tampered | Log: Complete

Log: Complete

When; August 18th
Rating; PG? Will edit as needed
Characters; Frederick Abberline and Faye Valentine
Summary; Meeting for cards.
Log;

Frederick was much more comfortable with the return of all his clothing (it was interesting that in his 'assigned' room, a wide variety of his personal belongings including a large chunk of his wardrobe had appeared in the 'oops' boxes) - nakedness on his own time in private was one thing, but to know there was simply no option due to some great cosmic prank was unnerving. Even with Victoria, most of their intimate time still involved... layers. It didn't help that he was pale (even for an Englishman) and had a history of malnutrition due to his addictions.

Miss Valentine's apparent fascination with his nude form perplexed him. However, she was friendly, and he was without a great many friends or even acquaintances in the city. He sat at a small table in the cozy, casual cafe, absently rolling a cigarette (being so expert at it by this time that he hardly had to look down at his hands), awaiting Faye's arrival.

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"Exactly," she replied, shuffling the remaining cards and feeling quite positive that he hadn't noticed her slip an ace into the sleeve of her sweater. If there was one thing she was proud of, it was her quick fingers.

Giving him a pointed grin, she took a sip of her coffee. "Blackjack hands are scored by their point total," she continued, as if she were reading from an instruction manual. She had played and cheated so many times she probably could have written one. "The game relies heavily on chance, of course, and skill, which is essential to winning. Or, at least, trying to win."

He nodded, listening, and remembering. It wasn't too complicated of a game, and seemed to require more common sense than anything. If you got too low of a card, get another, if you go too high, don't. The risk element came in that if you went over, you lost without ever getting started.

"All right. Shall we?"

She smiled again, and extinguished her cigarette. The cards were already laid out in front of them: both of his were face up and one of hers remained face down. "I'll be dealer," she said, remembering a long, long time ago when she had worked at that casino and things had all gone to Hell.

"I'm afraid I don't have any money, but if you'd like to wager on something I'd be happy to accept the challenge. I'm hard pressed not to make a bet, it seems."

Abberline nodded. He had a three and a five. "I'll take another," he said vaguely, not having any idea of the terminology.

"I don't have anything either - if you'd like to name something within reason I'll consider it."

He sounded a bit confused, but Faye ignored it, dealing him another card which happened to be an eight. "Eight and eight is sixteen," she said, gesturing to his new card and glancing up. "Would you like to hit or stand?"

"It seems we're a couple of poor fools," said Faye with a snort, taking another drink. "I'm pretty sure that nothing I suggest would be within reason. And you probably know that. If you think of anything, be my guest."

Abberline pondered, and then shrugged. It was too early for common sense, anyway. "Hit, I suppose," he said, sounding as if he thought the terms for it were silly.

"Playing for fun should be suitable, hm?"

Faye dealt him another card, and was pleased when it came up as an ace. "We'll play aces as one," she said, "for your benefit right now, or else you'd be out. So... seventeen? Again or...?"

Faye's only response was to pull out another cigarette. "Your wish. Got a light?" She cocked an eyebrow playfully at him, feeling more comfortable in this city than she had since she had gotten here. Gambling really did do a woman wonders.

Abberline sat back, and pulled out a match, striking it and lighting Faye's cigarette. He pondered quietly for a moment, and half-smiled.

"All right, if you win this hand, we can go back to my flat and play for articles of clothes. And I'll stay at seventeen."

The smoke was thick as she returned his smirk to him, feeling the ace in her sweater, just against her wrist, poke her enticingly. "Why Inspector Abblerine, what a wager," she said, picking up the card that still remained with its face on the table. The switch was so easy that it was second nature. She didn't even need to think about it and actually took a drag while doing it.

Her first card had been a ten, and an ace made twenty-one. "Blackjack," laughed Faye. So what if she had cheated? There were much better things at stake here, and she knew she was too quick for anyone to notice besides.

Had Frederick noticed her slip, he might have made a crack about law enforcement and punishment - but he had rather counted on her winning. Why shouldn't he enjoy some time with a beautiful woman? He was dead, for Christ's sake, it should be about time for him to relax.

"Weeell now..." he said, eyebrow quirking.

"Well, what?" she asked sweetly, downing her coffee in one go and gathering up the cards with a smart flick of her hair. She looked him over, not minding at all about the game she had just gotten herself involved in. If she played her cards right--which she intended on doing--she would make sure the both of them had a fabulous time. "I'm afraid you're going to have to pay up, Frederick. A bet is a bet."

Her cigarette was only half way down to the filter, so she tapped it off and stuck the rest of it back in her pack with the others. "You'll be leading the way, then?"

He gave her a wry look, but shrugged. He put the cards away and back into his jacket pocket, then stood, waiting for Faye.

"You're a terrible influence," he pointed out.

Faye linked her arm through his, pocketing her cigarettes and allowing him to lead her out of the cafe.

At his comment, she laughed. "Well, I do try. I'm glad that it's having such an effect on you," she said, "because you seem to be going along with it. Of course, I can't influence you without you having the desire in the first place. Naughty, naughty, Inspector." She was teasing, and it was fun.

