[Open]

[earthborn]

Who| Shepard and OPEN
What| Sitting around being totally not suspicious, being open for random encounters
Where| District 5 suite, Tribute Center lobby, and all around town
When| After the clandestine network post, et all
Warnings/Notes| cursing, probably



⓵ Outside, in the sunlight, it was a beautiful day. The wind and sun were just the right balance of gust and heat to counteract the humidity. If Shepard had been the sort of person to think it, it might've been the perfect to start thinking about pools, and swimsuits and summer. Lazy days ahead.

No, not here, no sir. Here we sit, on the D5 couch, laying back with a potted tree on your stomach, and enough scratch-made chili in the pot on the stove to feed a small army. Watching the Hunger Games, even. On-screen, the camera was watching a man watch a saber-toothed tiger from above, complete with terse background music. Who was hunting who, here?

Be it ever so humble, there's no-place like home.

- -- --- -- -

⓶ Most people, she found, had an allegory to poker. Skyllian-five or Texas Hold 'Em, she'd never actually had someone explain Wicked Grace to her, but she'd heard Tabris mention it in passing, and it had the right sound to it. Betting was the great universal, and a bet on a game of pure skill was as boring as one based purely on chance. A good card game had both.

Shepard had a deck of cards, complete sovereignty over the low coffee table in the Tribute Center Lobby, and had stolen the remote from the secretary's desk. It'd be at least an hour yet before they figured out that she'd dropped it into the decorative planter. Until then, the screens were showing nice, peaceful nature scenes, complete with exotic birds and unexcited scientific narration. For once, it's not so bad in here-- but it could use some livening up.

"Hey, wanna play a hand?"

- -- --- -- -

⓷ Maybe you caught her at the coffee shop, having a drink, or maybe you found her on her early-morning run. Shepard's been known to wander the city, and she's no stranger to the local establishments, both family-friendly and otherwise. No matter where you run into the Commander, why not go say hi? You can't be any worse than the fans.

Comments

COFFEE DATE

[aintyourdad]

It's one of those unspoken things that just starts happening after a while - a couple times a week, they'll both just sort of end up at a local coffee shop, take their cups to a nearby park, and sit and sip together for a while.

Just two world-weary assholes enjoying some fucking coffee together. And maybe glaring at the occasional paparazzi that swing by.

"Goddamn cameras," he mutters amiably, leaning back a little on the park bench.

[earthborn]

"It's not the cameras that get me," Shepard says, quite relaxed, and sighs with her head back and elbows thrown over the back of that bench, "It's the watching."

After all, she had often been the subject of a surveillance state. True privacy was rare, and often deadly, in her world. A teenager flashed by in a riot of robin's egg hair and a billowing silver shawl, the wheels of his rollerblades whizzing against the sidewalk.

"Used to be it was at least not all just one guy. I mean, the cops on one end, shopkeeper, my own damn AI, it's not like they're fucking....stalkers. It's creepy."

[aintyourdad]

"Hey now, at least you're legally allowed to defend yourself if they cross the line, right?" Joel offers, his lips twitching faintly.

A joke, really. They both know the new laws are bullshit, smoke and mirrors.

AHAHAHAHA because cards

[revocation]

Cullen, needless to say, has a bit of an aversion to card games these days. At her question, he stops short, looking a bit like, well, a deer in the headlights.

"Er - I don't imagine I'd be familiar with any game you know," he points out - hopefully all logic and rationality and not I don't want to lose my pants again.

yeah im like "i didn't think this through"

[earthborn]

He looks like someone who just walked into a puddle of engine grease without realizing it and must now come up with a way to get out of this mess before it soaks all the way through to his socks. She tries not to laugh, but it's a definite challenge given just how different Cullen sounds when he's not trying to growl or put on the voice of command.

"Breathe, soldier," Shepard tries not to laugh. Success is... elusive, "How about you pick the game, then. What d'you wanna play?"

D5

[justoutrunyou]

There was a time when Sandy was uncomfortable letting herself into the D5 suite to find Shepard or the Initiate. It was easier now that they didn't how a glowering mentor shooting eye daggers at anyone who came through the door like they were secret spies.

Today she came rolling in like she belonged with a bundle under her arm. Spotting Shepard she took a seat next to her on the sofa and turned her attention to the TV screens.

"If Pruna had made it long enough we probably would have tried to go after one of those things. She always loved a challenge."

It still hurt to say her name out loud and acknowledge she was gone, but like Shepard had said when Sandy came out of this arena. It was probably better and Sandy was finding it easier every day to think about it. Her voice hadn't even given a shake this time.

[earthborn]

"Watch," Shepard said, one arm curled protectively around the pot on her stomach. She was immersed in her laziness, or so it would seem-- but as the man on screen emerged from the shadows, the reason for her fascination became clear.

Thane Krios dropped from the branches of the tree like a ghost and in three sharp movements had vaulted over the cat's back, grasped it deep in the fur beneath its ears and with his momentum executed a sharp, crackling twist. He somersaulted once and landed in a crouch, but the beast was already dead; a perfect, flawless kill.

