36 - FERINOUGH
I tried to add a little backstory, mostly just because I love Nino. Something simple this time, hope it's not too different from what we've already got going!
He'd long since learned that you couldn't trust a pretty woman, just because she flashed a smile and your heart sort of caught in your chest. He learned a bit later that you couldn't trust a pretty man, just because he knew how to cut to the chase.
He'd had good days and bad days, made mistakes and told lies, gained experience, some knowledge, felt bruised lips and earned money. It hadn't always been easy, most times it had been hard, but with life it was probably better to not be picky. Things had started on a good note and he'd try to end with the same, and if in the middle it went off key at times he'd blame the strings (because the player was fantastic).
The first night the room had been full. Every table, every chair, save for one.
"I don't play," she told him firmly, before the full deck even fell into his hand.
She was his age, surprising, but he'd show anyone, and this time for free.
"I don't play either."
He'd thought about getting someone to teach him, it seemed like he could do anything with cards but play poker, but he'd recognized the game as one that couldn't be a hobby for him. He was the type to keep playing until he won. People played poker for money. This wasn't scrabble, this was life, and he was inclined to do something interesting with it. 'Lost all my money playing poker and my guitar is all I have' was nothing new.
"They won't serve alcohol to minors. It's not that kind of place," she informed him, clearly trying to work out a reason for his presence. If she didn't ask directly, he wasn't going to say. Mostly because he had no idea.
Except for the magic thing. He had to start somewhere, sometime.
"Want to pick a card?" he took a chance, fanning out the deck and hoping she didn't notice how small his hands were. It was only an insecurity if she noticed. The rest of the time it was fact.
"Not really, no."
Her eyes stayed focused on the stage. She was completely honest. It kind of sucked.
But Nino liked to think of himself as persuasive, or at the very least persistent, which meant it was best to fix her with a pout and shuffle the cards loudly, to the point of distraction. Flip them fast enough and it caused her hair to flutter at the ends. Be shameless enough to sigh and stop. He always got attention when he stopped.
"I'm not going to pick a card," she started, her eyes narrowed but not angry as far as he could tell, "I'm going to give you some advice."
"Well that's disappointing," he responded, pleased with himself as her nose crinkled and a tiny snort escaped.
"You're in the wrong place."
Nino raised an eyebrow. It was one thing to say he wasn't in the best place, because that was obvious from the moment he'd stepped inside, but to say he was in the wrong place felt like she was judging him too soon. If things went the way he wanted, if he could make this kind of trip work, there couldn't be a wrong place at the very beginning. The worst was losing motivation at the start.
"You're looking for Las Vegas, what you've found is a Clint Eastwood film," she explained, though her eyes kept darting back to the man at the microphone as she spoke, "People came here for funny, and this guy makes us laugh."
Nino couldn't see what that had to do with anything. He wasn't asking for time in the spotlight, wasn't in costume, wasn't trying to keep her entertained. He was asking her to pick a card and let him prove he could do this. This, what he'd been planning on for months.
She could tell he still didn't understand.
"Sitting down with men playing poker and advertising that you've got a talent for making the right card appear? That's not the kind of funny you want to be."
Oh.
He had to admit she had a point. One that would no doubt help him in the future. But it didn't make the truth any less annoying, and he could feel his pockets getting emptier without having spent any money at all.
"What are you doing with a guitar?" she added, tilting her body backward to get a good look at the floor behind him.
"I pull a rabbit out of it," he answered, his humor lost in the reality of things.
It smelled like barbecue, tobacco, a little manure - despite the fact he'd not seen a living animal in the miles he'd come thus far. His dream of the day was crushed, he pulled a muscle in his arm with his guitar case, and the way she was looking at him didn't make him want to scowl. That was weird.
Well, maybe it did a little, but only after twenty questions kicked in. What are you doing here, magician? He was hoping magic, but apparently not. Where are you going? Far from here, maybe, but he wouldn't (couldn't) give her an exact spot. Why are you running? He wasn't running, he was just going, simple as that.
"You haven't said where you're going, why you're going, what you want to get out of this... quest," she sounded like she was reciting lines, and honestly Nino wouldn't mind if she were, "but I hope you've got someone waiting for you at the end."
He liked the way her eyes lit up when he asked her for a memory, the way she almost saw fit to refuse him and leaned in instead, the feel of soft skin against his lips because he respected her - kissed the corner of her mouth, no more.
"It's Anne," she told him, laughing, "Now shut up, I've missed half the jokes because of you."
It was too bad that he believed in what she'd told him, that someone would be there, someone down the road. He'd not mind if she were the one that was waiting.
