Participants:
| Scene Title | Jasmine, Rims, Cardinal And A Brit |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Shooters is popular tonight. And Tuck, is a little more flush with spending money. |
| Date | March 2, 2009 |
A place that used to be a cafe and is making a slow progression towards being a dive bar. During the day, the balcony and a good portion of the sidewalk is taken up by outdoor chairs and tables, where people can enjoy a beer as well as a sandwich or whatever else is on their menu - a decent, if simply array of bar food. During the evening, unless it's a warm night, these are taken inside, and the kitchens are closed. A wide variety of beer is available, along with hard liquor and maybe a few wine labels, but nothing fancy. The interior decor is similar to traditional British pubs, with a hardwood bar and brick wall. There's an old pool table towards the back, along with a dart board. The building is actually two storeys high, but whatever is upstairs is inaccessible to the general public.
It's a particularly busy night at Shooters, despite the fact that it's a Monday. Then again, the criminal element of Staten Island don't exactly function on a nine-to-five, Monday thru Friday schedule.
Gilbert Tucker is currently at his regular spot by the pool table. He swings the cue back and forth and raps it against the table. "C'mon now. Any takers? Step riiiight up to Tuck's Magic World of Pool. Fifty bucks. See if you can take me. Oyez Oyez and…such." He rolls a wrist.
Given the dirty looks he's getting from all corners of the room, the pool shark's just about run through Shooters' current compliment.
"I don't think that it counts as sharkin' anymore if everyone knows you can school 'em under the table, Tuck," Cardinal drawls from a chair not too far away — when he got there, well, who can say, he's a sneaky sort've guy — that's tilted back onto two legs, his shoulders against the wall, a bottle of beer in his hand. His shades are sitting on the table beside him, revealing bloodshot eyes shadowed beneath deeply with weariness. Someone's had a long week.
"I'll take it" Comes from one corner of the bar, femmmine voice. A few men that are between Nalani and Tuck with his pool table look back and then part like the red sea as the leggy brunette makes her way forward. She's used makeup and such, to alter her features enough, no flashy makeup, but with all that skill available within her business, they did a damn good job dumbing down her beauty. The rest was all clothing. Stephanie was flabberghasted when they slipped intoa goodwill as opposed to Gucci or some other label store. "Make it a hundred"
"Yes, well," concedes Tuck. He pushes air between his cheeks to make a squeaky sound. "I started out as a shark, you know…dorsal fin up," he puts two hands together around his back. "But the cellos gave me away. That and a few dismembered corpses." He picks up a pint glass full of something bubbly and non-alcoholic. He takes a moment to examine Cardinal. "You're not looking too hot there, birdman. Hope you have some good loot to show for it."
He turns as Nalani approaches. He tilts his head and peers at her over his glasses. Like some kind of professor. Well, a really funky professor with mussy hair and plastic framed glasses. "Well there, Jasmine. You're new, aren't you? Working for Logan?" That might get him slapped, but it's important to know if he'd be sharking money out of Logan's pocket by proxy.
"I've been dealin' in favors this week," Cardinal replies with a shrug of one shoulder, bringing the bottle back to his lips and tilting it to take a hearty swallow of the beer — eyes closing briefly, opening as he brings it back down to thump to his knee, starting to say something else. Then they're interrupted, and there's the mention of Logan, and he cuts himself off to take in the brunette with a careful, appraising gaze.
Nalani's lips moue out, a slight pout as she peers over Tucks shoulder towards the table. "Logan's hands are not in my.. back pockets. New though, new enough" She heard about Logan. Happy Dagger, whore house. The brown eyes of the Arabic woman settle on the pawn shop owner again as she slips around him. "But thanks for the compliment" There's a squat glass in hand, whiskey it seems is Nalani's drink of choice. "You going to keep asking questions, or you going to put your money where your mouth is big boy?" Nalani galnces over at Cardinal, eyeing him up and down. "go get me a stick would you? A lucky one, from the rack"
"Well, if you're not a working gal, what brings you to Staten, mm?" Tuck pushes the glasses up on his nose with his thumb, then proceeds to rack up the balls. "Hundred bucks. My buddy Card here'll hold the cash, if that's good by you?" He digs into his pocket and tugs out a few rumpled bills. Earlier winnings. "Don't worry, he wouldn't take off with the cash. He needs my business.
It's with a rough chuckle that Cardinal sets the beer down, pushing himself up to his feet. He stretches a bit, twisting at the waist and neck, then walks along over to the rack to dance his fingers over the sticks, picking one up and giving it an easy toss towards Nalani. "G'luck," he drawls out, "And yeah, sure, I ain't going anywhere."