Frederick gave a short laugh, holding Faye's hand in the crook of his arm. It felt overly familiar to be walking with her that way, but he supposed it was normal. He had read about the progression of such standards (he was remarkably relieved he had not woken up from death in the seventies), but it was still unnerving. Somewhere underneath the layers that years of solitude and bitterness had created was a man who would fully embrace this, the man who had only shown glimpses of himself in the society in which he lived - but not now.

"Perhaps I'm branching out," he said, tossing a sly glance at Faye.

It didn't take long to get them back to building eight, and into his flat (Abberline had to restrain the urge to rattle his neighbor's doorknob menacingly just to be a prat). "Here we are," he said mildly. Somehow, his dwelling had already become cluttered, but in a homely sort of way. The sitting room was still quite orderly and awaiting their presence.

For all intents and purposes, Frederick was a team player, and she liked that. He took Faye's hand when she laced it through his arm and even laughed a bit at what she had said. Looking up at him, she was a bit surprised to find herself momentarily nervous with excitement, almost as if she had woken up and was sixteen again and on some sort of stupid date. But Faye Valentine didn't go on dates, and she reminded herself of that as he led them to what could only be his apartment building.

"It can only be a good thing," she said, playing along. "Maybe we can add some leaves to those branches before too long."

Faye thought that his apartment was comfortable, cluttered and very much not like the past places she had lived, which was why she liked it. She stepped inside, going up on the tips of her toes to stretch, and glanced at Frederick over her shoulder, "Couch is all right to sit on, right?" She didn't know why it wouldn't be.

"Leaves.." he gave another half-smile, and walked into the room, motioning for Faye to take a seat. "Of course," he said. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Abberline momentarily slipped into the small kitchen, and returned with two bottles of some sort of new aged ale that he'd become rather fond of during the slow moments of the day (the buzz drowned out the ticking when the absinthe wore down).

"I don't know," Faye replied, throwing herself down onto his sofa and crossing her legs. The apartment was a little warm for her taste, but that was probably because she was used to living in a freezing ship. She felt a little flushed and was worried that she might start doing something stupid, like sweating, but a pleasant breeze blew in from one of the windows, as if it were on her side. "Some people are stingy with their couches," she finished with a shrug.

He handed her a bottle of what looked like ale but could have been anything in this city. The liquor she'd had since arriving had been unusually strong, so she thought (and maybe hoped) that this stuff would be stronger as well. She got the cap off easy enough, dropping it on the table and scooting over a bit, asking with humor, "What, don't want to sit with me?"

"Stingy with their...? Hm."

Frederick sat down on a chair opposite Faye, a coffee table between them. "Be hard to deal, eh?" He smiled again in what might have been a mischievous fashion, but it was gone quickly. He rolled yet another cigarette, and lit it. He was quite lucky that a store about this place was well equipped with the making of his own preferred items, otherwise he might go mad. It was almost amusing that so many others were so dependent on manufactured goods.

"Would you like to deal again?"

Faye tried hard to look disappointed, but it wasn't the easiest thing to do when he began the game again. Watching him roll his own cigarette, she took a quick drink and placed her bottle on the coffee table, lighting up her own cigarette from before. "Right you are," she replied, holding out her hands for the cards.

"Hand them over, and I'd be obliged."

He did so, and raised his eyebrows. "I'll be watching your fingers this time, Miss Valentine," he said, playing a hunch with a vague hint of a smirk. He settled back, awaiting the game. He wondered a bit how this would progress - he had a significant amount of clothing on, while Faye seemed to be lacking a great deal.

"Why would you have to watch my fingers?" she asked. "Afraid they might turn up someplace unexpected?" Faye smirked and picked up the cards, shuffling a false cut so that the situation would work to her advantage.

Abberline was watching her carefully, but even to her own eyes it looked like she was playing fair. If he caught her this first time, she told herself that she would play the game the right way. But he had to lose more than her--he was wearing far too many layers.

She dealt him two cards, suits up, and then dealt herself the cards she had cut. "Your move, cowboy," she said.

"Not your fingers, darling, your cards." He took a long drag and a swig of his drink. "Nineteen, I'll stay."

She shot him a look and tapped her ashes into an ashtray she found on the table, flipping her second card over. "Two and king. Twelve. I'll hit," she said, and flipped over the next card, which she had placed there herself. She hit once more after it, bringing her total up to twenty. "Oh, so close," she said. "I win."

Abberline quirked and eyebrow again, but said nothing. "You're a very lucky woman, so it seems," he mused, and tossed his failed cards over to her.

And then he removed his shoes.

She gathered his cards as he took his shoes off, shoving them back into the deck and shuffling again. Trying her trick from earlier this time, she slid a ten of spades into her sweater. "Lucky is... a loose term," she said, dealing out the cards. "They used to call me Poker Alice, you know?" Faye didn't feel the need to explain why, though she did feel as if she suddenly got rather quiet.

A quick drink fixed that.

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