Meyer Lansky (
recognize_an_opportunity) wrote in
tampered2013-02-13 06:31 pm
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Entry tags:
[Open Log] Not so very far from here...
When; Around 10 pm on February 13.
Rating; PG-13 I would imagine.
Characters; Meyer Lansky, and anyone who either works at Lucky's or wants to come gamble!
Summary; It's basically just happy fun times at Lucky's. Or unhappy not fun times, if you decide to cheat or break things! Employees, gamblers, random people wanting a drink... all are welcome!
Log; As far as Meyer was concerned, ten at night was the best time to be at Lucky's. Everyone who worked there was there by then, and that meant he could take a break from dealing hands of poker to wander through the small card room and schmooze with the regulars, as well as greet everyone who came through the door.
As he made his rounds, he was solicitous, complimenting one man on how much money he'd won in a lucky game of blackjack, and commiserating with another man on his empty wallet once he'd lost several hands of poker. He was always suggesting people have another drink, stay for a little while longer, see if they couldn't get their luck back. Maybe just one more hand would win them everything.
If you walk through the door, you're likely to see a large crowd, but Meyer will make sure to push his way through it to greet you personally, shake your hand, and suggest that you take a seat. You never know, tonight might be your lucky night...
Rating; PG-13 I would imagine.
Characters; Meyer Lansky, and anyone who either works at Lucky's or wants to come gamble!
Summary; It's basically just happy fun times at Lucky's. Or unhappy not fun times, if you decide to cheat or break things! Employees, gamblers, random people wanting a drink... all are welcome!
Log; As far as Meyer was concerned, ten at night was the best time to be at Lucky's. Everyone who worked there was there by then, and that meant he could take a break from dealing hands of poker to wander through the small card room and schmooze with the regulars, as well as greet everyone who came through the door.
As he made his rounds, he was solicitous, complimenting one man on how much money he'd won in a lucky game of blackjack, and commiserating with another man on his empty wallet once he'd lost several hands of poker. He was always suggesting people have another drink, stay for a little while longer, see if they couldn't get their luck back. Maybe just one more hand would win them everything.
If you walk through the door, you're likely to see a large crowd, but Meyer will make sure to push his way through it to greet you personally, shake your hand, and suggest that you take a seat. You never know, tonight might be your lucky night...
the bar (OTA!)
a bottle broken over their nogginthe watered-down version.For those who think the luck of the venue has rubbed off on them this evening, one might try their luck at wedging a red coin between two stacked shot glasses containing water without spilling a drop. The prize? Free booze for the whole night. The penalty? Dumping out whatever is in the loser's pockets.
Re: the bar (OTA!)
"How's it going?" His voice is low, not wanting to attract attention. He plays the part of a solicitous host just fine, but he's keeping an eye on everyone just as much as Al is, and he's hoping nobody has to get kicked out tonight.
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Aloofness aside, he has to admit that watching Lansky make the rounds has been entertaining to say the least. Al has seen plenty of people work a room, but never has he seen someone be quite so...thorough.
"You want something?"
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He looks around the room once more, then finally relaxes a little. This is supposed to be his break, after all, and he's pretty sure everyone else can keep things under control while he relaxes. He's going to have to start bringing his dinner to work with him -- he hasn't eaten since the afternoon, and he's pretty sure alcohol doesn't count as food.
"I'll have an Old Fashioned. Not too heavy on the alcohol."
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A little extra orange promotes good health and blends the additional bourbon wonderfully.
"What about you-- you run out of wind yet?" he grins, topping off the beverage with some ice before setting it down on the counter.
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That's not entirely true, but he doesn't generally let himself. He's glad to be on a break, but he knows that soon enough he'll go back to trying to juggle ten things at once. For now, leaning against the bar is a hell of a lot better than working the room.
He takes a sip of the drink, not seeming to notice the added alcohol, and nods. "Thanks. You can take a break in awhile, and I'll watch the bar."
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"Nah. I think I've got a better shot keeping money in my pockets back here."
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Not that running a bar is his forte, but he figures he could muddle through it for fifteen minutes or so if Al wanted to go out and have a cigarette or a drink of his own. He takes another, longer sip of the drink, already feeling more relaxed.
