Twisted Fate had ordered, she didn’t give him a second glance. Figures.

[rocktunes]

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