Participants:
Featuring:
| Scene Title | Everyone's Busting Out |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | It's a strange day at the blackjack tables in the Corinthian when powers come into play and the probabilities are… Endless. |
| Date | October 14, 2010 |
The Corinthian: Casino Floor
The Corinthian takes its name from a classical order of Greek and Roman architecture, and nowhere in the building is its influence more apparent than on the casino floor, which is supported by slender fluted columns elaborately decorated with scrolls and acanthus leaves. They match the white marble floors and compliment the pale gold colour that the ceiling and room accents have been painted while allowing for most of the attention to rest on what people come here for: the gambling.
Slot machines, roulette tables, blackjack and baccarat are all common fare, but there are also private poker rooms off the main floor with soundproof windows looking in to allow bystander observation while simultaneously providing the occupants with the quiet required for concentration. Pai gow, played with a set of Chinese dominoes, and sic bo can also be found at the Corinthian, catering to New York City's large Asian population.
Metal catwalks in the ceiling above the casino floor are patrolled by surveillance personnel and allow security to look down through one-way glass on the proceedings at the card tables or around brightly-lit clusters of chiming slot machines.
Of the businesses that don't fare too badly in this day and age of New York is the Corinthian. Open past curfew by virtue of it's ability to be both a residence and an entertainment venue means profit for them where others would find none or have to close. But the hour of this day is nowhere near closing time, a nice half past six that finds a medley of people at a blackjack table within the casino proper.
Be it a busker - Griffin, a pair of Doctors - The pair of Brennan's, an intelligence agent for the DoEA - Remy or a member of the military that is Gavyn, the table finds and supports anyone and everyone. The blonde with her hair back in a ponytail, the crisp white of a button down with the vest that denotes her as a dealer for the Corinthian deals out the cards at an astonishingly fast pace. You'll find no charity black jack dealer here culled from the population of the local legion. This is a woman transplanted from Vegas when this place opened, and is good at what she does. Never are her hands not in sight, Showing her wrists and the snug ends of her shirt that one would be hard pressed to actually hide something up. Her nametag proudly states in a fake gold that she is Stacy. Stacy has yet to actually smile, the careful neutrality that those of her employment must maintain, is indeed maintained.
To the side of the table, dressed in suit and purple cocktail dress are the Doctors Brennan, enjoying a night out sans children, and loosing some money at the table. She heavily pregnant and not trying to hide it, him at her side and smiling at nearly everything, even when they lost a hundred to the house. The night is only going to get more interesting.
Remy is entering the casino, his hands tucked down into the pockets of his jeans. His blue t-shirt seems somewhat out of place; he looks different than most of the others that would frequent such a place, though he still wears a blazer over his body - checkered and worn. He walks through the casino's floor, keeping an eye on some of the patrons. Passing by tables, he finally makes his way towards the black jack table. Glancing over Stacy's eyes, he concentrates on her for a brief moment — he shifts a look down to her hands before casting a glance at the others nearby. The doctors in their finery, the others dressed in what appears to be their finest clothing. Under-dressed for the place and suddenly wishing for his suit and tie, he makes a motion to sit down at the table after the final hand is dealt.
"Bad idea or best idea," Remy wonders softly under his breath, tugging at the cuffs of his jacket. He leans back in his seat and eyes Stacy's name tag before watching her eyes again. Dry lips wet by a quick dart of the tip of his tongue, he rests his elbow against the back of his seat, waiting for his cards to be dealt. Folding one leg up over his other, he rests his ankle against his knee and pushes his free hand back through black hair that's a tad more unruly than it should be.
It's a lovely night for some gambling. Griffin Mihangle is soon to ask not only the woman he's been seeing, but his sister, to join in on what could be a Very Dangerous Thing. So, why not waste a little bit of the money? He's decked out in a crisp, clean black pinstripe dress suit, complete with a grey shirt and a black tie, his hair slicked into a faintly spiky style this evening. His right hand rests on the knob-like silver handle of the black cane that he typically carries, leaning on it as he walks; in his left hand, he carries a glass of scotch, on the rocks.
The man eyes the table for a moment, one eyebrow arching to wrinkle his forehead. After a moment of debate, the suited man esttles into the seat, resting his cane against the table. After taking a swig of the scotch, he sets the drink in the cup holder, and slides a $100 across the table to Stacy. Then, he leans back, waiting for his chips as his green eyes trail thoughtfully over those seated here.
