A Stranger

"Taste, I have found, is not born. It is acquired. By a certain, err, je ne sais quoi, I suppose. I always reckoned it had a lot to do with the width and depth of one's experience. And some people," she gestured with her head, "ain't exactly burdened with an overabundance of life experience." It occurred to her that she should not perhaps not be mocking the people around the table, especially with who they likely were, but Zulime was here to take risks. Hell, she would not have stepped into this absolute dive of a bar had she wanted to play it safe.

Zulime was watching Beckett like a hawk. She saw the look of disappointment in her eyes, and did her best to conceal her smile. Last hand was the redhead's turn to bluff like a madwoman. Zulime wanted to inject a little bit of fun into the evening. The flop had not come out yet, but Zulime was pushing the ante up a little bit. Not so much to be pot committed, of course, but just enough to make things a little bit hotter.

"Of course I am still in for the bottle of wine. Once you are in, you are in, no?" The way she posed the question made it seem like she had asked that same question, done that same shrug, and smiled that same smile a thousand times before. That level of tempered insouciance could only come with quite a lot of practice, and Zulime considered herself lucky that she had done that in spades.

When Beckett lifted her glass, she lifted her glass as well. Before she raised it to her lips, she saw that the redhead was not drinking. Her eyes darted from one person to the next, and she saw that everyone else was drinking. The response was nothing short of Pavlovian. Zulime chuckled into her red wine quietly. The Riverboat Queen did not take a sip. She would not be one of these dogs who had heard the bell ring and came running for their meat.

One of the men at the table was intimidated by Zulime's bet, and folded. Another man threw in some chips with a look of disgust on his face. Her head now turned to Beckett. With great elegance, Zulime flicked some of her dark hair from her face as she watched the redheaded woman with great interest.

Beckett couldn't help but smirk just slightly as Zulime expressed her thoughts on taste for the extravagant. While they both seemed to share a sentiment such things weren't innately born into a person, she wouldn't had agreed with the notion it came about by simply being experienced or worldly. Of course, there was no shortage of fine connoisseur who went to the farthest reaches of the world in search of the perfect taste, or someone who studied a wine so intensely they could pinpoint every miniscule detail of its making… then there were those born with a silver spoon in their mouth, raised on the finer things to the point they became a normality.

The beauty in red hadn't been raised to appreciate the finer things really. She didn't like them because they tasted better, went down smoother, or looked better. Her taste wasn't honed by study, love of the craft, or anything outside of a personal drive to take what she, by all accounts should not have. If it were easy to obtain, where was the fun in that? No planning, no chase, no sense of anticipation. It's why no matter how much money she had or how well off she was, there was always a thirst for something more. This evening was no different. She didn't want these people’s money simply to become richer… she wanted it because it belonged to them and not her.

She couldn't over indulge in Zulmine just yet. She had a gave of cards to win which required a great deal of her focus. Casting her eyes doubtful of the bet to the side, heisting as she picked out her chips to put in, then reconsidering for a moment before tossing them in to call. This woman was good, brash, and was no doubt use to being in a position of power wherever she roamed. The redhead would play to that, making it seem as though her cool exterior was crumbling to this woman. The table may have been playing poker, but Beckett was more interested in playing Zulmine.

With a soft sigh she nodded, forcing a smile to portrait half hearted confidence. “Of course, I wouldn't want to pass up that bottle, at your expense.” Beckett lifted the corners of her cards, pretending to check them again before her eyes drifted back across the way to her mark. The table was yet another body lighter, the lesser competition dropping like flies around them. She caught the other woman's eyes briefly, playing coy and looking off to the flop as the cards were flipped in the center of the table.

Zulime eyed Beckett cautiously. The woman was either one of the finest poker players that Zulime had ever seen, or a total novice. That first hand weighed heavy in her mind, where the woman threw chip after chip in on a clearly terrible hand. The Cajun girl paused. Her hand was not that much better, all things considered. She had won that through sheer luck. The Riverboat Queen was not one to mistrust her vibes, and the aura she was getting from this woman gave her more than a moment's doubt. She moved her leg a little bit, under the table. The significant consternation she was feeling had to be let out, some way. Zulime just hoped that the redhead did not see it.

