Charlie Cutter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alittlesweptup) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crux_fleet2014-05-05 12:26 am
alittlesweptup) wrote in crux_fleet2014-05-05 12:26 am
[open]
Who: Charlie Cutter & YOU!
Where: Various
When: Catch-all from the 1st through the 8th.
Warnings: High likelihood of salty language, will update if necessary.
[Quark's]
Where there are sporting events, there's a simulcast to be found. Where there's sporting simulcasts in even semi-proximity of gambling tables, there's money to be made.
Charlie knows approximately jack all about approximately ninety percent of the games held in the Colliseum and beyond, but this is his element and he's a damn quick study when he likes to be. In this case - living off the generosity of the Fleet for this his second month and desperately trying to avoid considering gainful employment for as long as he's able -- Well, in this case he's got the motivation to learn all the finagling rules of space games and setting up shop at the end of the bar at Quark's seems as good a place as any to take in a few drinks, some chips and spend a few hours glued to both the simulcasts and the casual betting being had by any other patrons in the vicinity.
He doesn't risk his money on any of the sports that are too unfamiliar for him to have any kind of grasp on yet, but there's nothing overly complex about giant robot fights. When the simulcast turns over to one of those, Charlie orders another drink and cheerfully nudges whatever poor sod is sitting next to him.
"I'll bet you a tenner the blue one kicks the other one's arse."
[Street of the Gods]
He'd been before on Nate's recommendation, but a month after his own arrival and Charlie finds himself spending frequent afternoons meandering his way through the street of the gods. Not that he's the religious sort - superstitious yes and maybe there's a little faith in the concept of luck, if not Fortuna herself - but there's a strange kind of even keel to be found in the places where people put their trust. None of these gods belong to him (hell, most of them aren't even recognizable), but there's an order and purpose to the avenue that's as soothing as the indexing system in the fleet library. Categorized. Structured. Sensible in it's own way.
And Christ if he isn't missing a bit of that.
Charlie makes his way along the street, ducking into one of the churches (shrines? sanctuaries? God only knows) at random and finding it between services. Or maybe they haven't got services at all. Maybe it's just a glorified prayer box. That said there's benches running along the outer edge of the hall and he takes advantage of one by perching himself on the end of it. There are only a few other people in the sanctuary, stone silent, and he quickly finds himself needing to cough - does so, awkwardly and blustering.
"Pardon."
[WILDCARD - Choose Your Own Adventure!]
((ooc: I'm open to whatever!))
Where: Various
When: Catch-all from the 1st through the 8th.
Warnings: High likelihood of salty language, will update if necessary.
[Quark's]
Where there are sporting events, there's a simulcast to be found. Where there's sporting simulcasts in even semi-proximity of gambling tables, there's money to be made.
Charlie knows approximately jack all about approximately ninety percent of the games held in the Colliseum and beyond, but this is his element and he's a damn quick study when he likes to be. In this case - living off the generosity of the Fleet for this his second month and desperately trying to avoid considering gainful employment for as long as he's able -- Well, in this case he's got the motivation to learn all the finagling rules of space games and setting up shop at the end of the bar at Quark's seems as good a place as any to take in a few drinks, some chips and spend a few hours glued to both the simulcasts and the casual betting being had by any other patrons in the vicinity.
He doesn't risk his money on any of the sports that are too unfamiliar for him to have any kind of grasp on yet, but there's nothing overly complex about giant robot fights. When the simulcast turns over to one of those, Charlie orders another drink and cheerfully nudges whatever poor sod is sitting next to him.
"I'll bet you a tenner the blue one kicks the other one's arse."
[Street of the Gods]
He'd been before on Nate's recommendation, but a month after his own arrival and Charlie finds himself spending frequent afternoons meandering his way through the street of the gods. Not that he's the religious sort - superstitious yes and maybe there's a little faith in the concept of luck, if not Fortuna herself - but there's a strange kind of even keel to be found in the places where people put their trust. None of these gods belong to him (hell, most of them aren't even recognizable), but there's an order and purpose to the avenue that's as soothing as the indexing system in the fleet library. Categorized. Structured. Sensible in it's own way.
And Christ if he isn't missing a bit of that.
Charlie makes his way along the street, ducking into one of the churches (shrines? sanctuaries? God only knows) at random and finding it between services. Or maybe they haven't got services at all. Maybe it's just a glorified prayer box. That said there's benches running along the outer edge of the hall and he takes advantage of one by perching himself on the end of it. There are only a few other people in the sanctuary, stone silent, and he quickly finds himself needing to cough - does so, awkwardly and blustering.
"Pardon."
[WILDCARD - Choose Your Own Adventure!]
((ooc: I'm open to whatever!))