ORDER: It is now your pose.
Not long behind Griffin enters Gavyn Mitchell. Her idea to check out the casino scene has her decided to be dressed in the only finery she owns. Fortunately or unfortunately it's her dress blues. Lighter blue short sleeves ironed to a sharp crease tucked into the darker blue, well tailored trousers just brushing the laces of shiny black shoes. Sunglasses are perched firmly upon the bridge of her nose and, unlike her hat, not removed as she enters. The airman's cap is tucked under her belt as she surveys the establishment. Her eyes pick out the black jack table and it's there that her feet carry her
Gavyn slides into a seat and exchanges cash for chips. As she leans back, hands remaining at a rest against the edge of the table, she appears to be watching while Stacy attends to the dealer's job. Though, from behind shaded eyes, she glances to the others who've gathered on the table.
As more players come to the table, dressed fancily, middling to jeans - there are others wandering around who are in jeans - they are acknowledged by Stacy, eye contact made with Remy as she nods, greeting Gavyn as well the same way. Griffin's 100 dollars is exchanged for a handful of chips, calling it out so that the others are aware. This is how it goes, as if you were in Vegas and not New York City.
When everyone seems to be ready and in, the cards are dealt out, over and over, two for everyone and two for the dealer, waiting for everyone to take a look at their cards and place their bets. The Brennans are each playing separate and at the arrival of Gavyn, there's an honest smile from Brennan. "Evening" Offered to the uniformed woman. Michelle flashes an airy smile to Remy and Griffin, cheeks round and flushed from what she's won so far.
"Airman," Remy says with a note of respect upon noticing the cap tucked at her belt. He tilts his head towards Gavyn. "I was army in Afghanistan. Start of the war." He looks back at the dealer. He has a strange accent; it's a clipped tone, but almost Canadian in its inflection. He already has some chips. More than likely purchased beforehand. He pulls them from his pocket and sets them on the table; it's about a hundred dollars' worth. He throws in two twenty chips after lifting up his cards so he can see them. A shift of his eyes towards Gavyn, then Griffin - the busker gets a very slight nod.
He smiles back at Michelle when the woman notices him, "Congratulations," he says in an airy tone, turning back towards the dealer. There's a brief hint of concentration in his features, as though he's considering his options. Hit or stay. Hit or stay. He says to Stacy, "I'll stay." He waits for the rest of the table to make their go around on their turn.
After placing his bet, Griffin lifts the cards just enough to see what he has. Then, after a moment, he reaches down, tapping the table in a sign to hit. A small smile is cast around the table after a moment, the man lifting his drinks to his lips and taking a swig of the harsh amber liquid. He doesn't join in the conversation, apparently content to sit in his quiet little corner of the table and gamble.
A faint smile is offered to Michelle, however, as he notices her pregnant belly. He looks…reminiscent, for a moment, before turning his gaze back down to the cards on the table.
The smile from Michelle is returned in kind, and then shared with Remy. Even Griffin earns a nod before the dealer's actions capture her attention. She watches the cards as they're laid out, eyes following Stacy's hand though sparing some time to look at the woman's face as well.
Once all have been dealt, Gav leans forward and lifts the corners of her cards. From behind shaded lenses she stares at what she's got for several seconds before laying them flat again. Two fingers tap the table for a hit as well, and the airman leans back once again.
"Bonjour" Michelle answers in turn a native french accent. Brennan laughs at whatever is in his hand and turns over his card. Bust, and big when he had tapped the table, loosing the twenty dollars her had put up. 'The cards love my wife and not me" A shake of his head, he looks over to see how the others do.
Stacy deals, quick as can be, crisp movements as Remy is skipped over when he stays, Griffin a card dealt, and Gavyn as well when she asks for another card. Michelle herself stays, content with what she has. A waitress eases on by, inquiring if anyone at the table was desiring a drink and Stacy meets Gavyn's eyes a few times but looks away to watch the others even as one of her supervisors comes to stand behind her and watch.
Responding in fluent, easy French, Remy says to Michelle, «Hello. It's a pleasure to hear the language out in public. I'd take it that luck is favoring you this evening, eh?» He glances back towards Stacy and the others at his table. Time will tell whether or not it favors him. He drums his fingers against his cards, waiting for the verdict. Griffin's indulgence of the liquor is noted, likewise the way everyone at the table requests a hit. He's very studious, it seems, focusing in on every minute detail.