The flop came. Seven of diamonds. Two of hearts. King of clubs. Zulime was a thousand miles distant from anything, but she was doing her best not to show it. The Riverboat Queen narrowed her eyes, clenched her fist, and sat back in her chair. Beckett may as well have been the only one at this table who was not a total donkey, and she recognized that her next play was going to be a very big one. She could not waste it.

"Tell me suga', how much do you believe in luck?" Zulime smiled faintly as she threw a small bet in. "All them statistics textbooks I read informed little ole me that it ain't more than random chance. Yet I have found some folks ain't got much, yet others are all but overburdened. Zulime rested her elbow on the table and her chin on her fist. She struck up the pose of the Thinker as she pondered. "And I have found that yet others have a wonderful capacity to make their own luck." She tilted her head a little bit, and did her best to peer into Beckett's soul.

"But that ain't anythin' more than a bunch of hoodoo, if you ask me." Zulime chuckled a little bit and sat back in her chair. What she did not mention was that she had a gris gris bag on her person, one that she considered to be particularly fortunate. Zulime spread her arms wide, entreating an audience of one. The Riverboat Queen looked at the flop again and recognized that she was going to need to create all the luck her Louisianan bones possibly could.

Zulime placed a small bet forward. It wasn't enough to cause a whole lot of chaos. But she was just trying to see how the redhead would play it. After all, you don't get anything good if you don't stir the pot occasionally.

The vision in red seemed to have mellowed slightly once the stakes had been made, as if there was more than money and fine spirits hinging on the outcome of this hand. It was hard for her to mask her usual self which would float above such things and take them in stride. Right not, she needed to lean into what would put Zulime at ease with her, which meant letting the force of personality that was the Riverboat Queen seem to be the more dominant role between there interactions. She had to bribe herself into playing possum with the thought of how sweet the fruits of her labors would be once she stole this hand away from her only real competition at the table.

Her focus had been split between the flop as each card was flipped and Zulime as she spoke. Her neutral expression sported a faint downward curl at the edge of her lips into a frown as each was revealed. What made her so believable was how faint the traces of emotion were and how fleeting they faded. Had someone not been paying attention they could have been missed, easily. Beckett’s plan of luring her foe in relied solely on how attentive and sharp eyed she thought Zulmine to be which is what also gave her act a feeling of credibility.

The redhead let slip a soft chortle, leaning back in her chair with a gentle sigh as if the question had broken past some barrier of tension that the game had been erecting between them. She was a firm believer in crafting one's own luck, in the sense she could and would use everything at her disposal to tip the scales. Her idea of gambling tended to weigh heavily into the side of only making bets that were certain, not because the odds were favorable but because she had assured she secured the outcome through chicanery. That was how she made her own luck… of course she wasn't going to be honest about it though. Why start now?

“Luck?” Beckett pursed her deep crimson lips, tapping her chin lightly with a lace covered finger as if the question required deep insightful thought. “While I consider myself to be rather fortunate, after all, I am here in such fine company…” She gestured with a flourished sweep of her arm around the table. Two of the men still delt into the hand grinned like fools, one of which gave the air a small kiss at her. What a charmer. One seemed unphased, older, gruffer, annoyed in general at Zulmine and Beckett’s back and forth slowing the game. “I feel some are just blessed.” It was truly horrifying how a smile so pure and genuine could come from someone as deceitful as the redhead. She was a model example that with enough practice, anything were possible.

She made a small show of counting her chips and checking her cards again, stacking just enough to make it appear as though she were considering raising. After a brief moment of thought, she seemed to backpedaled on that to simply call the raise Zulmine had made. Had the two been playing a straight hand, she would have been making a poor attempt at working the pot high… this game however had a small wrinkle though. No matter how large or small the pot, Zulmine was forced to play it out due to their agreement.

