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Post by Evangeline Redwood on Oct 20, 2012 12:25:53 GMT -8
Evangeline couldn't help but notice the way Kydd was admiring her, like a love struck puppy. It was flattering as much as it was adorable. He was a goog looking kid, no doubt, but not her type. She was far too fixated on the Mississippi Native now working on her ranch. That look on his face was endearing, much the same way she looked at Aaron Anderson when his back was turned. She fixed Kydd with the same fiery gaze, her sweet Southern drawl rolling from between red lips. "Baby, ya might want to close your lips before the flies start flyin; in." She teased.
A high rollers game? Excellent. That definitely meant most of the rabble would leave them alone. She reached into her purse, hand hovering inside when Mr. Holt offered to pay her ante for her. She fixed him with a sweet but sly smile before easily pulling out fifty dollars in gold coins and placing them on the table. "I think I can cover it, Mr. Holt. But I appreciate your hospitality. The war was rough on everyone else, but the Gentleman Rebel's family thrived. Not only was Papa a general and gettin' his pay for that, we also sold horses to both sides. I was lucky to never want for nothin'."
She watched Mr. Holiday shuffle the cards, keeping a careful eye on it, more out of habit than a real fear that he would attempt to cheat, "Unless you gentlemen would prefer something a little less,,,"
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Post by anskee5 on Oct 20, 2012 14:34:16 GMT -8
The game started around seven that evening and Doc was hot. Extraordinarily hot, winning hand after hand. But by nine O'Clock Holliday was down almost eleven thousand dollars. When he held a decent hand the other players held better cards. When he bluffed, someone always called with cards too good to fold. His hot streak abruptly turned cold.
Holliday was not superstitious nor did he subscribe to any of the ridiculous rituals practiced by many gamblers to reverse bad fortune such as walking around his chair three times or changing seats or any of the mumbo jumbo some thought would change their luck. To him it was an exercise in the absurd. He had learned a long time ago that when the deck went cold a wise man went home. Under similar circumstances he had seen seasoned gamblers lose all they had won and dig into their pockets for more. To him, after a string of second-best hands, the sign was clear to read. Tonight was not his night.
Still he found it difficult to quit when he was so far ahead. His forty thousand in winnings had dwindled to about thirty thousand, but it remained a sizable score. But for a gambler of his stature to walk away when the cards went sour would be considered bad form, poor sportsmanship. There was a certain etiquette to gambling , and a man's standing within the sporting crowd hinged upon such things. He would not sully his reputation. He simply waited for the next hand to be dealt.
Pulling out a cigarillo he lit it up and blew the smoke into the air above their table. He watched the others closely as they shuffled and dealt. None were cheating, not even Holt, and he was quite sure Holt knew how.
"Gus!" he called over to the bartender. "Another bottle, please sir," he ordered.
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Post by mike on Oct 25, 2012 23:16:14 GMT -8
Mike watched with amusement as most of the money seemed to be piling up in front of Evangeline.
"Must be Lady Luck on your side tonight, Miss Redwood," he smiled at her. He was down a considerable amount himself but was still very much in the game. "You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself as well there, Kydd," he teased the young man with a chuckle. "You ready for a refill, there Buddy," he patted him on the shoulder as he poured them both the last of the bottle that he possessed. "Make that two bottles, Gus!" he called over to the bartender. "Tell me, dear lady," he took Evangeline's delicate hand and kissed the back of it. "What is your secret? You must have one. Either that or the cards are ashamed to allow such a lovely face such as yours to be saddened and leave the game." He gave her a bright smile as he flirted with her.
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Post by kydd on Oct 29, 2012 15:10:36 GMT -8
Casper Kydd wanted to pinch himself. Not so much for the fact he were up in a game against players of the calibre of Doc Holliday and Mike Holt - though that made him positively giddy - but it was the plain simple joy of such an exhilarating game of cards. Something about playing the odds, the players, the cards and the chances made it a pure pleasure especially when it was classic game fare as the game had turned out to be.
Though lest he got carried away, Kydd had to remind himself that though he was up he wasn’t exactly amassing a fortune however he felt more assured and confident as the game played and less the bumbling fool when he was pretending the part he envisioned for himself as a high-roller.
The additional presence of Evangeline only but made the entire endeavour all the more heavenly and blissful an experience. He had to pinch himself when he looked at her too.
“Not too bad sir, not too shabby at all.” But he was a little more reluctant about the offer of drink. He didn’t react well to it and had to make sure that the alcohol didn’t dull his wits but similarly he did not want to lose face in front of Holt and the others by declining. “Yeah sure.”
He listened to Mike sweet talk the lovely Evangeline. Kydd tried to rise himself to try beginning some conversation with the woman but always felt too tongue tied to even try. It was enough to not trip over his tongue as was. He also wanted to try and engage Doc Holliday in some conversation too.
“So - eh - have you been staying in Del Fuego long Doc? And have you any plans for moving on?” Kydd hoped he was being casual enough and certainly he hoped he wasn’t being too pushy in asking such details from Doc.
