folds hand, admitting defeat in this round
Well, I guess that wasn’t the school lay that I’m looking for.
6 Likes
Barkeep! Barkeep! I’ve been here, floating in this corner, waiting too glob long for my chili cheese fries.
[ Barkeep frowns at the beans placed on the bar. ]
You don’t want to accept my perfectly good beans??? So where’s the food? What kind of castle is this? It’s like a poor people’s castle!
[ Barkeep grumbles a reply ].
Not acceptable currency?!? By glob, I’m Duchess Gummibuns!
[ Barkeep grumbles again ]
Never heard of me?!? Take This!
[ Duchess Gummibuns throws all the complementary peanuts into the air ].
[ Barkeep is stunned while Duchess Gumibuns floats over to the card game ]
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Hmmmm, don’t want to alarm you, Piker, but it looks like someone of an angry nature is floating up behind you.
Looks like we might be in for an interesting afternoon, eh chaps? Perhaps we ought to order another round from the barkeep and see where this goes.
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Perhaps. But I’ve found there’s few who’s spirits don’t lighten once they’ve been bitten by the barn mouse.
Turns to greet The Duchess
Bows slightly
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A messenger arrives, hands a missive to the bartender, then leaves.
My dear esteemed gentlesentients,
It is with great regret that I cannot share the pleasure of your company at this time, but I am still in mourning over the tragic loss of my entire family in circumstances that I am certain you will agree are not necessary to discuss.
I have included sufficient funds with this missive to serve as payment for a “round” of beverages for all those present.
Regretfully
Olivier Sylvain, Deforest Hall.
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Timing.
Timing was everything, his father always said. It was the difference between an embarassing story and an amusing anecdote; when bowing to an equal, it was the difference between respect and mockery.
There would be many new entrants to high society present at the Leviathan Club this evening, and Aaaakzeee St-Patrick-Hartbrooke III needed to establish his presence at exactly the right moment to ensure the right impression.
Arriving too early would be a sign of desperation: that one needed to make as many connections as possible within the community of True Citizens.
On the other hand, being announced when everyone else was already present would be a slap on the face to everyone who had arrived already: a suggestion that he was the most important person in the room, which would be challenging and expensive to back up.
A glance; a click. It was not yet time. The cream of society had not risen to the occasion, to be skimmed off by an enterprising gentleman…
St-Patrick-Hartbrooke winced, made note of how much time was available before his departure and resolved to spend that time coming up with a less-tortured metaphor for how he was going to take advantage of the concentration of wealth and power present at the Leviathan tonight.
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Auuuugh, Dick, be a good lad an’ retrieve m’ drink from the bartenner, thassaboy… I seem to h’ve dropped m’ monocle b’neath th’ table an’ I’m havin’ a spot o’ difficulty seein’ straight.
Remind me later, dear boy, t’ thank Mr Sylvawhatsit f’r th’ gernsers… germereros… genermonsit… kindness when he arrives 'n due course.
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[ Duchess Gummibuns wobbles slightly, in her form of an awkward bow ]
Well, this is totally like that famous painting or some junk! A Space Feline, a Space Hound, and a Space Beardo, all together playing cards. Glob, that’s so fresh.
I’m Duchess Gummibuns! I’m, like, famous and stuff, so I’m sure you already lumping know. I’m, like, totally single, but if you want these lumps, you gotta put a ring on it. I’m not even sure if I’m ready for love, but I hope he’ll be a steaming hot babe with huge money.
[ Duchess Gummibuns begins eating food and drink on the table without asking ]
Uh. [ Duchess Gummibuns says within mouthfuls ] Is that Space Cat okay?
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notices that the Space Hound, Dick, seems unworried
Mr. Liversnaps-Grayson, is a routine state of cateplexy often common in the seventh of rounds?
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[takes a moment to register what’s happened]
Ahem.
[peers over glasses]
Ah, indeed, indeed. He’ll be right-side-round in no time.
[looks back at his cards, puffs on his pipe]
Mmmmhmmm. No time at all.
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Rumpthwaite, be a good chap and bring me a pint of vinegar and a dozen hard-boiled egg yolks.