She had plans once everything came to a head, for now much of her braisen betting and confident chatter seemed to have been dialed back to play a more serious hand… though it was all really part of the same light hearted game to her in reality. "Tell me... Do you practice any of this so called hoodoo?" The woman tilted her head with a small innocent smile. She had a faint hint of something in her silver eyes... Hunger perhaps? A faint glimpse into something beyond the surface of their game of cards.

Zulime watched Beckett like a hawk. There was something there. It was fleeting, and fast, and possibly fake, but it was there. With the same passing as the lightest breath of wind, the shiver of disappointment appeared on the redhead's face and dissipated just as quickly, but Zulime saw it. And with that knowledge, she felt like she could accomplish a lot. The Riverboat Queen was already pot committed, essentially, but it was nice that she could check out just a bit and imagine what the nicest wine would taste like. The other facets of this place's service did not inspire much faith in their sommelier, but still, she imagined that it would somehow be quite sweet.

But there was still a little bit longer to go. This woman had a wonderful sense of showmanship. The deep purse of the lips, the sweep of the arm. Zulime would have been more than happy to find her a place on the riverboat, should she seek one. And then once she was there, well, who could resist Zulime going after anyone at a full gallop and with mischief in her eyes? But she was getting ahead of herself again. The smile she wore faded from her face. It was time to hunker down, to bring the business of this hand to a close. She eyed Beckett's bet, and then tried to hide her satisfaction when she pushed it forward. The Riverboat Queen would be remiss if she were to deny her heart fluttering when Beckett toyed with the larger bet.

"Well, I ain't ever been much into hanging meat out on the street, or running a knife through chickens, if that is what you're askin'." She leaned back in her chair, and thought for a second. How was she going to play this? What could she say to make herself look good and strike fear into the heart of an opponent. "Yet, I have found that there has always been a certain," she paused for a second, and made it appear as if she were thinking, "power, I reckon, in symbols. Be they good, or otherwise." Zulime smiled darkly. "And I ain't that shy that I wouldn't admit that I have lit a few candles, danced with a few snakes, and had my fortune read. And that last one, I will have you know," she extended her index finger up to the sky, trying to summon down the authority of a loa, "that my fortunes ain't ever been anythin' other than good." She sat back in her chair, and contemplated for a second. "And even if it ain't real, well, it ain't hurtin' anything, I suppose." She shrugged.

"But I suppose I talked a little bit too much about myself. Hope you don't think me rude," she waved her hand, dismissing any claims of boorishness preemtively, "but what about you? You got any voodoo dolls I need to be aware of?" She asked with a knowing grin and a quiet chuckle.

The gentleman who was perturbed at the game's slow pace threw his hand forward, grabbed his chips, and left the table for another. Zulime hardly made a note of him leaving, other than the fact that a few of his chips dropped. It would have hardly been a classy move to scramble after them, and with such a talent in front of her, she did not want to disappoint. There was hunger in that woman's eyes, and the table was her stage. She was more of a jack of all trades than she was a master of one, so she was going to have to bring her best game tonight. The stage was getting awfully crowded.

Zulime leaned forward. She wanted to see the flop. She wanted to see how Beckett would answer. She wanted everything in the world, and the look of pure confidence on her face belied that fact. Even if her hand was terrible, the wine was really getting to her now, and there was no reason that she should expect anything other than dismal failure in the next five minutes. The important thing, she thought, was that you simply had to believe.

The vision in red shifted, crossing her legs beneath the table as she listened intently to Zulime. She seemed amused when the game itself was not the topic of conversation, careful uphold her well constructed act of trepidation though any time when dealing with her hand, the chips, or the unfolding deal before them. It came across as a woman struggling to maintain control of the situation despite never once having lost it in actuality. A lifetime of being a liar had tempered her far better than a formal career as an actress would have.