But this was beginning, far from the end.
He'd long since learned that you couldn't trust a pretty woman, just because she flashed a smile and your heart sort of caught in your chest. He learned a bit later that you couldn't trust a pretty man, just because he knew how to cut to the chase.
He'd had good days and bad days, made mistakes and told lies, gained experience, some knowledge, felt bruised lips and earned money. It hadn't always been easy, most times it had been hard, but with life it was probably better to not be picky. Things had started on a good note and he'd try to end with the same, and if in the middle it went off key at times he'd blame the strings (because the player was fantastic).
The first night the room had been full. Every table, every chair, save for one.
"I don't play," she told him firmly, before the full deck even fell into his hand.
She was his age, surprising, but he'd show anyone, and this time for free.
"I don't play either."
He'd thought about getting someone to teach him, it seemed like he could do anything with cards but play poker, but he'd recognized the game as one that couldn't be a hobby for him. He was the type to keep playing until he won. People played poker for money. This wasn't scrabble, this was life, and he was inclined to do something interesting with it. 'Lost all my money playing poker and my guitar is all I have' was nothing new.
"They won't serve alcohol to minors. It's not that kind of place," she informed him, clearly trying to work out a reason for his presence. If she didn't ask directly, he wasn't going to say. Mostly because he had no idea.
Except for the magic thing. He had to start somewhere, sometime.
"Want to pick a card?" he took a chance, fanning out the deck and hoping she didn't notice how small his hands were. It was only an insecurity if she noticed. The rest of the time it was fact.
"Not really, no."
Her eyes stayed focused on the stage. She was completely honest. It kind of sucked.
But Nino liked to think of himself as persuasive, or at the very least persistent, which meant it was best to fix her with a pout and shuffle the cards loudly, to the point of distraction. Flip them fast enough and it caused her hair to flutter at the ends. Be shameless enough to sigh and stop. He always got attention when he stopped.
"I'm not going to pick a card," she started, her eyes narrowed but not angry as far as he could tell, "I'm going to give you some advice."
"Well that's disappointing," he responded, pleased with himself as her nose crinkled and a tiny snort escaped.
"You're in the wrong place."
Nino raised an eyebrow. It was one thing to say he wasn't in the best place, because that was obvious from the moment he'd stepped inside, but to say he was in the wrong place felt like she was judging him too soon. If things went the way he wanted, if he could make this kind of trip work, there couldn't be a wrong place at the very beginning. The worst was losing motivation at the start.
"You're looking for Las Vegas, what you've found is a Clint Eastwood film," she explained, though her eyes kept darting back to the man at the microphone as she spoke, "People came here for funny, and this guy makes us laugh."
Nino couldn't see what that had to do with anything. He wasn't asking for time in the spotlight, wasn't in costume, wasn't trying to keep her entertained. He was asking her to pick a card and let him prove he could do this. This, what he'd been planning on for months.
She could tell he still didn't understand.
"Sitting down with men playing poker and advertising that you've got a talent for making the right card appear? That's not the kind of funny you want to be."
Oh.
He had to admit she had a point. One that would no doubt help him in the future. But it didn't make the truth any less annoying, and he could feel his pockets getting emptier without having spent any money at all.
"What are you doing with a guitar?" she added, tilting her body backward to get a good look at the floor behind him.
"I pull a rabbit out of it," he answered, his humor lost in the reality of things.
It smelled like barbecue, tobacco, a little manure - despite the fact he'd not seen a living animal in the miles he'd come thus far. His dream of the day was crushed, he pulled a muscle in his arm with his guitar case, and the way she was looking at him didn't make him want to scowl. That was weird.
Well, maybe it did a little, but only after twenty questions kicked in. What are you doing here, magician? He was hoping magic, but apparently not. Where are you going? Far from here, maybe, but he wouldn't (couldn't) give her an exact spot. Why are you running? He wasn't running, he was just going, simple as that.
"You haven't said where you're going, why you're going, what you want to get out of this... quest," she sounded like she was reciting lines, and honestly Nino wouldn't mind if she were, "but I hope you've got someone waiting for you at the end."
He liked the way her eyes lit up when he asked her for a memory, the way she almost saw fit to refuse him and leaned in instead, the feel of soft skin against his lips because he respected her - kissed the corner of her mouth, no more.
"It's Anne," she told him, laughing, "Now shut up, I've missed half the jokes because of you."
It was too bad that he believed in what she'd told him, that someone would be there, someone down the road. He'd not mind if she were the one that was waiting.
But this was beginning, far from the end.