The lanky man raises a hand to indicate his desire to stay, sipping again at his scotch. He glances over the table thoughtfully, before looking back to Stacy. Still the silent one, it seems. He doesn't seem to even speak, really.
Then again, not many people who were also terrorists would really speak in a situation like this. It's gambling, an opportunity to get more money than he had, not a social affair. At least, that's how he feels. He's studious as well, but his glances are quick, noticing small movements and subtleties of the others seated here. He seems slightly interested in Gavyn, despite his silence.
Gavyn motions to stay after a peek at her card and adds in her own bet to the table. "Water, please," she replies to the waitress, giving her only a passing glance. She leans back once again, fingertips resting on the edge of the table, head tilted slightly to allow her to watch the others playing. The arrival of the supervisor hasn't gone unnoticed, she's even glanced at one as well.
Quebecois is not the same as French French, and only one who's born of one, would know and recognize the difference. Michelle however, is not a snob, and there's no turning her nose up at the french that comes from Remy. «Just a little. As much as it does not favour my husband. He is loosing everything and I am winning so we shall break even in the end, but it is all for fun and for charity yes?» She replies in kind to Remy. Brennan hears all but doesn't join in the conversation, fingering the last of his chips and shaking his head.
Everyone passes, and so the moment to reveal comes. Stacy turns over the dealers hand, an 18 that counts of 5, jack and three. But this leaves for the others around the table to reveal their hands. Brennan's already out, Michelle comes up with a 17 and therefore she looses to the house and her twenty dollar chip in turn. The others though…
"I'll have a water as well," Remy says quietly. He turns over his hand, also an 18. Looks like he matched. He keeps one arm over his chair and notes to Michelle, «I really don't have much experience with cards. But, you're right. It's all for charity - a good cause for an interesting vice.» He glances over the others assembled at the table. «I just happen to have relatively good luck.» There's a slight smile that curves his lips before he thins it out, looking back over the others.
Aww. A 17. Griffin shrugs faintly, picking up another chip with which to place his bet and twirling it expertly over his fingers. A brief glance is cast toward the supervisor, along with a nod, and the hook-nosed man turns his green eyes back down to the table. Once the cards are cleared, he sets out his next bet, sipping once again at his scotch in silence. The French speakers prompts a small smile on the man's face, though he doesn't understand a lick of it.
Returning to her hand, the airman shows her cards. With one hand she turns them over and lays them flat and face up. The cards add up to 19, and once displayed Gavyn sits back slightly. One arm rests against the edge of the table, the other lifts and her hand gives a nudge to her glasses. A look over the table tells her she's won the and, and mildly surprised grin tugs up the corners of her mouth.
«A great many people who play have luck, and skill, perhaps though, we might have better luck if we converse in English. The looks that some are giving, we could be construed as rude» Michelle points out to Remy. Michelle and Remy though, both match the house, but house wins when it's a tie and so there's nothing going out to either player.
Griffin looses his money too but Gavyn wins, doubling her pot as Stacy collects the chips one by one, and then dishes it out to Gavyn. "Good play" She breaks the neutrality she's been maintaining. "Good play" Whens he breaks eye contact, to gather the cards up and put them into the deck shuffler again, it falls back into place.
Brennan offers a nod to the others at the table. "Evening" Finally breaking his own silence. "Doctor Brennan, you all would be?" A questioning look to the two others be they silent or not. With bets back in, Stacy's dealing out the cards once again when everyone's in.
Clapping for Gavyn, he gives her a bright smile. «We could be, but we're speaking French. Most Americans figure that we're rude simply out of hand.» Remy responds to Michelle, giving her a slight grin. He nods at her husband. "Remy Franklin, hello." He looks towards Stacy as the cards are dealt out. Giving a slight lift to his cards, he glances over them quietly and nods. His face is implacable. He puts three twenty-dollar chips and holds up a hand to stay. See, he's learning. Adaptable, that's Remy's middle name. When his water comes, he accepts it with gratitude, taking a long drink out of it before setting it on the table near his remaining chips.
Griffin glances toward the talkers, his brows raising slightly. The man then quietly lifts his scotch glass, taking a quiet sip of it, thoughtfully swirling his drink in the glass. Then, he sets it down, turning green eyes toward Brennan, a thoughtful look on his face. "Griffin." This is the first word he's uttered this evening, and it may very well be the only word he'll utter. Perhaps.