Nalani catches the cue as it's tossed towards her. Easily the long stick is tucked under her arm as she leans forward, enough to fish a hand between her breasts. Out comes a modest little roll that was flush between her breasts. Five of the bills are plucked out and passed to cardinal before they're tucked back down into their resting spot. "Same thing that brings everyone else to Staten there Rims. Some fun, danger and entertainment" She flips her long braid behind her back, gesturing to the table. "I'll be nice, you can go first"
"…boobytrap," murmurs Tuck in a distracted way. He clears his throat and rock-steps over towards Cardinal. The rumpled bills are passed over. "Well there sweetie, you'll get the danger. Remains to be seen about the fun and entertainment part. Depends on what your definition of those two particular terms happens to be." He grabs for the cue ball and tosses it up into the air. Then he finds a spot for it on the table, recoils and gives the balls a firm break. He is good. Three solids drop into the pockets.
"Nice tits," Cardinal observes rather shamelessly, reaching out to accept the bets, rumpled bills smoothed out on the edge of the pool table and laid together, folded up neatly. The man sprawls back into his chair, giving the girl a slow once-over, brow furrowing as if something was on the tip of his tongue.
"Thanks, They're not made in China either" Sunk three right off the bat. He's solids, and she's now stripes. Nalani looks between the loved felt and Tuck. "No wonder no one stepped up, don't you ever get nervous while playing? That someone might some day might win over you and for a lot more than just fifty or a hundred bucks" She's testing it out, seeing what she can get away with with regards to Tuck. The whiskey is brought to her lips, a good mouthful disappearing between her lips before it's put down near Cardinal for safekeeping. No roofies, kkthnx?
"I live in a perpetual state of high nerves, m'dear. And I worry about a lot more than if someone'll beat me in pool." Like some gangster will finally decide Tuck's not worth the trouble. Or he'll find out his kid's dead. Or someone will out him. On someone else, the little fake-out might work. All a subtle command like that does to Gilber Tucker is make him sink one solid instead of two. That sets him up for a near-impossible shot. He doesn't make it, but he does put the cue ball into a very awkward position for Nalani. He glances over to Cardinal, then nods towards Nalani. The unspoken question is 'what do you make of her?'
At the glance, Cardinal shrugs one shoulder — not much of an opinion yet, it seems. He smirks just a little, though, suggesting that maybe he's not terribly impressed thus far. Another swallow of beer's taken, even as he tries to get a look at her ass when she bends over. Don't mind the peanut gallery.
"What do you worry about? And for that matter, what are you doing on this island?" Not Nalani's turn yet. So instead she leans against the table beside Cardinal, one elbow supporting her as she keeps her eye on the table. "And you" Directed at Cardinal. "i'll take your phone number, tall dark and handsome" A glance to him then back to the table.
"What do you worry about? And for that matter, what are you doing on this island?" Nalani's turn! She leans against the table beside Cardinal, one elbow supporting her for a moment to pull from her drink again. "And you" Directed at Cardinal. "i'll take your phone number, tall dark and handsome" A glance to him then back to the table that she finally makes her way to. Shit. He stuck her good. But it's not impossible. The back of her jeans pull down a bit as she leans over. What was hidden beneath a long jacket sleeve is easily seen now, a cast on her wrist, but that doens't seem to hinder the woman as she shifts, aligns, and fires off the cue ball to ricochet and sink a striped ball. Sheer luck, she knows it, nothing more. But it sets her up again in another awkward position. This time, not so successful and only serves to stick the cue ball next to the eight.
"I live here. Have for the past…fifteen years. Before it exploded," says Tuck. He leans on his cue and darts a gaze left and right as he curiously checks to see if anyone's paying them any attention. She might not be one of Logan's girls, but she could still be working for someone who wants something from him.
"What do I worry about? Getting my throat slit because I crossed someone." Sorry Nal. He's a guy who walks on his secrets, they're pushed down so far. A little casual persuasion isn't going to dig them up.
He takes a moment to survey the table, then, in a marvellous display of a mis-spent youth, he makes the cue ball hop over the eight and strike a solid. The red ball is sent rolling towards the pocket, hovers a second, then drops in.
On the other hand, it's not like Cardinal loses anything from the suggestion tossed his way. "Only if I get yours," he replies with a cocky grin, chin raising up to her amiably—whistling at the strike, then, both brows raising up, "Nice hit, Tuck."
Hugh has arrived.
"I think I could be persueded to give you my number" Nalani's not surprised by the sinking of the ball, She didn't decide to play to win, she's not a shark like Tucker seems to be. It's just an idle past time that they did when she was modeling. Playing pool was better than running around and snorting coke and downing champagne. "Fifteen years means you know the island good then?" Possible jackpot there in tucker. Nalani is back at her spot, leaning against a table, left wrist in a cast, beside cardinal. Tucker's busy sinking shots at the pool table and kicking Nalani's ass at the game.
