For want of something more., -open-

[purple epidemic]

It was the weekend. Families gathered, some sot ways to entertain themselves and spend their hard earned money. These people you could usually find in the rag-tag casino's, showy things that you find in back end parts of mid-America where the FFA attended Poker-night on a monthly basis. Those casino's smell like old smoke and over-perfumed air freshener and the winnings, while few, are meager.

This was not one of those casinos.

Loopy music in league with the flashing lights of the slot machines was in a far part of the building. Cool blues and greens mingled with the white light as it glowed upon the few patrons of the Exclusive Room of the Casino Fortuna. Beethoven played some of his finest through New Wave meditation musicians while cards were being dealt on matte black tables by dealers wearing matte black ties. An expansive bar could be seen in the back of the room, it's many bottled shelves glowing the same blue-green as the light from above.
Sitting in a tall dark bar stool was a man in a very nice gray suit with strangely unruly short hair. Thin black framed glasses perched upon his nose as his eyes glimmered strangely behind them. He raised his glass to his slightly thin lips and took a drink.

August was wasting time, as usual. He long ago grew tired of gambling, as he became decreasingly excited about the idea of large sums of money and the increasing ease at play. He had been playing poker for so long he had become extremely proficient. August had become quite skilled in many things, over the years. He found ways to busy himself through many of the long hours, but it was almost completely alone. Now again he craved the company of a peer, a fellow man to share his thoughts and questions about the strange new age they were upon.
This thought drove August to the casino, a place to meet other estranged persons.

As usual, he found his place at the bar. His face was grim and he said little to the barkeep who waited upon him. August was looking for someone, and he would know when he saw them.

[Grace]

James loved casinos. Really, really loved them. In his opinion, in the event of the zombie apocalypse, the casinos had everything a man needed to survive! Drink, women, song, food, and an endless, recycling supply of money to buy it all with. He doesn't much consider the complications a zombie apocalypse would introduce to the situation, but we let the boy have his fun.

Living dead or not, nothing could bring the mood down because James was in top form. He started the evening off easy with a few games of Blackjack, raising his confidence as well as betting power. Soon enough, girls were blowing on his dice, and it was like something out of a movie. He won more often than he lost and a crowd was even cheering him on. But even without the bourbon in his system, James would have been drunk off the energy of his peers. Once he got to the poker tables, he had it all in the bag. He'd always been a good card player, and was well versed in several dialects of body language. All it took was a few limbs to lie, and the money was enough to make him leave a very happy man-seal.

So it was with a bucket of chips in one hand and a handful of woman in the other that the selkie made his way over to the bar.

He sauntered up with a pair of black dress pants on, shuffling his shiny black shoes up to the barman while his dark hands pulled out a few chips to lay on the counter.

"Drinks all around!" he declared, flashing his bright smile around to the rest of the bar and basked in the glow of their cheers. His red dress shirt was hanging open to where it tucked in at the waist, showing off the wife-beater he wore underneath. The girl's hands were tugging at his white satin tie and pushing through the short curls of James' hair. With a grin, he pulled her closer and whispered something into her ear, probably a room number. Sure enough, she reached into his pocket and pulled out the thin card of his room key and giggled when he swatted her butt at her retreat.

When the girl was gone and the bartender had tended bar, James whisked his shot off the counter, raising it to toast the rest of the room.

"My friends!" rang the announcement, "My friends, here's to tonight! To feeling alive and feeling lucky! May the tables stay hot, the dice fly true, and may Lady Fortune be yours tonight!"

He knocked back the shot and stumbled over his own feet when he turned to order another. He fell down, absolutely ringing with good natured laughter at his fall, and picked right back up again, no worse for the wear.

James leaned back on the bar and closed his eyes in pure bliss.

[purple epidemic]

Taking another sip from his glass, August looked over at the drunken reveler. His gaze was one of pain and longing, masked by doubt and long years solitude. How many years has it been, he asked himself, from a time in which I would have celebrated with this man... shared his joy. Am I so withdrawn that I cannot congratulate him? No, I would say not.

