|
|
Post by Chørd on Feb 5, 2012 7:04:48 GMT -5
`MatthewMatthew was in the mood for doing something reckless - going out, getting as hammered as possible, and gambling away the money currently on his person...which was a lot. If he woke up in the gutter with his head kicked in and his pockets empty, so be it; it would any day beat one more insufferable moment in the company of the other officers. He tried to be polite, friendly and conversational around them, but that probably just made it even more apparent how uncomfortable he was in their presence. It wasn't the fact they were officers and gentlemen - because that was one of the few things he did have in common with them - it was merely that he never knew what to say around them.
He'd hoped that by finally getting out of his uniform and dressing up in his civilian clothes and heading to one of Philidelphia's public houses, he'd be able to find some like-minded company. He was surprised how much he missed his home comforts, which he'd taken for granted in England. A game of cards, some decent alcohol and a few women sounded pretty damn good right about now and Matthew, now sat in a tavern with a snifter of brandy clasped in hands, was pretty sure now was as good a time as ever to take the opportunity to satisfy those wants.
Absent-mindedly shuffling the pack of cards he'd brought with him, he stared out of the window he was seated beside, watching the people walking down the street outside. It was half five in the evening, and just turning dark. Any minute now the tavern's night-time customers would start heading in, and the Lieutenant was more than happy to buy drinks for any of them who wanted a game. It wasn't like he had anything better to spend his money on, after all.
He set the now thoroughly shuffled cards down on the table and took a sip of his brandy, squeezing his eyes shut at the initial strength of the alcohol. Sinking back into his chair and swirling the drink around in his glass, he looked around at some of the men now entering the building, happy to wait patiently for company to arrive. [/size] |
|
|
|
Post by teperehmi on Feb 5, 2012 14:11:21 GMT -5
Despite only having been in Philadelphia a few weeks, Joseph was quickly becoming a familiar sight among the reckless younger society. On a given night, he could easily be spotted at any one of the numerous gambling houses, taverns, or clubs. There was a certain charm in the way he always dashed headlong into high stakes games of chance, usually throwing in embarrassingly large piles of money on the slightest chance of a win. As a result, he seemed to have accumulated a small fan base, usually of questionable repute, which collected wherever he happened to make an appearance.
And tonight was no different. Joseph arrived at his favorite tavern just as night was falling ahead of his usual group. His good mood was a bit cheerier than normal as that morning he had received a tear stained letter from his mother. Among the ink blotches and blurry spots were pleas to return home interspersed with bible verses condemning the vices of gambling and the life of leisure. Joseph was used to such mail from her. She usually sent him such a letter at least once a week. His father had long since given up on him. But his mother still seemed to believe in his redemption. Joseph never replied; the letters usually ended up reduced to cinders in his fireplace. And they usually put him in a sour mood. But this time, his mother had included some money to bring him home. And, the irony being lost on him, he decided to gamble it away.
Upon entering, he promptly ordered a bottle of Madeira as he planned on being there for awhile. Taking his bottle and a glass, he looked around for something to do. His eyes immediately fell on a gentleman sitting near a window. He was someone that he hadn’t seen before but as Philadelphia was a large city, he wasn’t surprised. Noting the deck of cards on the table in front of him, and thinking that he looked rather bored, Joseph grinned. Perfect.
Joseph slid into a seat in front of him. Uncorking his Madeira, he poured himself a large glass. He gestured to the cards, “That’s a nice set of cards. You know how to use them?”
|
|
|
|
Post by Chørd on Feb 5, 2012 17:12:42 GMT -5
`MatthewLuck appeared to have struck - and not a moment too soon, either - as Matthew noticed another man grinning in his direction, who then proceeded to head over to his table and invite himself to a seat. They appeared to be roughly the same age, not that he was fussy about what age his company was. He studied the stranger's expression, leaning forwards slightly and clasping his hands in front of him on the table. "Evenin'," he greeted him, giving him a brief smile.
He watched, one eyebrow raised, as the other man poured himself a drink from a bottle he'd purchased, a smirk spreading across his face as his companion gestured to the cards in front of him.
"I can play," he answered modestly, giving a gentle shrug, raising his glass to his lips and sipping again. "Piquet, Faro, Vingt-et-Un," he glanced around at the other men and women in the tavern, "Whist if we had more players."
He grinned at the other man. "Can I tempt you to a game?"
He picked up the cards and began shuffling them again, still watching the other man, a devious expression plastered on his face. It seemed he'd have company for at least one game, providing the stranger joining him was up for playing.