“Danced with snakes. Intriguing.” Leaning in, she propped her elbow lightly on the table. Her chin rested easily on two laced fingers as she watched her mark across the table. “I am almost certain some at this table would pay to see that.” Her lips parted in a cool crisp smirk that she owned every day of her life. The few men still at the table shuffled a bit in place uncomfortable either at the banter between these two or in the realization they would have thrown down a sizable amount of yen to see that sort of show here tonight. Beckett’s mind was elsewhere though, she was the snake in this case, one that would coil around the other woman and claim her with a bite. Wistful thinking, perhaps, but who could say what Zulmine would do after the cards finally fell.

She had so many questions, just a want to continue to pick this woman's brain for more insight into who she was and how everything under the hood worked. What symbol would she associate with herself was the top of the list though. Self reflection was a telling thing and with someone with this loud of a personality was sure to have a good answer, if not amusing. She relented though, not wanting to seem too interested otherwise she risked a shift in power, a real one.

“I haven't been to see a fortune teller, I always thought it sounded fun, in proper company. To share ones future for a laugh.” Beckett gave a small smile with a hint of warm. She seemed wistful, appearing true to her words despite having seen all manner of soothsayers and fortune tellers with her carny life. She had even impersonated her fair share in her day. Her head lifted slightly, enough to tap her chin gently with both fingers before she leaned back all the way. "If you were to tell my future, what do you think you'd find?"

Once the next card hit the table, she looked at it from the corner of her vision. Once again she lifted the edging of her card to look at her own options with a rather neutral expression. A small distraction, her attention returned to Zulmine rather quickly as if to avoid giving anything away from her hand, playing at seeming nervous and jumpy.

“Rude? Hmm. No no… forward perhaps? Bold… audacious. I like that actually.” She lofted her chin, peering down her nose at Zulmine with a great deal of consideration. She mouthed the word “audacious” in silence, a smirk forming on her delicate features. She seemed quite smitten with the word as it related to her new acquaintance.

“I can't say I keep any voodoo dolls, nor do I believe in such things. Utter nonsense.” She waved a hand lightly, pausing in place before leaning back in. “You wouldn't happen to have any spare locks of hair or a drop or two of blood just laying about would you? No real reason for asking, of course.” She flashed a grin, her tone made it obvious she was joking. She had considered playing it straight, but hadn't wanted to raise suspicion her other behavior was also a ruse.

Zulime watched, and waited. For what, she was not entirely sure. She would accept a miracle with great alacrity, but she was sure all of the luck in the world was not going to suffice to turn her hand into one that could win anything. There was an axe that was going to fall, and it was going to fall awfully quickly, and she recognized that. But if the Riverboat was headed down, she may as well play the best song she possibly could. Her eyes were cast down at the next card as it came. The dealer deftly turned over another king, and a plan formed in Zulime's head. In reality, all she had was a pair of sevens, but she might as well act like she were the king of the world.

She placed another bet forward. It was middling. "Dancin' with snakes ain't really somethin' that you just see. You gotta experience it," she said with a smirk that nearly matched Beckett's own, "and it ain't just dancin'. There is a mood to it, an art to it. Dancers have to find a rhythm, and then create their own. A lot more to it than just shakin' yer cans," Zulime finished her statement with a graceful flourish of her hand. She knew that it wasn't a real conversation, and it was just a throwaway statement. But still, she felt that she had to defend her honor, as it were.

Zulime noticed that Beckett was looking at her cards, and did not quite know what to make of it. It was entirely possible that she had the winning hand. Hell, it was downright likely. But if Zulime was determined to go out with a flourish. "I don't know. Reckon I could never see into the future too far. Hell, don't know how far into the past I can see, given where I am." She tilted her head to the side, and pretended to think hard. "But for you, I see, hmmmmm," she paused, giving herself a moment to think, "a great struggle. Titanic, really. And maybe you win, maybe you don't. But you ain't coming out of it looking so pretty." Zulime looked away, and blinked, as if she had been in a trance. "But that is mostly just guessin'. Always been a little bit better at readin' cards, so why don't you flip over them cards of yours and I'm gonna tell you exactly what is going to happen next," she said with a laugh.