(ooc: sorry if I'm cutting in over Nicole but I know my activity has been low and I know that later in the week I won't be able to get on so just put in my little bit of side conversation - Doc doesn't need to respond if it doesn't suit)
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Post by Evangeline Redwood on Oct 30, 2012 7:08:46 GMT -8
Evangeline had started out a little colder than she was used to, losing quick in the first few hands and watching her money stack up in front of Doc Holiday. But as time went on, luck seemed to change sides, and soon it was Mr. Holiday's money piling up in front of her. Powers of observation had allowed her to pick up tells, everyone had one. Even Evangeline had one, a nervous habit of tapping her nails, which is why she kept her other hands delicately in her lap under the table.
She allowed Mr. Holt to have her hand and she laughed, a soft coquettish laugh, batting long lashes at him. Most women who had grown up with the old ways of the south were good at poker, for one reason. "Allow me to tell y'all a story." She cleared her throat, taking a sip of her drink, before beginning to speak once more, directed to the whole table, though her eyes were focused on Mr. Holt. "When I came out into society I was 15. I already knew that the role I was condemned to, namely to keep quiet and do what I was told, gave me the perfect opportunity to listen and observe. Not to what people told me, which naturally was of no interest, but to whatever it was they were tryin' to hide. I practiced detachment. I learned how to look cheerful while under the table I stuck a fork into the back of my hand."
She smirked a little wider, breaking her gaze only when the bartender came with two bottles. She picked up one, refilling Mr. Holt's glass, though her eyes stayed locked on his blue. "I became a virtuoso of deceit. It wasn't pleasure I was after, far from it, it was knowledge. I consulted the strictest moralists to learn how to appear, philosophers to find out what to think, and novelists to see what I could get away with, and in the end, I distilled everything to one wonderfully simple principle, one very much like our little poker game here: win or die."
She laid down another hand, a royal flush. "And before you start thinkin' poorly of me, you must look at my situation. I really had no choice. I'm a woman. Women are obliged to be far more skillful than men. You can ruin our reputation and our life with a few well-chosen words. So, of course, I had to invent, not only myself, but ways of escape no one has every thought of before. And I've succeeded because I've always known I was born to dominate your sex and avenge my own. " She took another sip of her drink, eyes trained still on the blue of Mr. Holt.
"And that's why I'm so damned good a poker." She winked before turning away and looking back to the rest of the table.
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Post by anskee5 on Oct 30, 2012 17:01:09 GMT -8
Doc was trying very hard to concentrate on the game but knew the tipsy Kydd meant no harm. He was just a curious young fellow who idolized him, or at least idolized who he thought he was. In reality he was no better than Mike Holt. He was a shootist just as Mike was. Had it been him instead of Mike playing that buffalo skinner he's killed him just as surely as Mike had done. The difference was he could kill without blinking an eye. In fact, he goaded the protagonist, who was usually drunk and filled with rage from loosing, into making the first move. It was not that Doc was a fast draw, he was not. He learned a long time ago that a quick draw did not necessarily mean an accurate aim. Being accurate was one hundred percent better than being fast. He had seen fast draws shoot everything but their intended target and so he practiced accuracy. Out of all the men he had killed Doc had only been shot five times. Unfortunately for the targets they were one hundred percent dead.
“So - eh - have you been staying in Del Fuego long Doc? And have you any plans for moving on?”
"Ahh," Doc seldom spoke about his plans to anyone for fear attempting to dissuade him with force. "Yes, I stay here at the Blackbird," he told Kydd. That much was something most people already knew. "No, I hadn't planned on going anywhere as of yet. I'll take three cards," he told whoever was dealing. Discarding three cards he picked up the three that had been dealt him. Doc was a master at the poker face. No one could tell whether his hand was good or not. He had a full house, three sevens and two jacks. Placing his bet he then called.
She laid down another hand, a royal flush. "And that's why I'm so damned good a poker." She winked before turning away and looking back to the rest of the table.
Evangeline's hand blew everyone out of the water. Without so much as a grimace Doc watched as the stack of money was delicately raking into her rising pile of money. All he did was pour more whiskey into his glass and light yet another cigarillo. Lady Luck had not turned his way as of yet, it seemed.
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Post by mike on Nov 2, 2012 11:39:00 GMT -8
"And before you start thinkin' poorly of me, you must look at my situation. I really had no choice. I'm a woman. Women are obliged to be far more skillful than men. You can ruin our reputation and our life with a few well-chosen words. So, of course, I had to invent, not only myself, but ways of escape no one has every thought of before. And I've succeeded because I've always known I was born to dominate your sex and avenge my own. " She took another sip of her drink, eyes trained still on the blue of Mr. Holt.
"And that's why I'm so damned good a poker." She winked before turning away and looking back to the rest of the table.
Mike roared with laughter when she laid her hand down. He had a measly trip threes. Enough to beat Doc but not enough to beat Evangeline.
"You are a good player," he said to her. "I wonder what Lady Luck would say about my chances with you tonight?" he gave her a radiant smile. "You are a tantalizing woman. You make a man hungry to taste your lovely delights. Please say you will."
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