He lifts his cards, peering at them, a frown on his face. After a moment, he tentatively reaches out and taps the table, frowning a bit. Hopefully he won't bust, but it's not like he's the luckiest of the bunch.
"Thank you." The airman certainly looks pleased, though as the next round is dealt she tries to sober herself once again. It's poker, you can't be grinning and giving away that you have a good hand. Or a bad one, for that matter. "Gavyn Mitchell," she replies with look and a friendly grin to Brennan. Back to her cards, Gav peeks under to see what she's got and again there's a tap on the table.
Introductions go around, the waitress returns with waters for everyone and Stacy doesn't bother to introduce herself where the others do. Her name tag is supposed to do that right? Right? When everyone but Remy taps, wanting another card, she starts doing that, sliding a card from the machine, flicking them expertly to land on the felt with precision. Michelle, Brennan, skip past Remy, one for Griffin, one for Gavyn.
It's at the latter that the dealer actually talks more than asking if anyone wants another card. "House almost always wins" She informs Gavyn. "It was just luck that you got the last hand, it's the way it is. Casino's are in the business of making money, not loosing it" So honest this dealer, and her supervisor is just standing behind her, looking at his dealer.
«That they do, think us rude. so sad for them» and michelle is tapping for another card and Brennan folds once again bust and loosing his 20 chip. Not his luck
«My father was French-Canadian. I learned the language when I was a child. It made learning Spanish easier. Arabic was a mite bit more difficult.» Remy smiles over at Michelle, having enough social grace despite his punked-out attire to hold up light, casual conversation in such a location. He watches each card land with the precision from Stacy's hand. For Remy, everything slows down. Each card that is removed from the machine and flown across the table does so in slow motion in his mind's eye. To outside observation, his eyes are simply staring off into space, watching the machine in a near trance. He brushes his fingertips over the top of his cards.
Idly, his voice somewhat distant as he snaps back to the reality that he shares with the rest of the group, "Does the House almost always win? That's the sad thing about these sort of places. Still, it's a good place to go if you decide to be out past curfew and want to lose your money for a good cause, eh?" He half-smiles.
Griffin frowns quietly as he busts, leaning back in his seat and picking up another chip with which to place a bet later, sipping at his scotch as he waits for the rest of the players to finish the round. Doesn't it just figure that he'd get a ten the one time he takes a risk. He drains the last of his scotch, the ice cubes jingling in the glass. Then, he's flagging down a waitress to order one more scotch on the rocks.
"Is that right," Gavyn muses as she peeks under her cards. Bust. "Guess they do," she says with a chuckle as she folds. The glass of water brought to her is picked up as she leans back in her seat. Her eyes go to the dealer and her supervisor, watching the pair quietly while she sips.
Michelle busts as well, her cards turned over with a slight frown as it seems her streak has ended, a hand going to her belly as the fabric shifts from something within that opts to make it's presence known to both it's parents. This leave Remy's hand still yet unturned and leaving his chips as yet unclaimed by the dealer.
A scotch on the rocks, there's a polite murmur from the server as she takes off to fill the order and Stacy starts to talk. Again. "The odds are stacked very against anyone winning. Sure if you're a card counter you can win, but the house isn't in the game of loosing money and so they switch decks often and dealers often so that there's not that chance. It's luck, or real skill if you can beat. This game the odds are a little better than say Poker or Roulette"
The poor woman's supervisor is just staring at her. One of their best dealers just stands there, dealing, and jibbering about things that would turn a player away from the table. "Take the Doctor Brennan. She won a couple hands" See, she was listening when introductions were made. "But she's loosing now. You'll win more, and then risk more and then when you loose you loose big, and that's what the house likes"
"Stacey" This comes sharply from the pit supervisor behind her which makes her look away from Gavyn and Griffin to her boss. "Yes?"
Looks like it's just Remy and the dealer. Everyone else busting, Remy nods as he watches Stacy flip over her cards. He turns over his own, showing an ace and a queen. "Not always," he notes, "so it seems. Nothing is completely determined," he quirks a brow up. "That was odd," he says quietly. He looks over towards the others, then back at Stacy. It's a curious look — one of those, 'everyone else just saw that' kind of looks. "Why did you tell us that?" He shakes his head slightly, looking down at the black jack that he's got. He pushes at the queen with the ace, watching Stacy very closely.
