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WHO: Handsome Jack and Pickles
WHERE: The gambling equivalent of Atlantic City in this dimension
WHEN: Tuesday night.
WARNINGS: gambling, booze, drugs, and strippers? Yeah.
SUMMARY: Gambling time, Jack's being generous and bringing a down-in-his-luck-once-a-multi-millionaire with him to his favorite tables.
FORMAT: WORDS

[A hop, skip, and a fancy-ass town car ride over-- Handsome Jack and Pickles were at the bright lights, smoke-fogged wonderland of the gambling district. Giving a nod to his driver, Jack stepped out of the car, taking a deep breath]

Ahhh... Daddy's home.

[He grinned wide, looking over at the death metalhead beside him]

So. What say you and I hit a strip club? Get some drinks in us, I'll buy ya a lap dance, and we try our hand in some blackjack?

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[Pickles was true to his word and wore his funeral suit. It was as clean as someone like Pickles could make it, but fortunately most of the stains that couldn't get out with soap and water were under the jacket itself. Didn't want to ruin things with the dude with the face that would probably be strange to anyone else but not Pickles since he sees dudes with robot eyes and robot arms and shit like every day but anyway the point is he didn't want to ruin shit with the dude because he really, really wanted that booze and lap dance. He looked at Jack with a look that was almost akin to seeing God.]

Dood, reet now, yer like . . . my very best friend ever.

[That means, yes, Jack's idea was perfect.]

Heh, the night hasn't even started, buddy.

[Jack gave Pickles a hearty pat to the back, giving a nod to a bright neon sign across the way-- a blinking pink florescent light that flickered, showing the broken animation of a woman dancing by a pole. Leading the way, he turned his head to his companion.]

What do ya like? Blondes? Brunettes? Don't matter, as long as she got the kick ass rack and an apple bottom booty? The talent here is actually pretty decent.

[The neon pink light was almost like walking into the light of heaven. Pickles wasn't entirely sure he hadn't died. This would definitely be what he would want to see when he passed on. He follows under his lead easily.]

Oh, gawsh, heh, I dunno! So hard to choose! Like knowin' which kitten to cuddle from a boxfulla 'em! But, heh, like yew said, whichever one gets me purrin' the most when I see 'em is the only way to know fer sure.

[They got in, no problem and sure enough- a nicely dressed strip club: a HUGE bar, several poles located at booths, a main stage, and the expected strip-worthy music playing. On their way to a seat, Jack stopped by to drop their order off with the bartender. Grabbing some beer, they sat down to scope out the dancers. Truly, Pickles had his pick. All were fairly decent looking. There just happened to be one at the main stage really working the pole hard. Taking a swig, Jack hooted.]

Yeah, baby! Ride it!

[He pulled out a couple bills, whistling to get her attention. She slid down and walked towards them, giving them a show of her front and back before getting on all fours. Making eye contact with the man who had the money, she leaned forward and Jack gladly slid the money behind her to wrap on her g-string. He turned his head against hers]

How much for a special dance for my friend here, kitten?

$30, honey~

[He shelled out the cash.]

Treat 'em well. The man needs a pick me up, I figure you can accommodate.

[She took the money and looked at Pickles with a flirty smile. The music was ready to switch out, and as it did she transitioned from being on stage to on the main floor, giving Pickles his well needed dance. All the while, Jack drank, watching the other women and tipping as he saw fit-- The stripper known as Celeste taking good care of the drummer.]

Edited 2012-11-09 07:38 (UTC)

[Pickles talked under Jack as he called at and spoke to the stripper, piping up with useful phrases like "yeh, ride it like it's a fuckin' unicorn...dat's it's horn, yeh!" and "yeh, fuckin' pick me up, been so sad, so sad."

He sat back in his chair, practically lounging as he moved in his still lap like it was a bucking bronco. He knew lap dance protocol, he couldn't move like he was one, even if the desire was there. He instead put that energy into downing his beer and then ordering an even better brand that cost more, but it wasn't on his tab, so who cared. Oh, she threw her ass in his face, that was nice, oh, except..]

Oh, uh, hey, hey, lady, lady whose butt is in my face, heh, yew have this mole like right here, yew might wanna get that looked at and mffe srrf iffs nffin... [She had then turned around to smother his face with boobs which was fine with him. Maybe it was a reward for being so conscientious. He threw Jack a blind thumb's up to show he was having a good time.]

[Jack laughed, actually glad to see the little scamp enjoying himself. He motions for the bartender to come in close and got to chatting. Who's been in here... anyone in particular burning through cash like crazy who may have drank quite a bit and is planning on drinking more. Quirks, recognizable wear. After a couple minutes of questioning, Jack glanced up to see Celeste giving Pickles her last couple of moves to one hell of a dance. He threw back a beer and walked over, snapping his fingers to get the drummer's attention. The stripper turned and winked at Pickles before walking off.]

Just heard of a game that's running hot down the strip a ways in the backroom of a bar called Gilligan's. We should hit a couple tables on our way down to get the streak going, and we'll run that table till they go bankrupt.

[He rose an eyebrow]

Ready to reclaim a small fortune?

[He was chatting with Celeste on just about anything as she was finishing up the dance, was asking her the best way to clean his toilet because it was gross and he didn't have anyone to clean it, when he heard the snapping. He looked over at him obediently, giving the stripper a pleasant wave goodbye to her wink.]

Heh, what nice slut. Uhh, ooh! Yeh! I'm fuckin' ready to make some fuckin' cash. [He stands and dusts off the glitter shit from his pants.] Then mebbe I can buy the Slim Jims that come with some fuckin' cheese, too. What'll we play first? Ehhh, Old Maid or uhhh that ball spinny game orrr....

[Jack just stares at him]

You... literally know nothing about these games, or are you messing with me?

I know 'em! [He gets all defensive, not wanting to look bad in front of his new, rich pal. He couldn't help it when he and the guys usually got together to gamble with cards they just made shit up on the fly.] Oh! 21, that one, I that one! [Beat.] Are we playin' that one?

[Yeah, Jack's not impressed. He pats Pickles on the back.]

Blackjack? My bread and butter. [Of course besides poker] At least it sounds like you know that one.

[A pity pat is better than being told to get the hell out, so he's cool with it.]

Yeh, sure, yew count up to 21 and dun go over, it's simple. Is that what we're goin' to go play? [Hopeful.]

[He nods]

Sure. Blackjack it is.

[He didn't trust Pickles anywhere near a roulette or a craps table. They walked out of the titty bar, and moved down the strip-- not taking long before Jack found a promising Blackjack table. It was something moderately priced that would gain them a couple hundred if they played their cards right. It was also a chance to see how the musician fared in all this, so Jack knew how much help the schmuck needed.

Sitting at the table, Jack held his head above water for the longest time. It wasn't until the fourth or fifth play, that he started hitting a hot streak. Pretty soon he would get a hefty chunk of change that he'd feel good about leaving the table and making eyes towards the next one.]

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