Racetrack & Sapphy

[Sapphy]

"You have loaded dice?" Sapphy asked, voice lowered, her lips around the rim of her glass.

She considered what Race said. "I wasn't always a cynic, you know." Somewhere deep inside Shaye Nolan, she fucking hated the very word.

[Racetrack]

"Gift from an old friend. Never use 'em in an honest game, but when it's all rigged from the start...or, you know, when the price of a drink is totally outrageous." He gave the Guiness a break and took a drag from his nearly spent cigar. "No? Do you think it was...all that recent stuff that brought it on?" he asked gently, thinking of her ex-boyfriend and fickle friends.

[Sapphy]

"Completely, I do," Sapphy said, suddenly downing the rest of her drink.

[Racetrack]

"Maybe it'll pass," he said, rubbing out the cigar and throwing his own drink back to keep up with her. "Y'know, your luck'll change and you'll be more of an optimist again. Look at it this way--you know me and Blink and Mush now, so there's endless entertainment in your future."

((Bedtime, I suppose. Till tomorrow!))

[Sapphy]

Sapphy laughed to herself, trailing her finger around and around the rim of her glass. Yeah, cause entertainment was what she really wanted.

But she smiled at Race for the thought. "Thanks," she mumbled.

((NOOOOOOOO~ Okay, have a good sleep! ))

[Racetrack]

He nodded, although he could tell he hadn't really succeeded in cheering her up. "We need refills," he announced, and got up to chat with the bartender. Before long, the dice were rolling, and then he was coming back with the promised drinks while the bartender sat with an expression of confusion, going over those oh-so-unlucky rolls in his head.

[Sapphy]

Sapphy, without a word, shot back her drink. It was hard to get the full-blooded Irishgirl drunk, but one thing always happened whenever Sapphy started drinking...

"I done 90, boy," she said, her Irish accent that she practiced out of her was slowly creepin' in. "Fer all th' world... I'm a looper when it comes ta this an' me. I got a pain in me hole fer lettin' those fuckin' muppets transmoglefy who I am. ...Giz another?"

[Racetrack]

Race stared at her for so long that he could have counted all her eyelashes, his own drink temporarily forgotten. She had just turned into one of his Irish cousins at a christening party after her fourth or fifth whiskey.

"Uh...do you really think that would be wise?"

[Sapphy]

Sapphy took a step towards Race, their noses almost touching.

"Ask me again, smart alec," she grinned, having a bit of fun with Race. "Let's have a scrap?"

[Racetrack]

Race seemed to solemnly consider the offer. "I dunno. We might get thrown out. That'd mean no more drinks. And most guys don't go for a girl who fights, which could also cut off our drink supply. This is a risky proposition, Sapph."

[Sapphy]

Sapphy stepped away, clutching her stomach to keep from laughing too hard.

"Ya think I care what boys think o' me? Ya think I do what I do to find a suitable fella?" For Sapphy, the option was forever taken off the table. "Race," she laughed, stepping close again. "All these kids do is go at it like rabbits or claim their love after three days. It's divvy! It don't work like that."

[Racetrack]

"'Course it don't. You gotta be friends first," Race said without thinking, then cursed himself as he realized the implications. He hoped she'd know in her thoroughly intoxicated state that he was speaking generally.

Suddenly, he thought that thoroughly intoxicated might not be so bad, and downed his own drink in a couple gulps. Not Guinness anymore--that was just to warm him up for the whiskey. "Now how are we gonna get the next round?" he asked Sapphy in a furtive whisper.

[Sapphy]

Sapphy tapped her chin in thought before snapping her fingers. She quickly tied her hair up, but allowed a few strands to come undone -- making her look a little frazzled.

She hiked up one side of her skirt and unbuttoned her blouse. She rolled up her sleeves to her elbows and picked up a nearby tray. She hurried walked over to a bartender who hadn't helped her or Race yet.

In a tough Brooklyn accent, she said, "I need a pair of gin and tonics."

"You work here?"

"Yeah, first night too, dammit I wished I'd been warned."

"Don't worry, they start filtering out soon -- the poker game's eating all their money up." The bartender said to her, carrying on conversation as he fixed the drinks.

"Yeah?" Sapphy asked, looking tired and hopeful at the same time, hand on her hip. "Thanks. Keep up the good work."

She returned to Race with the tray.

[Racetrack]

Race blinked. "Your drunk conversation skills really improve when you're using 'em to get more drinks," he teased her with a smirk, noting the sudden lack of incomprehensible Irish slang. "Thanks," he added, taking a whiskey off the tray and looking everywhere but at her unbuttoned blouse. This time, he knew the drill and threw back the tall glass like a shot. He was now getting a definite buzz himself.

[Sapphy]

Sapphy stared at Race, her eyes moving over his face expertly. She took in his mannerisms and his eyes and where he was trying not to look.

"Oh Race," she sighed, the Irish back on. "Yer one right clipe, ya know that?"

((Haha down the road I'm thinking I want Sapphy's brother to come back and then Race won't be able to understand her AT ALL.))