Finishing his glass the Alchemist set it down on the counter.

"It would seem that the Lady Fortune has already lain with you tonight, sir. By your manner, I would say you have had quite the night."

[Grace]

It took James a second to realize that he was being addressed. Between the buzz of the crowd and the fog of his drink, it hadn't really registered. Somewhere in his lame excuse for a brain, two long lost synapses rejoiced in overdue reunion. Someone's speaking to him? Oh yes..muscles twitched with only enough effort to allow James' head to roll on his shoulder in the general direction of focused noise. He opened his eyes and s sly smile split across his face.

"She ain't done sleepin' with me yet. We've still got a whole 'nother chorus before that Lady sings. Keep your ears peeled," he chuckled, pushing himself back on his feet.

James had the rather unsteady gait of Too-Drunk-Too-Quick, but the confidence and swagger of one with experience. He loped over to the alchemist and leaned his elbows on the bar.

"What's your toxin, man, lemme buy you a drink," it didn't matter that he already had, really. What was important was that August was there, right in front of James and so was the sole recipient of his charity, "Or maybe I could get you something that smells a little nicer," nudge nudge, "if you know what I mean."

[purple epidemic]

His mouth slightly twitching upwards in a grin, August shook his head at the inebriated fellow before him.
"No, a Scotch will be fine, but we have not yet been introduced. I am August." He said, bowing his head.

[Grace]

James' head went forward too, but more in disbelief than in greeting. The look on his face said, Whaaaat? No way!. So did his voice, but in different words, "You're August? Like, August August?"

[purple epidemic]

Augusts eyebrows raised slightly in surprise.
"You know of me?"

[Grace]

James laughed. And kept laughing for a few seconds simply because he enjoyed the sound of his own voice.

"Dude," his grin broke up the word, "Dude, I knew there were gods. But I thought it was like, just like...I dunno, stuff. Not months and stuff!"

[purple epidemic]

August shook his head and pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose.

"I am no God." He said, his voice lined with feint humor. "And you seem to be fairly drunk." August grinned.

[Grace]

The boy's shoulders went up in the suggestion of a shrug. A ways away, there was laughter. James glanced towards the sound and the suggestion turned into admission. "Damn straight."

"It's more fun this way. You should try it."

[purple epidemic]

August lifted his glass to his lips after giving a suggesting look to the man before him, as if to say, 'here, I'm drinking!'

"Drink does not drown sorrows as it once did, I'm afraid." He said after finishing his glass. "But I still do not have your name, my inebriated sir."

[Grace]

"M'name's James. Y'see, the difference between us, Mr. August, is that I am a happy drunk. I drink to enhance my situation. You are a wet blanket. Heavy, dull, and you're starting to mildew." This meant, of course, in the most polite way possible. James may have been happy, but he was still impaired. So even as the boy narrowed his eyes to assess his drinking partner, his mind was sailing at half speed.

The boy was struck as if by revelation from the gods in the heavens. It was deep.

"You need something, man."

[purple epidemic]

August shrugged at the accusation. It was something he was regrettably aware of, though rarely he moved to correct this fault of character. Life had lost much of its zest and he was floating through. But as James, as he knew now, looked to him and made his statement, Aubrey found it hard to remain nonchalant. Silver-gray eyes closed as he tried to stay ... normal. Clearing his throat he looked to James.

"Oh? And what would that be?"

[Grace]

"I dunno, man," James shrugged, too, "I'm not your fairy-godfather." He sucked something out from between his teeth. After picking at it with his fingernail, he held it up for examination. He must have been drunk, because he doesn't ever remember eating that. His eyebrows quirked up in surprise while his eyes gave his bar-mate a once over.

"Maybe you need a good night with a not-so-good woman. Or a few weeks in prison. Or getting held over a deep ravine with nothing but a rope between you and almost-certain death. We all need different things. Maybe you should try harder to find yours."