"Ye-eees. I know the island. Why, are you looking for information?" Suddenly Tuck's on his guard again. He eyes Nalani for a moment, then returns to examining the table. A handful of solids are sunk before Nalani gets the table back. He's only got one solid and the eight left to clear the table.
The number-exchanging gets a bit of an eyeroll and mock-longsuffering look from the pawnie. "Oh you kids. Now go add each other on Facebook."
"Hey, you're the one who bet cash instead've ass, Tuck, not my fault," Cardinal replies with aplomb, although for all the casual flirtation he still looks rather exhausted; shifting to stretch out in the chair, legs straightening under the table, one ankle resting over the other, an arm folding behind his head.
And in comes Hugh, looking….rather vague. Not gone, but tired and weary and a little uncertain. He's dressed plainly, but not in the rags of desperate poverty, and heads for the bar, making a beeline for the booze.
"Always good to know a local, nothing more. Don't worry, i'm not going to cause you trouble. I told you already, i'm just here to have a little fun. And loose a hundred dollars" She's not gonna win this game, btu she'll give it a try. Glimpse of lower back, the top of her ass and… is that a butterfly tattoo? Cardinal and in turn Hugh, are privy to that. Nalani sinks to shots, tapping the cast on the table before she goes for a third and .. sinks the cue ball instead. "Back at you"
"Skee-ratch," says Tuck as he circles around to snatch the white ball from the pocket. He sets the ball in the perfect place to whack down both his last remaining solid and the eight ball in one smooth motion. "Too bad. And here I was, thinking you were going to surprise me." He sounds…almost disappointed. Then he walks over to Cardinal, holds out his hand and snaps. Gimmiegimmie.
Ah, the butterfly effect in action. Cardinal cranes his neck… and thus misses the last shot, though the words from Tuck draw a low chuckle from him. Into his jacket goes his hand, producing the winnings and offering them with a flourish, "And the winner, and still champeen… Tucker!"
Tramp Stamp ahoy. Not that Hugh, the married man, would ever dare give that a second glance. But Drake, however, not married. So he takes an admiring look, even as he flicks a hand impatiently at the bartender.
"Well, you could tell me where I can find this.. fight club i've been hearing about. I don't mind watching a good fight, and being that your a long term resident, strikes me that you might just know where a girl can find a guy to go on the arm of to see the action. Hell, Maybe you'd care to accompany me to the next one" Nalani smiles coyly at Tucker as she finishes the last of her whiskey and bats her eyes at Cardinal. "Get me another whiskey once your done putting the cue stick away?//" She does the whole tilt, pluck money from between her breasts and passes over enough to get her and him a drink.
"Thankyew, thankyew," Tuck bows deeply, then relinquishs his cue. Some other folk would like to play. Big folk with tattoos. So he moves off and towards an empty table not far from where Hugh has claimed a spot at the bar. He's fleeced half of the Rookery tonight, so he's happy.
He works his mouth side-to-side at Nalani's words. "You don't want to go there," he says as he drinks from a bubbly pint of Sprite. "And you really don't want to go there with me, Jasmine." She hasn't given her name, so apparently he's dubbed her.
A bark of laughter from Cardinal, as he levers himself up to his feet once more — cracking his neck to one side, then the other, "You must have some kinda death wish, babe, if you're lookin' for that place." The stick's taken, and he steps over to rack it up, shaking his head with a hint of amusement rattling past his lips.
Hm. That has Hugh orienting with almost dreamy slowness on the others. In a crisp English accent, he wonders, "Fight club, huh? What's this about?"
English. Accent. Another one of her countrymen. "Not a deathwish. I just like a little action. I hear it's the thing to see out here. But fine, not on your arm" Nisha was going to take them anyways. Though enter the englishman and Nalani looks over, a near purr in her throat. "Hello handsome. It's ever so nice to hear another blood countrymans voice" her right hand's fingers do a round of stacatto taps on the tabletop while Cardinal fetches drinks.
"Now now. We all know what the first rule of fight club is, don't we?" Tuck drawls and glances from Nalani over to Hugh. Har har. "It is not a place to see or be seen if you're snooping. You're liable to end up in the ring." And that's not a pretty place to be.
A whiskey's set down on the table, and Cardinal sprawls out in a chair with his own beer — leaning forward to rest an arm on the table, observing casually, "So who're our new English friends, Tuck?"
"I can say the same," Hugh says, lazily, lifting his glass to her in salute. To Tuck he wonders, "Snooping, eh? What if you're interested in joining?" he suggests, lazily.
"I'm your wet dream, he's likely your nightmare" A gesture to Hugh. "I don't want to join. I want to see if I can't make some money off of them. I might have someone who would be interested in.. partaking physically, while I do so, financially. I like.. taking chances sometimes. But, that's fine" Cardinal recieves a blown kiss from nalani, in thanks for the drink he brought her back. Hugh though, the Arabic woman studies him from top to bottom. "You have anything special to bring to it?"
