A 2 and a 7. Again. Garret folded with a sigh, looking on resignedly as Jack pulled the clips over to his side of the table. The portly gentleman chuckled smugly as he loomed over his tiny hoard of bronze. "it's always a pleasure to have you back in town Mr Penrod. Thank Harmony the lawmans not around or he'd have me for daylight robbery."
Garret grimaced as he took a sip of his drink, toying with his diminishing pile of coins. "Can you burn these?" he asked idly, flipping a clip as Jack collected in the cards.
"Doubt it" he said, shuffling the deck with a frown. "Probably the wrong mix. You'd have to be an idiot to try."
Garret grinned. "I'll make you a bet."
The elder man snorted derisively. "Not likely. I've burned bad metal before, and I'm in no hurry to do so again. Worst headache of my life."
Garret cut and dealt, still smiling. Then turned as the doors to the saloon swung open, burning steel instinctively. It was the middle of the day, and the place was practically deserted, filled only with empty tables and swarms of dust motes visible by rays of the bright sun. In typical Roughs fashion, it had a worn, dirty feel.
To Garret's eyes a multitude of faint blue lines also filled the room, pointing from his chest to every nail, coin and other source of metal in the room. The gambling pair were the only clients in the bar, though a tell-tale clinking from behind the counter revealed the presence of the owner in the back room.
A think blue line pointed to Garret's own waist, at his Immerling 44. Another sank into the table towards Jack. The newcomer was a young, balding man, shirt slick with sweat from the noon heat. A prospector by the looks of him. He wore no metal, and wound his way towards the bar, stopping on the way to hand Garret a small handful of clips as well as a folded letter, who added it to a small stack on the table.
"Ho hoo, my next spoils have arrived." Jack said jokingly, before turning his eye to the letters. "So now that you've made your delivery..."
"Yup, it's back to Elendel. The job went smoothly thanks to you. But I don't want to hang around. I think I'm just waiting on the Coppersons now, then I'll be on my way."
He was in the Northen Roughs. Isaeuc's Bend specifically. the railway was a ways away and he was eager to be off. He would already be gone, but he'd been here several times, and knew it was rare for the town to get a courier from Elendel. He made a point of offering the local families the chance to get letters back to the basin whenever he made a trip. It was a good opportunity for Garret to make some money on the side.
"They won't need you for that soon enough, you know" Jack said, nodding at the pile of letters. "They'll have the wassit. The electric."
Garret scowled. He disliked this electricity business. Many people depended on messaging for their work, but even a coinshot couldn't beat light. Garret himself was more... specialised of course but he still resented the encroachment. "Pfft they've barely got anything set up in the basin, we'll be shaking hands with Ironeyes before they reach the Roughs."
"doesn't take much to lay down a wire and tap out some signals. I heard they're going to put one down by the railroad. If they're taking their time it's only because of that rusted Battery Gang."
"Oh?"
Jack waved a hand dismissively, turning his attention back to their game. "You'll see it when you get back, it'll be in the broadsheets."
Garret nodded absentmindedly, surreptitiously eying his cards. Pocket aces. He squinted, trying not to give anything away as temptation gnawed at him. Finally a good hand, but he knew what would happen if he bet. He hadn't won a hand all morning. He could stop sapping his luck...just for a bit. He could...
But No... he had to stick to his guns. That was the whole point of this after all. The effect of luck was a difficult thing to quantify and measure, and one didn't get very far as a Spinner ferring without a little bit of superstition, and a lot of trial and error.
Truth was, making yourself unlucky was a tricky business. You might as well be a bloodmaker making yourself sick to store health for all the bumps and bruises, stubbed toes and jarred elbows you accumulated as a magnet for misfortune. And if you really doomed yourself, there was the very real chance of being crushed by a falling piano as you passed under a street window. Of course you could seal yourself in an empty room and make yourself as ill-fated as you wanted, and maybe nothing would happen. but maybe you emerged to find out that you'd lost your job and your dog had died.
So Garret did his best to channel his misfortune in a safe, if perhaps not healthy way.
"I raise." he said, voice full of a vain, desperate hope. Right now he was filling his earring, as well as generously filling one his armbands.
Jack met his eyes. "check".
"....."
"Alright then, lets show". The cards seemed to come down slowly. Jack had nothing, a 3,9 unsuited. Garret had the satisfaction of seeing the momentary scowl in his eyes before It was wiped away by amazement as the flop was revealed.
"Full House! What are the chances!? I thought you were bluffing!" he roared with laughter as he added a few crumpled paper notes to blanket his treasure. "Rusts Penrod it's like you've been cursed by Ruin itself."
Garret smiled a secret smile. Perhaps it was irrational of him to gamble unlucky, but how could he expect his luck to save his neck when he needed it without giving back a little? Losing at cards wasn't so bad. He needed his luck for his work, And besides, it helped him get along with the world. Rough ores Like Jack were much more inclined to be friendly if good company also meant earning some cash on the side. And hanging around the Luckshot came with something money couldn't buy. Feeling extra lucky made people feel special. Made them feel like things were meant to go their way. Garret understood that better than anyone. They also enjoyed watching the misfortune of others, as ugly a truth as that may be.
In any case it made him feel better, and kept his secret fear at bay. The fear of his luck running out.
As Jack was recovering from his mirth, a small girl with sunbleached hair wandered up to the table, clutching a brightly coloured envolope. "Scuse me, would you take this to my grandma in Elendel?" she asked shyly.
Garret looked down in suprise "you Copperson's daughter?" he said, adding the letter to the sheaf and receiving a tiny nod in response. "I'll get it to the city for you, sure."
"That's not good enough!" she said fiercely. "You have to make sure she gets it."
"Alright then, I promise" Garret smirked, seeing the address. He was bound for the Sixth Octant anyway. "I'm the legendary Bulletbrusher you know. I've never missed a delivery, so you can count on me."
Jack chuckled. "Looks like you've got your next big assignment". The barstools scraped on the dry wooden floor as the two men rose and clasped hands. "Mr. Penrod."
"Mr. Alamby."
"Next time you're in town stay a couple of days. I'm sure I could bleed you of your next paycheck, but I promise I'll at least teach you to not be so terrible at the rusted game."
"Was good to see you Jack. Thanks again for your help with-"
"Don't mention it."
Garret stretched and shaded his eyes with his hat as strode out into the wide dusty street. Isaeuc's Bend was an isolated place, even for the Roughs. The hard part was reaching the railroad, but from there it was a simple matter of steelpushing himself to the nearest station, then he would be back in no time.
Back to Elendel.
1x Thank