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[Rumpthwaite produces a porcelain bowl of large, golden, precisely boiled yolks and places it on the table]
“Indeed, sir. Please enjoy these delights from Leviathan’s private duck house. Does Dr. Franksenketchup have a preference for white, apple cider, or malt? Or perhaps something from the balsamic collection would be preferred?”
[Anticipating your next questions, the old moose hands you a vinegar list]
“McClary Brothers is the celebrated choice in drinking vinegars at Leviathan’s, but certainly the good doctor knows what he prefers most.”
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McClary will do nicely, Rumpthwaite.
Igor! IGOR!
Yes, Master! Here, Master.
I will be staying at the club tonight. Secure a room for me and have my grip sent up.
Yes, Master. Right away, Master.
And Igor…
Yes, Sir.
You are a mallodorous pile of dung, Igor.
Yes, Master. Thank you, Sir. [limps away quickly]
6 Likes
The door opens and the stately rack of Hieronymoose Farnsworth the Third strides in. He hands his great coat and topper to the doorman and enters the lounge.
A slight dip of the antlers as he catches @Rumpthwaite’s eye, “Port, my good man. Use your discretion”
Hieronymoose surveys the lounge and takes a seat at one of the empty gaming tables as Rumpthwaite appears with his drink.
“Thank you, Rumpthwaite. Might I bother you for a deck of cards and your Whist markers?”
“Of course, sir. I’ll 'ave them right over.”
Leaning back, Hieronymoose pulls a small ivory box from his waist coat and takes a pinch of snuff. Once the cards arrive he begins to shuffle them and plays a hand of solitaire until three others invite themselves over for the game.
10 Likes
Commander Piker !
I’ve detected a significant unscheduled disruption with subspace communication. It’s like we’ve not been able to communicate into or out of the Weatherby system for nearly half of a sol.
Not now, lad. Can’t you see I’m busy drinking and playing cards.
10 Likes
@Rumpthwaite, another Port please and keep a look out for my Ward, Rocco.
I just obtained him a job at the local messenger service and expect he’ll be finishing up his day soon. Teach them the value of a good day’s work early, I always say.
Well, yes, I’ve not needed to perform a good day’s work outside of that stint in the Quartermasters. But the less fortunate need these lessons so they can be productive Members of society.
Forget the port, I’ll have a single-malt.
7 Likes
Oh. I see that side of the the Farnsworth @Hadley line has shown up here in Weatherby as well.
@Rumpthwaite, Make it a double.
4 Likes
St-Patrick-Hartbrooke steps into the room, his eyes roaming the crowd.
A felinoid and a caninoid in matching livery; obviously matter and servant; one showing obvious signs of overindulgence. Two pescinoids; a similar relationship between the two; one radiating confidence. A humanoid, alone; St-Patrick-Hartbrooke feels unease in his presence. Some species of Lumpy Space Person; St-Patrick-Hartbrooke doesn’t know enough about the species to make any judgements. And an alcesinoid, looking rather upset about something.
All-in-all, he thinks he should have waited longer before arriving. No one of importance seems to be present yet. Ah, well, it would be gauche to arrive and depart and arrive again; surely someone worthwhile is here. And one shouldn’t be too surprised even if there isn’t; this seems to be a night solely for new inductees.
Well, one person would know who was in attendance; let’s see how realistically the barkeep has been programmed.
With a lowered voice, he asks:
“@Rumpthwaite, a glass of red wine. Something off-dry, from the northwest. And, if you might enlighten me on who else is in attendance…” A coin flashes in the light; for most purposes, digital transfers work well enough, but for sheer ostentation, one cannot beat precious metals, so the St-Patrick-Hartbrooke family, at least, always keep some coin on hand.
7 Likes
[Moving around the room with a silver tray, efficiently providing additional culinary diversions where needed and the removal of glassware only where required, it is clear that this agèd moose has an innate understanding of both discretion and protocol.]
“Certainly, Mr. Farnsworth. A doubled portion of our MacMackey McMichael, aged 18 years. I’m pleased to inform you that young Rocco has arrived and is enjoying his syrup and seltzer with admirable gusto.”
“And for Mr. St-Patrick-Hartbrooke.”
[Rumpthwaite presents a glass of Ruddyrock Estate Reserve '14 and exchanges quiet words with the Space Griffin, recognizing him for his generosity.]
7 Likes