"Might I ask who I'm to be playing against?" He glanced down at the cards in his hand before setting them down, waiting for his partner to name the game and choose who was to deal.
Despite his new-found optimism and high spirits, he had a feeling he was going to lose. For one, he hadn't played in a long time, and was out of practice - not that his opponent needed to know that, of course. But then again, did he really care if he lost? It wasn't as if money was an object to him, so whether this man beat him or not, nothing could knock the good mood he was in.
[/size] |
|
|
|
Post by teperehmi on Feb 6, 2012 13:46:16 GMT -5
It was always a risk playing with someone unfamiliar. It turned the very act of playing cards into an even bigger game of chance. He could be playing with anyone from a master player to someone who had picked up their first deck that very morning. However, Joseph was not picky. While it would be nice to know the exact skill level of his opponent, he couldn’t resist taking a risk regardless of what the outcome may be.
Joseph studied the man. He seemed to be very confident. Perhaps a little too confident? Joseph tried not to judge. He had gotten the wrong impressions before. The last thing he wanted to do was to become overconfident.
He grinned as the man named off games. “Piquet if you don’t mind.” It was almost too perfect. Piquet was his best game.
“But I must confess; luck seems to have left me lately,” Joseph doubted the man would fall for it, but it was worth a try. “Perhaps I can coax her back.”
Joseph toyed with the idea of a fake name. He had no reason to hide but playing cards under a nom de plume was always more fun. It went hand in hand with the intrigue of piquet. But as several tavern patrons had already called out greetings to him, he knew it would be pointless.
“Joseph Whiting. And who might you be?” It was a fair question. Joseph usually chose not to play cards against opponents who refused to state a name. Most of those who were unwilling to state their identity had been called out in the past. As Joseph had very little tolerance for cheaters, he usually avoided those like the plague.
“As they are your cards, would you care to deal?” He knew the answer would be yes, as only a beginner would waive that right in piquet. But he intended to watch the dealing very closely for any sign of markings on the cards.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chørd on Feb 6, 2012 15:50:07 GMT -5
`MatthewMatt nodded at the other man's response, taking up the cards again. He'd have to stop shuffling the damn things, lest he wanted to appear nervous, fidgetty or bored with his companion.
"I don't mind at all," he replied with a smile, sorting through the pack to remove the cards they wouldn't be playing with, which he tucked into his coat pocket.
He raised an eyebrow at the man's claim to be out of luck, shuffling the smaller 32-card pack once more. "Well, I'm out of practice, so I suppose it'll be a fair game." Not that he believed the man at all. Certainly if he was feeling down on his chances, he wouldn't be announcing it to the world - unless he wanted to coax his opponent into becoming cocky and complacent.
He nodded at the man's name, watching his face for any sign of deceit. If he had reason to lie about his name, then that gave Matt reason to be cautious.
"Matthew Chord," he answered, "pleasure to meet you."
From what he could gather from Joseph's accent, he guessed he was from one of the Southern colonies - the Carolinas, Georgia, Virginia...that sort of place.
He grinned at the invitation, a sure enough affirmative response, before ceasing his shuffling and dealing out the cards into two piles of twelve and a talon of eight.
"Take whichever pile you want," he offered, making to drink from his snifter again until he realised it was empty. He frowned at the empty glass for a moment before managing to catch the eye of a waitress and ordering another bottle of brandy. Well, he was well on his way to being drunk senseless - barely an hour after heading out, and he'd already gotten through his first bottle.
"So. What brings you to Philadelphia?" He asked, still assuming that his companion wasn't from around the city. He took the remaining pile of cards and examined them, trying to keep his face void of emotion.
[/size] |
|
|
|
Post by teperehmi on Feb 8, 2012 16:30:56 GMT -5
Joseph laughed as the man responded that he was out of practice. “I have never yet met a man who was ‘in practice.’”
He thought about the typical rituals that always preceded a card game. First everybody must have a drink. Then the introductions were passed around. They were gentlemen after all and gentleman always introduced themselves. Only ruffians played as strangers. And, finally, each player insisted that they were in fact the most down on their luck or out of practice. He was certain it played two parts. All outward appearances led one to think that a gentleman at cards must always be modest. But the truth of it all was that overconfidence was a detriment in good card playing. And the more confidence an opponent had, the more likely he was to make a mistake at a crucial moment.
Joseph looked at the piles. He took the one closest to himself. Fanning his cards out, he began to sort them. It wasn’t a particularly great hand, but it also wasn’t bad. It certainly wasn’t without hope.