Shepard's exhale was audible in the silence. Then the screen went black, and the potted tree went on the coffee table, with the remote, so she could sit up.

"Sorry. How was school?"

A Morning Run

[omnomgrenades]

He was settling in, slowly, but steadily. He was eager to move, to get the job done and watch the bastards smother under all the smoke, but he knew the value of time.

Of being patient. Of making sure there was nary a ripple to give him away as he slipped back into the water. Like a shark in the shallows, waiting for the sunbathing seals.

And there was, after all, little he could about the amount of hours in a day. Even he had other things that needed doing. Impossible habits to break: sleeping, eating.... Running. While the day was still young, the morning cool and gray, the streets near empty - the park completely abandoned.

Silent but for the pound of his feet against the path and the gentle rustle of his clothes, he wound through the park in a long, lesser-traveled route. Expecting few - if anyone at all - and enjoying the freedom of the quiet.

Just him and the path. Just him and the goal.

[earthborn]

Shepard had walked into the Alliance Enlistment office with a fake ID and a strong will, and they had taken her at face value. By eighteen, she was old enough to enlist for real, but by then she'd already been operated on, already been tested and poked and prodded and given all the standard gene mods that an Alliance soldier needed. Run faster, jump higher, go farther, survive injuries that would kill lesser men, the posters had said.

"On your right," Shepard called out, about to lap him.

When she had enlisted, camp had been full of kids with shaved heads and uncertain attitudes. Fifteen mile runs in the mud, in the snow, in the heat, no matter what happened, you ran daily. More than once, she'd seen someone lean over and vomit into the ditch, without stopping. You didn't break your rhythm for nothing, just kept breathing.

ii. you ever play andrastian poker? yeah, me neither.

[wardenings]

"A hand?"

The question had thrown Alistair off guard, if he were to be honest. Stepping down for only a brief moment to stretch out his legs ( you can only be so entertained by books that aren't Varric Tethras's ), the Warden's attention had been grabbed by the woman. Arms locked behind his back and chin lifted, Alistair found himself exhaling as he broke his stretch, lips pursed.

"I suppose. What kind of cards are you playing?"

I won a hand in a video game once. By cheating. Don't ask me how.

[earthborn]

"Just your standard fifty-two."

Was this guy ever relaxed? Shepard was a big fan of military structure, but the guy seemed to live in parade rest. You sure can pick 'em, Tabris.

"But, I mean-- earlier, I had a guy drag a chess set down here; I'm easy."

2

[tucky]

Tiffany, dressed like a wannabe Capitol clubber, is on her way in. Surprised at being addressed, she looks around a little in case this woman is actually talking to someone else - but nope, the lobby is pretty empty right now.

"Yeah, okay. Why not?"

She plops down in a chair opposite Shepard. "What're you playing?"

[earthborn]

"Poker usually," she says, shuffling the deck one-handed, "Here, cut it."

Cut the deck, Tiffany.

"What's your pleasure?"

2

[ka_sera_sera]

It's the noise that gets his attention first - or the lack thereof. There's always noise in the lobby, of course, the sounds of reporters and hangers-on, fans and tributes restless enough to risk being cornered by them just so they can find some way to pass the time. But the noise that's usually underneath all that chatter and movement is absent - instead of the voices he's come to know so well of Flickerman and the rest of Panem Television's gossiping hordes, he hears birds and wind and what sounds like bland recitation of a day in the life of a whitetailed deer.

The question distracts him from those thoughts. Roland looks down at the woman sitting there, shrugs, and sits carefully in the awkward, stylish couch across from her. "Poker? It's the only one of this world's card games I know, though I've plenty of time to learn another, if you'd rather."

"Is something broken in these machines?" he adds, jerking his head toward one of the screens nearby. "Didn't think the Capitol cared to hear about anything other than death, fashion, or fucking."

[earthborn]

"Poker's just fine by me."

Roland Deschain, memory supplied. She remembered the way he'd looked falling backwards into the darkness of the arena. But that was nearly a year ago, and it seemed like he wasn't holding any grudges. Good.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Shepard grinned as she shuffled, doing her best to look the very picture of facetious innocence, "Everything seems completely normal to me."

2

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden's passing through, and looks to be in a hurry, but his steps falter at the called words. They've spoken once before, and they're by no means close or even friendly... but he has a hard time turning down offers for games. He has a few weaknesses, and games are a big one, partly because chess isn't his only skill and he tends to be very good. It helps that his poker face is pretty unrivaled.

"I have a few minutes," he says slowly, as if considering it (even though he's already made up his mind, had in fact made up his mind a half-second after hearing the invitation.) "Is this a game I'd know, or should I prepare myself for a quick rundown of the rules?"

[earthborn]

"Quasar," she was already shuffling, hands caught in the th-th-th-th-thk! rhythm of cardboard tension and reslease. Like an afterthought, Shepard corrected herself, "Sorry, Black-Jack? Hell, Linden, I'll play whatever you want, I'm just killing time here."

Was a damned lie. But then, wasting an afternoon wasn't actually indistinguishable from what she was actually doing. Besides, the TVs were obnoxious and the secretary deserved a little hide-and-seek to keep her on her toes.

