Baccano! made me explode, so I wrote small things and and and oh god
I signed up for no_true_pair at IJ on top of all the other
challenges; what am I doing; somebody kick me in the head, please.
FRIENDS LIST. GO WATCH BACCANO! It has Mafia men! It has New York and Chicago from the 1930s! It has immortals! It has sexy suits and ties! And hats! It has Koyasu Takehito!
Drabbles:Draw up a seat, and deal yourself in. A game with the Gandors. 166 words.
It was Keith's deck, so it was warm down and dog eared and mangly, but between the four of them there were no appearances to upkeep. 'Hit me,' Firo grinned, because friends didn't let other friends play poker at a table of Gandors. 21 gave room for idle chat, easy betting and a looser eye on the alcohol. Berga - doorkeeper of the liquor - was a lot kinder with a hand of eighteen than he was with two pairs and no prospects, and Firo reaped the benefits.
Keith slid Firo a card, and four with a king and a seven made -- 'Blackjack,' someone said from behind him, and Luck chuckled when Firo almost jumped out of his seat. Claire was home; no announcement, as usual, no warning.
'We didn't see you come in,' Firo complained.
'I didn't want you to,' Claire grinned, pulling up a chair. When the next round was dealt it was a five card draw, because Claire always wanted raised stakes.New-found immortality has its perks. Claire finds Luck changed, but not necessarily in a bad way. 261 words.
Claire pulled in with the new month's Express service, and he strolled right back into Gandor territory as though he'd never left the place. Keith nodded when he spotted Claire pulling off his coat, and pointed mutely up the stairs without being prompted.
Upstairs, Luck was reading. When his door suddenly swung open to admit a grinning redhead, it was a with a smile as opposed to a reflexive draw of a gun that greeted Claire. 'Are you reading Poe again?' the Stanfield asked, suspicious of Luck's newly-acquired lack of self-preservation; Mafia men with slow reactions were dead men.
'No,' Luck chuckled, which made Claire wonder what had happened to the man he once knew; the Luck who was always glad to see him, and yet always cautious, conscious of his own mortality. This Luck shut his book and came around in front of the desk without hesitation, this Luck didn't check for bloodstains on his lapel. 'Poe's not as frightening as he used to be.'
'What happened when I was away?' Claire asked.
'Interesting things,' Luck shrugged, and stepped into Claire's personal space. 'I want you to try something.'
'What?' Claire smiled.
'I want you to hit me,' Luck returned the expression. 'As hard as you can.'
Afterwards, Claire worked off the euphoria of having shot Luck in the head by placing a gentle kiss over the freshly healed wound, its edges already going invisible, disappearing. Then he pushed Luck up against a wall, and this Luck - free from fear and inhibition - was even better than he remembered.