Griffin blinks quietly as the dealer begins to rattle off information about gambling, and the stakes of things. His brow wrinkles quietly as he peers at the woman, then her supervisor, a frown on his features. He doesn't say much in response, glancing toward Remy and back to Stacey as if to support the man's question. "Indeed…" He mumbles this quietly to himself, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully.
That's a rather unusual topic for a dealer to start on, and Gavyn just sits there and stares at her while she goes on. When finally the supervisor breaks into the lesson on how casinos work, the airman starts to shake her head mutely. Behind shaded lenses her eyes widen slightly, then oh so casually she looks away. Oh look, Remy won this hand. "Nice," she congratulates the former service member, though her voice has taken on a tight, slightly uncomfortable edge.
"Shift change" Get the dealer off the floor, before she says something else. There's a note for someone to talk to her, the oddity that was a perfectly well behaved dealer who did what she was supposed to suddenly babbling at the mouth. She finishes up this round, Remy's money doubling and chips dealt out. hands up, wrists shown, the dealer backs away from table to head off behind the velvet rope that cordons off the rears of the table.
A new dealer eases in, a male this time but the Brennans plural have decided to mosey off, a goodbye to the group since things got a little weird there, Harve helping Michelle up to her feet and arm in arm, the pair heading out to other parts of the Casino. Which leaves Patrick, the new dealers, doing the same move that Stacy did when she came in. Hands up a fresh deck replacing the one that was there, a seal on the pack unbroken. Wrists shown, the old deck removed by the supervisor and when it's only that dealer, he's breaking open the new deck, placing it in the shuffler, looking to see who is still in.
Waving at the Brennans, Remy says to Michelle, «It was a pleasure meeting you, madame. Have a lovely evening.» He smiles at her husband, tilting his head towards him, then turns back towards the new dealer, having collected all of the chips from the last game. He nods at the man. He's still in, despite the weirdness from the previous dealer. He chews at the side of his lip and glances between Gavyn and Griffen, then back towards Patrick.
Taking a deep breath, he pushes his sleeves back along his arms and leans against the table, ordering a drink this time - it's just a beer, but it's the least amount of alcohol that the agent will indulge in. He finishes off his water and tilts his head to the side, watching Patrick as he opens up the deck and fills the card machine. The card machine gets another glance. Focusing in on it, he watches as the cards are shuffled down into the bottom of it, following each one as they move in a slow pattern of possibility.
Perhaps a new deck will raise his chances. Griffin throws another chip out on the table. As his scotch on the rocks arrives, he offers the waitress a tip, before turning his eyes back to the table, watching Patrick thoughtfully. A small wave is offered to the Brennans as they depart, the man quietly leaning back and swirling his drink for a moment before sipping at it.
A small, rather insignificant wave is given to the Brennan pair, coupled with a quiet "Have a good one." Gavyn lifts a hand to rub her under her eyes while she considers staying in. What the hell. Could have just been weird coincidence. Pushing the sunglasses back into place, she buys into the next hand as well, looking up at the new dealer.
But the possibilities don't come to Remy and it's not because of the Brennan's, Harve and the purple clad Michelle gone with a parting of french and out of sight. The deck remains as blank a mystery to Remy as it does to Gavyn or Griffin. This dealer passes out the cards once the machine is done, pull slide, pull slide, pull slide over and over till everyone and house has a card and the ante's are forward. A new supervisor coming up behind the table, watching the dealer and watching the trio at the table.
Something strange happens. Remy blinks twice and gives a slight shift of his head; panic suddenly hits him. He takes a few quick breaths. His hands grip at the table tightly and he stands up to his feet. "I.." But it looks like he's already been dealt a hand. He sits down at the table again and wets his lips, suddenly gone dry. He reaches out to pick up his cards. His hand shakes slightly. He glances at the cards offered him, then taps twice against the table, looking back up towards the dealer and the pit boss behind him, then over at the others. Really, there's no expression aside from that strange panic which has abated itself.
Griffin doesn't seem to notice any difference while being negated; his ability isn't exactly one to use unless he wants to appear to be a blind man, and usually his ability involves a fairly large amount of people freaking out. He simply sips at his drink, green eyes turning toward Remy as he raises to his feet, a brow arching. Then, he's looking at his own cards, raising a hand and waving it to stay where he is.