“What brought me here?” Joseph finished off the Madeira in his glass. “Freedom of course…from my family I mean.” He quickly added the last part. If there was one thing he hated, it was political discussions and he certainly did not want a good game of cards ruined by talk of the War. “What about you?” Joseph was taking a guess that the man wasn’t from Philadelphia. In his time there, it seemed to him that the majority of those he met were either merchants or simply passing through.
Joseph poured himself another glass before looking down at the cards in his hand again. Choosing carefully, he took two cards and placed them face down on the table. Taking two from the talon, he placed them in order in his hand. The exchange wasn’t for the worse but it still wasn’t the great hand he was hoping for.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chørd on Feb 9, 2012 12:35:07 GMT -5
`MatthewMatthew glanced up at Joseph as he answered his question, looking away from him briefly to nod in thanks to the serving girl as she set a bottle of brandy down on the table for him then poured him out a glass. He refrained from sighing irritably when the man said he was here for liberty, though gave him a smile when he quickly added that it was freedom from his family he was after. As much as he wouldn't have cared who he was playing against, he didn't fancy gambling against a Patriot too much, and they probably wouldn't be too happy about playing with him if they found out he was an officer on the opposing side.
Matthew gave a small shrug in response to the question, silent for a moment. He didn't particularly want to bring up the war and army and ruin a perfectly good game and evening. "Work," he answered bluntly. "And my brother. Unfortunately, I don't have freedom from him. Yet." It wasn't strictly a lie, and if his companion wanted him to elaborate on his profession, then he would.
He took a quick drink of his brandy before he ordered his cards, running his teeth along his bottom lip as he studied them. It was an ok start - he certainly had some obvious cards to focus on, and to get rid of.
After his opponent had exchanged, Matthew removed four of his own cards, placed them face down on the table beside him, and took the same number from the stock pile. He frowned at the cards he'd picked up when he saw them, before a smile broke out across his face. Unless his companion had an even worse set of cards, he was pretty sure the first hand would not be going to him. Still, he had at least five more chances to best him, didn't he?
He took another sip from his brandy, well aware that if he carried on drinking at this rate he'd be through his second bottle long before the partie had finished being played.
[/size]
|
|
|
|
Post by teperehmi on Feb 14, 2012 16:40:21 GMT -5
Joseph studied his glass for a moment before taking a big gulp. “God, this stuff is awful.” He finished it off and poured himself another glass. “But still…”
The bottle was now half gone. It was going to be a long night and chances are he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. And somehow, he was okay with that. It was all about living in the moment. It was about enjoying life as it came. It was about drinking and enjoying the company of those around him. It was about taking risk and living on the edge. He sighed. Part of him missed Camden. Philadelphia just could not compare. Not only were the people better farther south, the weather was also much nicer. And the drinks were better as well. The Madeira here tasted cheap.
“Are you a merchant?” It seemed as though nearly everyone in Philadelphia was a merchant. That was the problem with port towns. They were entirely made of merchants. And it wasn’t as though Joseph had anything against them; they were just not the sort of people he usually spent time with. At least he hadn’t until recently.
He looked down at his cards again. “Point of five.” It wasn’t the best start but it could have been worse. The declaration phase didn’t always dictate who took the trick. It was trivial.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chørd on Feb 16, 2012 9:09:03 GMT -5
`MatthewHe grinned at his opponent's apparent distaste of his drink, swirling his own alcohol around in its sifter.
"I'll be sure to order two bottles of brandy next time, then," he offered, "providing you don't mind that."
He really didn't care if either of them wound up as far from sober as humanly possible, and completely forgot all about their card game in favour of staggering drunkedly down the street. That's what generally tended to happen whenever you mixed strong alcohol with gambling, anyway - that or fights errupted from nowhere. Typically for Matthew the events generally tended to be a bit more amusing than violent - caution was thrown to the wind, as were the cards, and he and his companions went off waltzing around the city throughout the early hours of the morning, and waking up later in some unfamiliar place with no recollection of what had happened the previous night.
He shook his head when he was asked if he was a merchant. Never had been, and never would be if he could help it.
"Ah...no," he answered, shrugging diffidently. It was reasonable guess though, he supposed. Certainly everyone in the coastal and port towns seemed to be a merchant, was married to one, or at least knew of someone who belonged to the occupation. Not that he was complaining, of course - merchants brought in trade, which in turn brought in money, and money seemed to be the main thing making the world turn 'round at the moment.
Matthew was torn between cursing his luck, and laughing at himself when his opponent made his first declaration.
"Good," he nodded once, glaring at his cards. He doubted he'd get much in the declaration stage, so he had everything to play for when it came to the tricks.
[/size]
|
|