Tuck glances between the three of them. He's still for a moment, expression difficult to read. Then he flicks his hands up in the air and waves them in Hugh's direction. "Whoa whoa. What do I look like? The Staten Island Fucking Information Booth? I shouldn't even be talking about this shit to you people." He stands abruptly and goes to the bar to get a refill on his…sprite. Hard partier, he is.
A cluck of Cardinal's tongue to his palate, and he settles in with a lean against the table to sip his own drink; falling silent for now, just regarding the two unknowns with a vaguely amused expression on his face. Sip.
Hugh says, gruffly, "I'm no freak, if that's what you're asking. No need to be. Served in the SAS for years, I'm up for handling any pack of sideshow oddities."
'Well, you would look dashing in a vest and a little top hat" Nalani purr's towards tucker. But enough is enough and she's played long enough. A pen is produced from inside her denim jacket, held over to cardinal and a bar napkin reached for. "Your number please" A wink offered up before she lets a smile blaze towards Hugh. "Good luck in there. Maybe I'll see you there"
Tuck walks back to the table with a glass of something that might've been a Bloody Mary, were it not for the fact that it looks all blood and no Mary. Tomato juice. "Listen. You want to find the fight club? Just go talking about it real loud. You'll get all the info you need." Hard to tell if he's being sarcastic or not.
A pen's pulled from Cardinal's jacket, twirled 'round in his fingers and a number's sketched there. "It's just a pity you two'll be dead soon, the rate you're goin'," he drawls out, sliding the napkin back, "You seemed like nice folks."
"What's the big secret? If it's not done for entertainment and money, then what's it for? One man's perverted pleasure?" Hugh wonders, glancing between them. "I mean, it's all WildWest out here anyway, so it's not as if the filth'll be shutting it down."
"Oh, don't worry about me" Nalani takes the number, tucking it away with a 'i'll call you' smile. "Besides, I only came to make sure there was one. I have other avenues in" She glances to Hugh then back to tuck and Cardinal as she pushes up from the chair and table. "I think this dandy can take care of himself anyways. Enjoy your winnings Rims. It was nice to loose to you. Treat yourself to something nice hmm?" With that, the brunette, leaving her half finished glass behind, heads for the door. Oddly, two men who seemed to fit in with the bar's patron fall into place behind her.
"Look, Britty. You can find someone else to tell you all about the fight club. I value my neck too much and I'm not gonna be the one spreading rumours." Tuck seats himself again and leans elbows on the table. He watches Nalani as she heads towards the door. "Whatcha think? Someone from the mainland slumming it? Either that or she's some mobster's girlfriend." This to Cardinal as he swallows a mouthful of juice.
"She's got two tails," Cardinal says in quiet tones, bringing the beer up to his lips and swirling about the contents at the bottom of it without — noticably, anyway — watching her go, "She's either slummin' it or she's workin' for someone. You catch 'er name at all?"
Hugh says, with a shake of his head, "Not me." He shrugs at Tuck, trying to keep a sneer from his features.
"Nope. She avoided that real nice. I don't think she's ever gonna call you there, Cardie. But sure looks like you had fun flirting." Tuck quirks a grin, then pats the thief on the shoulder. "Listen. Gotta get back to the shop. Y'coming to the next poker game?"
"A man's got t'keep in practice, eh? Besides, I've got a hot li'l number on the mainland if I need a booty call," Cardinal banters easily, seemingly not minding whether or not he was being pumped for information - or not - as he takes a swig of beer, gesturing vaguely with the bottle to Tuck, "I'll be there. Assuming the island's still standing then."
Hugh eyes Cardinal. "And do you know about this fight club?" he asks, bluntly.
"A girl in every port there, eh Red?" Tuck's lips curl into a grin. "My friend, at this rate this island's going to survive a nuclear holocaust. It is the cockroach of cockroaches. It'll never been destroyed, just reconfigured a little. Trust me." He sets his half-empty glass of juice down, then shrugs on his jacket. "Have a good one, kid." He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, pinches it between his lips, gives Hugh one more look, then heads for the door.
Cardinal exhales a low chuckle, bringing a bottle in his hand up as a toast to Tuck's words — his other hand rubbing against his face to push back the weariness for a bit, "Mmhm. S'pose you're right — an' hell, everyone does. Just kick around th'Rookery long enough, buddy, and you'll find it. You seem more th'sort than Butterfly was."
Hugh makes an odd little gesture with his hands. Not quite a 'bring it on', but.
"Your funeral, my man," Cardinal replies in wry tones, pushing himself up to his feet then, a bit unsteady. From the drink, or lack of sleep, it's hard to tell. "Not my scene, personally."
 March 2nd: I Hate Lawyers |
 March 2nd: Lost |