Remy's sudden panic draws Gavyn's attention from the dealer. "You alright," she asks, honestly concerned though she's no idea who he is. Hey, the guy said he was Army and even toured the Sandbox. That leads to occasional issues. Even as she asks she looks past him to Griffin, giving the busker a strange look. Then back to the first man, and seeing he's returning to the game, she does the same and looks at her cards. She taps for a hit, though in a distracted sort of way.
Indeed, Remy are you okay? The supervisor seems to have noticed the sudden change with a very displeased look on his face, scribbling something down and tilting the board just so, so that someone behind him can see it. What effect this all has, isn't seen yet, and the dealer keeps going as if nothing has happened. He just deals out the cards, server coming back with Griffin's scotch and placing it on the the edge of the table after taking away the old one, neatly on a napkin.
"Yeah." Then the concern in Gavyn's voice registers. He glances over at her curiously. "That's nice of you to ask." He smiles at her warmly, taken off guard by the sudden kindness. The man with the clipboard is noticed out of the corner of his eye. "Sometimes I just get these flashbacks, y'know." He taps his forehead. "People getting killed in the desert, things like that. I was in active combat against the Taliban near a few of the smaller villages that ended up getting bombed. Was one of the soldiers picked to go over with the UN forces," he glances at his cards and smiles slightly, "Looks like the house wins against me this time." He folds his cards, flipping them up to show twenty-six.
Griffin sips at his scotch, quietly peering over at Remy with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Must have been quite rough." Finally, the man seems to come out of his excruciatingly quiet shell, if only just a little bit. "I couldn't imagine going through what you've been through." Actually, Griffin could, being a former prisoner of the Company, Moab, and now being a part of a presumably terrorist cell, though the public's view of Messiah has been skewed by Rupert Carmichael's betrayal. But he doesn't give voice to that, instead waiting for the dealer to flip his hand.
There may be friendly rivalry between branches of service, but as far as Gavyn's concerned all service members look out for their own. She takes a peek at her cards and taps for another hit without much consideration for what she's been dealt. She looks at Griffin as though he may be insane. It's New York, he may very well be for all she knows. Then a duck of her head has her peeking over her sunglasses at Remy.
Griffin's standing, Remy is out, Gavyn wants some more please, but without the British accent or the bowl of gruel. She gets another card from the dealer even as there's another suit joining the supervisor behind the velvet ropes and talking quietly. The casino is noisy as usual, slots going off, other dealers calling out what's happening and the various sounds that populate a casino.
"I think I'm done for the night, since my money's been doubled and then maybe just fifty percent more than what I started with after that last hand," Remy chuckles softly. He starts to stand as his beer comes. He takes it and drinks it down quickly, subtly eying the manager and the guy he's talking to. Powers don't just disappear like that without someone doing it to them. He's got enough access and clearance to know that. Maybe he should have done a bit more research about who was registered and who wasn't at the casino before coming here. Finishing the beer like a college boy, he stands near the table to watch the outcome.
Keeping an easy — if not nervous — smile on his face, he notes to Gavyn, "After all, I just played the last hand by manipulating chance and probability through adjusting the way that the cards would come out to everyone at the table, through subtle changes in the tides of how fate would play out and through understanding and seeing which card should come out of the machine, therefore allowing me to get the hand I got and the others to get their hands." And thus, Remy announces himself as a cheater. Not only that, but Evolved. "I… don't know why I just said that. I have to go." He looks at the dealer, then up towards the manager. "Now. I have to go now." And he's headed for the door.
Griffin's eyebrows inch slowly up his forehead at the man's sudden confession to cheating, and to being an Evolved. He ends up with a thoroughly wrinkled brow, lifting his scotch and taking a larger gulp. He's back to being quiet for a time, simply staring after Remy as the man hurries away, his mouth hanging open slightly. That was random. And an Evolved that controls fate…that is interesting. And it may be useful. He files away the notion to try and learn about Remy, if he ever gets the chance.
"Well, then. That was certainly…strange." He clears his throat, leaning back in his seat and casting a brief glance toward Gavyn. He certainly doesn't act insane.
Two for two and getting careless besides. Really got to stay on top of that. Gavyn's jaw slowly drops as Remy claims to be a cheat. Not only a cheat but Evolved, too. Her mouth closes again as Remy heads for the door. "Very strange," she agrees. Though the airman knows the cause, she's still shocked that she's slipped not once, but twice in the same night. And is about to again. Before looking back to her cards she looks at Griffin. "Didn't see that coming."