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"D'you even know how to mix a drink?" from what he's heard it wouldn't anything Rothstein would ask of his bootlickers. As for learning from family-- he can't even imagine this guy being anything but an end table to set a glass on.
I just laughed out loud at that last sentence
He sounds almost offended. Sure, he can't mix a drink as well as Al can, but there's just certain things you have to know how to do, and he counts that as one of them, like playing poker or knowing how to fire a gun accurately.
:D
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ahhhhhhh I'm so sorry.
Re: No apologies necessary!
open to threadjacking
"Hello, sir," he says amiably through a thick Russian accent. "Stoli, please?"
Re: Totes threadjacking once Chekov gets his drink
"I'm glad you could make it," he replies, smiling genuinely. Chekov may be young, but Meyer knows better than to underestimate anyone who's young -- after all, they're just about the same age, and he never underestimates himself, either.
^_^
"I had no reason not to come. It was this or spending the evening trying to make up for two centuries of lost science." His tone is joking, but Chekov really does spend a fair amount of his spare time attempting to recreate twenty-third century technology with twenty-first century equipment and materials. It's a losing battle; the City has, thus far, not proved to be a great source of dilithium.
The young man raises his untouched drink to Meyer. "Nazdarovye."
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He nods in response to the raised drink, wishing he had a drink of his own, but he'd decided to only have one drink each night, and he'd already had it. "I'll choose to be flattered that you chose my business over lost science."
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It's all quite interesting, statistically and psychologically speaking.
Chekov downs his drink and declines a second. "And you should be flattered. I have also chosen to be here over being with Lucy." He's hesitant to call her his girlfriend due to her fear of commitment, but Meyer should get the point. "What is the expression? Something about absence and the heart. I'm operating upon that principle."
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Partially because Meyer is curious to meet everyone in the City, and partially because he thinks that if he meets Lucy, he can probably get her to at least buy a drink, thus getting more money out of the bargain. It would also ensure Chekov as a repeat customer, and repeat customers are what makes this business run.
Meyer has a soft spot in his heart for statistics, mainly because he entirely taught them to himself. His mind is quick and nimble in mathematics, but very few people have ever noticed it. Most of his business partners back home see him as a glorified accountant who occasionally has good strategies. He'd like to break away from that image here.
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Chekov adores Lucy and is constitutionally incapable of saying no to her. She's a bit of a party girl; if she wanted to buy the entire bar and it was within Chekov's means, he would buy it for her. She has money of her own, of course, but it would be ungentlemanly for him to allow her to spend it. Regardless, he regrets not bringing her along tonight. He was hoping that a little alone time would make Valentine's Day more rewarding.
It's very sad, being so infatuated with a girl that even a night out alone is full of thinking of her, but it's a decent kind of sad.
Should Meyer ever want to talk statistics, he would have a captive audience. Chekov interests are many and varied and he enjoys discussing them with others who appreciate the subjects and have a solid understanding of them. Meyer has already proven that he can handle numbers. Operating any profitable gambling establishment is proof enough of that and, from what he has seen, this establishment is indeed profiting.
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Unless one is good with business, of course, and Meyer considers himself to be a budding businessman. Perhaps not at the level he'd like to be at, especially in the City, limited as it is. Back home, although he was under Rothstein's watchful eye, which he chafed against more and more, he had the possibility for expansion. Here, a decently profitable casino was probably all he was ever going to have, and he'd have to make peace with that somehow.
"Did you meet Lucy here in the City, or did you know her back home?"
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Speaking of Lucy... "I never knew anyone like her at home. I'm cursed; very few women think of me as anything but a sibling who needs to be fussed over, and even fewer are half so beautiful and funny as Lucy is."
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That is, however, his humble opinion. It's merely a perk when the client is early enough that their drinks may have otherwise been free. He doesn't bother to inquire, just pours the vodka.
"Had any luck at the tables tonight?"
Sorry for being so late!
He smiles pleasantly. "I have watched games, but I have not played any. Meyer may not appreciate that."
No worries. My inbox decided to bury this >.<
"Maybe not. You a friend of his?"
The same grade school class, maybe?
Aha, this happens to me too.
"I would like to think so. He invited me to come here even after I explained that I avoid gambling; that, to me, seems to be an exceedingly friendly gesture."
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"Yeah, well. Having a full house always looks good."
Seriously, kid, there are other ways in this world to get swindled.
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