Boring Machines Disturbs Sleep

[Halbarad]

"I hadn't planned anything, no," Tim replies with a slight blush, taking a drink from the mug to cover his embarrassment.

This should be interesting. A girlfriend to boot. How the hell am I supposed to keep this hidden from someone that knows this 'Tim' well?

Not offering any further comment, he takes his knife and gets himself a slice of pie as well, merely keeping his ears open for the moment as he tucks in.

[Brian]

Lamb and carrots, peas, and ... squash?  In a rich dark gravy.  Not bad, actually.  The mug is milk, with something added too it -- tastes a bit like horchata.  It's warm, sweet, and the slight spiciness of the gravy is neatly countered.

"Well," says Smith, starting to regain his composure, "why don't we both go to a florist, then?  Miss Machree...."  He trails off with a smile, before Worthington clears his throat loudly.

"You're forgetting," he says mildly, "that Tim here is going to be finishing his apprenticeship soon, aren't you?"

Angus grunts at that, nodding.

Smith frowns.  "Well, we'll have to make sure your recognition speech is complete.  No wonder you've had no time for Catherine!"

Angus gives a sour grimace.  "I hate speeches," he grumbles.  "Master Foster insists, though.  Don't worry lad.  I'm sure my own speech will be terrible enough to make yours shine like a brass work in an ironwork."

"Still," Worthington says around a mouthful of potato, "what's your topic going to be?"

"Commitment," Angus says, causing Smith to almost choke on his wine.  "You, Tim?"

[Halbarad]

Tim doesn't quite manage to stifle a groan. "I'm not even sure," he replies, shaking his head. "Why do I need to give a speech anyway?"

[Brian]

"I don't think there's any kind of justification," Angus sighs.  "Just focus on what you've learned.  It'll be fine -- and I'm sure my own speech will be so terrible you could recite the dinner menu and get a commendation.  Smith, what was your speech about?"

Smith looks hurt.  "You were there!" he complains.  "I did the three integrities -- valor, dedication, reaffirmation.  What about you, Worthington?"

"Choked," Worthington says, coloring.  "I meant to recite the passage from the gate technician's manual on exploration, and all I could think of was some stupid story about my aunt's farm, when I was working as a shepherd."  He glances at his pie, and adds, "This is better fare, by the by."

Angus snorts.  "Don't worry about it too much," he advises.

[Halbarad]

"Maybe I can do something on attention to detail," Tim replies, shaking his head. Certainly something I'm going to have to do until I figure out what exactly I need to do here.

[Brian]

Angus wilts slightly.  "Guess I'll need a new topic, then," he says with a sigh.

Smith and Worthington snicker, and Angus lets a smile show that he was kidding.  But by then, dinner is finished.  Smith and Worthington gather their trays and the pitchers, then place them by a sink.

"Well," Angus says, climbing to his feet and checking his chronometer.  "Don't stay up too late, lads.  Busy day tomorrow, what?"  With that, he puts up his own dishes, stumps through one of the room's two doors, and turns left down a hallway.

Smith nods absently, while Worthington turns back to Tim and asks, "Join us for a few rounds of cards before you call it a night?"

[Halbarad]

"Wouldn't mind talking for a while, but I'm not really in the mood for cards," Tim replies.

[Brian]

"Alright," Smith says, leading the way.  He turns right, down the hallway.  Looking back, the corridors here are metal on the side with the cafeteria, and wooden on the opposite side.  The ceiling is wooden, too, and light is provided by what looks like light-bulbs -- large florescent tubes, to be precise.  Steel doors along what must be some interior wall, and wooden ones along the exterior.

It's not far down the corridor before a door marked (with a large plaque), 'Journeymen Quarters'.  Further down the hallway is an equally obvious plaque reading 'Apprentice Quarters'.  Huzzah for labeling!

The door isn't locked; Worthington opens it up and steps inside.

This room is actually pretty nice.  A one-color carpet covers everything but the floor immediately by the walls (brown, on closer inspection), and there's two pieces of furniture that probably have some Victorian-era name, but are essentially couches.  A coffee-table with a tea-service sits between them, and beyond that is a bay window that stretches from about waist level (just above the bench set inside the window) all the way to the ceiling.

There's a city out there, and at a guess, Tim would place this room about seventy or so feet above it.  It's dark, but there are lights shining through the night.  Another door from this room leads to one side, presumably where the beds are.

A table has a few books stacked on it, along with a lantern that's not currently lit.  The electrical light here is a circular florescent tube set inside a simple chandelier.  Swanky.

Worthington settles himself on a couch and sighs in contentment, while Smith rifles through a drawer hidden in the bottom of the table to produce a deck of cards.  That gets set on the coffee-table while he sits opposite Worthington.

"What did you want to talk about?" Smith asks.  "You need help with your speech?"

"Or Catherine?" Worthington adds with a smirk.

[Halbarad]

Tim shoots Worthington a dark look. "The speech, yes," he replies, muttering a bit under his breath. "I just hate the idea of talking in front of other people for the sake of talking."

[Brian]

"But Master Balmer loves talking," Smith says with a cautious glance at the door to the hallway.  "And if you have to make a speech, then so does he.  So don't worry or try too hard -- if your speech is better than him, he'll just become vexed, anyway."

"I find stuttering helps," Worthington supplies, shuffling the cards and dealing enough for himself and Smith to begin a round of ... looks like poker.  No gambling, just playing for the fun of it.

[Halbarad]

"I don't know about stuttering, but I  think I can manage nervous," he says wryly, settling down to watch the hand play out - if it IS poker, he might as well try a hand or two.

[Brian]

The game is, in fact, poker.  Mostly.  There's a few variations, such as the suits.  There are two red, and two black, but instead of diamonds and hearts there's hexes and hammers.  Instead of clubs and spades there are spades and coins.  In addition, they have some funny rules on winning hands -- Smith wins the first one with 'king of the forest', which is a straight that has only every other consecutive card in a straight.  Worthington almost wins with a 'half-flush', which is all black cards, but that hand doesn't beat much of anything, especially not Smith's genuine flush.

Smith is pretty good, Worthington is outright horrid.  It doesn't take long to figure out that his skill is probably the primary factor in no actual money being exchanged.  After a few hands, there's a knock at the door.

Without looking up from dealing (it's his turn) Smith calls, "Come in!"

A tiny, nervous looking bespectacled man creaks the door open and leans in.  "Sirs?" he squeaks.  "I had thought you might....  I mean....  There was...."

"Have a seat, Millhouse," Worthington says without looking up.  "I could use someone to make me feel like I'm not the only one losing here."

Ducking his head, Nemo (if Tim's memory of the names in the locker room is correct) joins the game.

[Halbarad]

"Go ahead and deal me in this hand," Tim replies, moving up closer to the table. "Suppose one or two won't hurt."

[Brian]

"Not until one or two becomes seven or eight," Worthington says with a chuckle.  "When's your next shift, Nemo?"

The game is 5-card draw (or close enough).  Tim is dealt a 4, 7, 8 of hexes, a duke of spades (the same as a jack), and a Maestro of coins (the same as an ace) for the initial deal.

"After the fair," Nemo replies, looking at his cards and wincing.  "I just finished -- they had me working in the dungeons."

"Ouch," Smith says sympathetically, motioning for Tim to make the first discard.

[Halbarad]

Tim frowns slightly at his cards, placing the duke and the maestro face down on  the table. "At least you've got a break for a while after that."