Coffee Shop

[allyorfoe]

"What's a pretty lady like you drinking alone."

With a dry tone and a smirk, Tabris plunked herself down in the chair across from Shepard, stretching out her legs and waving down someone to bring her some tea, because coffee is still strange and smells funny. That accomplished, she turned back to Shepard.

"Now there's two pretty ladies drinking alone. Together. It's...what's that stupid word." She waved her hand around. "Thematic? Allegorical! Whatever." Her mouth twists slightly, and she glances off to look over the rest of the people there. "We keep meeting to dish serious dirt, don't we. I have a situation I could use advice on, concerning a newbie that dropped in. Or, we can talk about coffee. I haven't tried it yet."

[earthborn]

"There it is, I knew you wanted something."

Everybody needed something, that was what it was, really. Most of all her friends-- used to be it pissed Shepard off, but in a weird, almost painful way, she was often just pleased to be needed. It was better than the alternative.

Silently, Shepard slid her half-finished coffee over to Tabris, "Let's hear it."

Morning run

[beckstitch]

Shepard isn't the only one out running. Unlike most Capitolites, District 12's new Stylist has a strict exercise regime. Not that she looks much like a Capitolite at this time of the morning. You could be forgiven for assuming Beck was a Tribute, from her bare face and simple (if well-fitted) exercise gear. The only thing that gives her away is her long acrylic nails, which she hasn't bothered to take off after the night before.

To tell the truth, she's still a little hungover, but she's making good time nonetheless. But, fit though she is, she's no professional soldier; Shepard can pull past her easily. When she does, Beck looks over at her, smiling sidelong. "Nice day for it," she calls, and waves. "Shepard, right?"

[earthborn]

Shepard has fans.

That's a concept that has never once stopped being weird. Of course, it was true back home too, but with only a few notable exceptions, people tended to be smart enough to know that if she wasn't busy, she was still a Spectre, and therefore not someone worth pestering. Capitolites, for whatever reason, had lacked that survival instinct, until enough time had passed and she'd stopped being 'fashionable'. Still, it wasn't as if she were some kind of nobody-- moreso here than ever before. Getting recognized was a fact of life.

"Yep," She didn't break her stride, focusing straight ahead. Never, whatever you do, look at the ones who call your name. It only encourages them, "That's my name."

making fun of human cards

[biiowiired]

Psii was drawn to these sort of nature videos. He watched them on his own time anyway, since it was good to learn about dangerous plants and animals he might encounter in an arena. If he couldn't have his powers, he could at least make use of his nerd intellect. Then someone hailed him. Hearsay put a name to the face, and he remembered Shepard was one of his rebel allies--not that they could chat about that here.

"If you want to teach me, thure."

He wasn't familiar with human poker, but he liked games, especially when they didn't kill him. Psii was lucky with chance half the time, and his skill with cards depended on how much was strategy and how much was bluffing. He could pull off strategy pretty well. He approached the coffee table--

"Are you trying to athk people out on dateth?" He snickered rudely. Clubs, diamonds, hearts and spades. It was a regular quadrantfest up in here. He picked up a two of hearts. "Let me gueth, thith card thayth I have to kith two people in thith room."

[earthborn]

"Right, uh...."

Shepard looked around. There were maybe five people present, counting the harried receptionist, and two of them were peacekeepers. Well, honestly, they might have been well dressed mannequins, stationed by the door, but they could occasionally be seen to shift their weight.

"...Look, you can kiss whoever you want, and if you wanna take orders from a piece of cardboard that's your business," she spread her hands helplessly, to indicate the lack of choice, "But there are fifty-two cards in this deck, and none of them have to do with romance. I didn't invent the deck, or the game, I just play."

From Tevinter With Love

[earthborn]

Every morning, the same way. Oh-Four-Hundred, coffee, calories, and the morning run in the dark, alone with just her thoughts and all the little glass eyes of the City, quiet around her. Blessed solitude.

Oh-five-hundred and she was down in the training center, presiding over a motley gaggle of foot-draggers and malcontents. Well, mostly they were kids, and kids didn't want to get up before noon if they had a chance of doing otherwise. Dorian was another beast entirely. He was... Alright, in the interests of full disclosure, he was an ass. But he showed up, on time even, and he did the work.

Shepard leaned over the ropes blocking off the sparring ring and beckoned him over, "Pavus! Dorian, you're up. Dance with me."

[tevintage]

Every time she called him Pavus, he cringed inwardly, but somehow managed not to let it seep out, outwardly. He was hungover - but then, he was hungover a lot, these days, and was extremely good at hiding it. Capitol medical technology was wonderful, as far as he was concerned. He hadn't slept, either - her sessions were so early that it was actually late night, for him. He'd go pass out after he was done.

He didn't want to be here. In fact, he wanted to be anywhere other than here, but self-abuse seemed to be the theme, lately, and what better way to abuse oneself than to train for one's inevitable death. It was morbid, and he was enjoying the morbidity.

It didn't stop him from being an ass.

"I'm afraid you're not exactly my type," He drawled as he stepped over, pulling up the ropes so he could slide in under them.