Remy won't get far, he's being followed, suited individuals following him so that they can catch up to him - Poor Remy, your ability still hasn't come back - and have a small chat to what he just confessed. The supervisor of course, has dismissed the dealer. "I'm very sorry, you can see why this play would be invalid with the chance that the gentleman is telling the truth" Griffin's chips that he should have lost this round are pushed back, and the same goes for Gavyn, who could have won or lost. "I'm going to have to close this table. My sincerest apologies. I would hope that you will seek other tables or perhaps the slot machines to play at" Not a suggestion, it's a plain order couched as a suggestion. Please go find some place else to play but at this particular area please.
Remy's chips of course for this hand, go to the house.
Wetting his lips, Remy reaches down into his pocket. He holds at the wallet that's in there; maybe flashing his badge might save him. Who knows. He won't try it unless he really needs to, but at least it's there. Of course, it might just end up getting him killed instead. Or fired. Or imprisoned. Who knows? "Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shouldn't have come here. Fuck." He's telling himself as he walks towards the door. The two suited fellows get a quick glance. He turns back towards them as he backs away towards the door. "No harm, no foul, fellows. You can keep my chips. I won't ever come back, eh? Seem like a good idea? Good plan?" He smiles. It's a panicked, nervous, thin smile.
Taking his chips and pocketing them, Griffin raises to his feet and gathers his drink, turning a warm smile toward Gavyn. "That was rather…random." He glances back in the direction that Remy left, before turning back toward Gavyn. "Well, miss, you seem to be here alone this evening. I am quite certain that you will find me to be incredibly strange for even asking you, and I really don't feel that I should even try to befriend a military woman such as yourself, due to the difficulties that our background differences present."
He smiles thoughtfully to Gavyn. "However, I have a very bad habit of being drawn in by a beautiful pair of eyes, and though I am seeing a lovely woman, I am still going to ask you if you would like to perhaps go to the bar with me in an awkward attempt to make conversation."
His expression turns to one of concern. "But for some reason, my inner monologue seems to be broken, and I am telling you all of this. So I am quite unsure if I'll be asking you to share a drink with me."
Wow, that's awkward. Gavyn, for all intents and purposes, looks positively /horrified/. "Shit," she hisses, poor Griffin the target but not the intent. Those sunglasses are jammed quite firmly into place with a hasty and completely immature and far louder than necessary, "Stop looking at me." She stands in a rush, knocking into her stool and half tripping besides. "—Sorry. I… Just, sorry."
Now Gavyn is getting looked at by the supervisor with two people confessing that they don't know why they said what they did and one dealer who was saying things that she wouldn't ordinarily say. "I suggest, that you both seek your entertainments elsewhere this evening" as Gavyn reacts and knocks over the chair. "Please"
"That sounds like a very good idea sir. why don't you come with us and we'll do that" This isn't Nevada, not LA, and these days, actions are under more scrutiny than ever. Don't worry Remy, they'll just help you turn in the chips, ask for a registration card and send you on your way.
Blacklisted of course.
"Fine, sure." Remy gives a quick laugh. It's without mirth. He gives a nod to the men and moves to draw out his wallet. It shows his badge, his ID as a government agent and also his registration card. Tier 2 registration. Remy Franklin, Probability Manipulation. Department of Evolved Affairs. He wets his lips and swallows, emptying his pocket of the chips - even the ones he purchased. He hands them to the men when they get out of sight. "Right-o. Fair and square. All things settled. I'm off now. Gallivanting around New York, right as rain, all that." He nods towards the door.
Griffin blinks quietly at all of the commotion, his brows raising to wrinkle his forehead once more as he peers at Gavyn. He glances toward the supervisor, frowning. "Yes, I will happily do just that." He nods toward the supervisor, and turns toward Gavyn, a curious expression on his face, now. "…Please, miss, allow me to walk you to your vehicle." He mumbles this out. He's curious. He wants to network. And Gavyn's display has him fascinated.
"That's /really/ not necessary." Gavyn, from behind the safety of her sunglasses, eyes Griffin as she rights the overturned stool. She offers a poorly attempted apologetic look to the supervisor, the dealer, and anyone else who might be around that area. It's quick, she doesn't really care. She's moving on now. "Nice meeting you, excuse me please." She turns, not waiting for any response, and beelines for the door.