sam(uel) drake. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
withmeinparadise) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
meadowlarklogs2020-11-12 07:31 pm
withmeinparadise) wrote in meadowlarklogs2020-11-12 07:31 pm
Entry tags:
just too many outlaws trying to work the same line
WHO: sam drake and YOU
WHERE: casinos, bars, fighting rings, dreams
WHEN: july 15 - 23, 2512
WHAT: bumming around, general opportunities to have to deal with this guy
NOTES OR WARNINGS: if you'd like a prompt specific to your character, please pm this journal or reach out to![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
prettydoes. warnings tbd.
i. let you in for free and they hit you when you go
Sam's got a couple of posts at the casino he works in, moving from one to another depending on the shift. It's the closest he's ever gotten to a straight job--if still in service of not-entirely-straight ends--and he's taken to it admirably.
You might find him behind the bar on the gambling floor. It's nothing fancy, just the place your drinks come from if you order one while you're playing slots. It keeps him busy as hell, though he's happy to talk if you belly up to the bar and start bugging him during his shift.
Or you might find him at a table, managing an electronic game he used to play with cards back home. He's less willing to chat there, marginally more so if he's on a break or going from one part of the casino to another. Who knows? If it's important enough...
Regardless, though, don't forget to tip.
ii. he's been known to down eleven, then ask for another round.
After work--or on free days--he ends up at bars, more often than not. They're comfortable to him, familiar even in the future, and he's happy to nurse a few drinks for hours while shooting the shit with somebody. Or there's pool to play, or darts. Arguments to have about stupid bullshit? Music to listen to.
Sometimes it's Red Wings, sometimes it's another place, the Mermaid or Inertia or God knows where else. You want to catch Sam in a decent mood, it's not a bad place to find him.
iii. six gun drawn and ready to fan
He's not the regular he could be in the underground fighting rings, mostly because it turns out having a sorta-straight job makes black eyes pretty unappealing. But for a little extra money? It's worth it. And it's--again--an atmosphere that he's familiar with, one that's weirdly nostalgic in some ways for him.
You might end up put in the ring against him--which might suck, or it might not. Otherwise, he's always up for comparing opinions on who's gonna win this fight or that one, or maybe getting drinks and sitting around with the sound of some idiots pummeling each other in the background.
iv. there's a light on yonder mountain
When he's asleep, he ends up all over the place. Walking the sloped roof of an old church like a balance beam, the lights of an old city spreading out in every direction. Clambering over an ancient stone wall, foot skidding on lichen, in the middle of a tropical forest. Riding a motorbike down an empty highway in a desert. Standing in the middle of a ring of men, prisoners, facing down someone who looks ready to knock his lights out. Peering into the mouth of a cave, a lit torch ready in his hand.
Sometimes he looks like him. Sometimes he looks like a him that might've existed ten, twenty, thirty years ago.
And when he notices he's not alone--"What the hell're you doing here?"
v. and it's calling me to shine
[Wildcard? Wildcard. Hit me.]
WHERE: casinos, bars, fighting rings, dreams
WHEN: july 15 - 23, 2512
WHAT: bumming around, general opportunities to have to deal with this guy
NOTES OR WARNINGS: if you'd like a prompt specific to your character, please pm this journal or reach out to
i. let you in for free and they hit you when you go
Sam's got a couple of posts at the casino he works in, moving from one to another depending on the shift. It's the closest he's ever gotten to a straight job--if still in service of not-entirely-straight ends--and he's taken to it admirably.
You might find him behind the bar on the gambling floor. It's nothing fancy, just the place your drinks come from if you order one while you're playing slots. It keeps him busy as hell, though he's happy to talk if you belly up to the bar and start bugging him during his shift.
Or you might find him at a table, managing an electronic game he used to play with cards back home. He's less willing to chat there, marginally more so if he's on a break or going from one part of the casino to another. Who knows? If it's important enough...
Regardless, though, don't forget to tip.
ii. he's been known to down eleven, then ask for another round.
After work--or on free days--he ends up at bars, more often than not. They're comfortable to him, familiar even in the future, and he's happy to nurse a few drinks for hours while shooting the shit with somebody. Or there's pool to play, or darts. Arguments to have about stupid bullshit? Music to listen to.
Sometimes it's Red Wings, sometimes it's another place, the Mermaid or Inertia or God knows where else. You want to catch Sam in a decent mood, it's not a bad place to find him.
iii. six gun drawn and ready to fan
He's not the regular he could be in the underground fighting rings, mostly because it turns out having a sorta-straight job makes black eyes pretty unappealing. But for a little extra money? It's worth it. And it's--again--an atmosphere that he's familiar with, one that's weirdly nostalgic in some ways for him.
You might end up put in the ring against him--which might suck, or it might not. Otherwise, he's always up for comparing opinions on who's gonna win this fight or that one, or maybe getting drinks and sitting around with the sound of some idiots pummeling each other in the background.
iv. there's a light on yonder mountain
When he's asleep, he ends up all over the place. Walking the sloped roof of an old church like a balance beam, the lights of an old city spreading out in every direction. Clambering over an ancient stone wall, foot skidding on lichen, in the middle of a tropical forest. Riding a motorbike down an empty highway in a desert. Standing in the middle of a ring of men, prisoners, facing down someone who looks ready to knock his lights out. Peering into the mouth of a cave, a lit torch ready in his hand.
Sometimes he looks like him. Sometimes he looks like a him that might've existed ten, twenty, thirty years ago.
And when he notices he's not alone--"What the hell're you doing here?"
v. and it's calling me to shine
[Wildcard? Wildcard. Hit me.]