The compliment came, and it rung in Zulime's ears. "Oh, stop it with all that talk of boldness. You know you are gonna make a shy little girl like me blush." She chuckled. "And I wouldn't mind givin' you a whole clump o' hair, provided we are both sweatin', of course." All that playing with chips was just for fun. Now she was really upping the ante.

If Beckett had a hand worth sharing, her expression didn't say it, if anything she appeared flustered as the next card was overturned, prompting her to once again check her cards. The turn had been an interesting one, giving their game an added wrinkle. Beyond the veil of uncertainty she wore, the woman beneath the surface had remained unshaken, resolute to see this through and maintain her guise to the very end. It would no doubt be worth it when everything came to a close. Her choice of the establishment's drink with victory to hang over Zulime's head. What would the riverboat queen do to try to even the score if the redhead took this game from her? She wasn't sure, but was all too willing to string the other woman along for everything she was worth, material or otherwise.

Her thumb slipped off the bent edges of the cards, letting them softly smack back to the table as she mulled over her hand, perhaps even what her opponent across the table had to say as well. "A great struggle." She mused softly as her silver eyes flitted from card to card the dealer had laid out before them. Once the initial bet was thrown in, she did nothing more than call once again. Her gaze shifted back to Zulime, just in time to observe her looking away. Her painted lips tugged at the corners, forming a small smirk. "I'll have to be very careful than, I suppose."

A laced finger tapped at her lower lip once, twice, than settled, applying just enough force to pull at it gently downward letting her mouth remain slightly open as she made a thoughtful, yet suggestive sigh that caught the attention of the dealer. "Mmm. I think I'll leave my cards as they lay, for now." Beckett's hand hovered over top of her face down cards, two fingers lightly drumming the backs of each. "No need to rush, I like to take things nice and slow. It gives me time to soak it all in and really enjoy myself." Her silver gaze had remained locked on Zulime as she spoke in a low, soft tone. Was she still talking about poker? "Besides, we wouldn't what to spoil the climax, would we?" The question seemed addressed to the table as a whole, a few moments passing before those who remained looked among one another before slowly nodding along. They seemed to only be here to see this to its natural conclusion at this point.

"Perhaps I should pamper you a bit more than, a extra bit of color would look nice on you. Red especially." The tip of her tongue briefly slipped between her lips, rolling along the painted surface before hiding away again. "Once I win, I'll have a whole bottle to myself. A shame really, perhaps you'd like to share? I'm fond of souvenirs you see. A lovely braid of dark hair would prove to be a more memorable find, to be certain." She gave the faintest of breathy chuckles. "Sweat? Me? No, I glow. Though, you are welcome to try and tucker me out." She gave a small wink.

Zulime was trying to read things. It was hard, given that Beckett was doing what she could to make herself nigh unreadable. Doubt was beginning to foment itself in that head of hers, and she knew that may as well have been the deathknell at her shot at winning the bottle of wine. Resigned to her fate, Zulime decided to go out with great flair. When she was a little kid, she always wondered what she would do if her parents' riverboat started sinking. Even as a young girl she thought that she was going to live it up for as long as she could while she still could, and start leading the party in heaven. Or hell.

She grabbed one chip too many and put it forward, pretending that she had anything at all. "What you got?" Zulime asked with half a laugh, knowing full well that her opponent was never going to show her hand in a thousand years. "Do you reckon you can read a person like you can read the future? Or if those are even two different things?" Zulime was not quite sure if she was asking herself or Beckett at this point, nor was she entirely sure that such a thing would even matter. "See, cause I am reckoning you are talking a big game, but you ain't got much. Talkin' all that nice and slow. There is a difference between slow and inert," she extended a finger up to the sky, "and I have always found that when the time is right the person with the most energy," she sat back in her chair, "usually comes away from the entanglement feelin' a little bit better."

She then shrugged. "But what do I know? Reckon a lot of things are out o' our hands entirely." That silvery look of Beckett's was to die for. Zulime could not help but feel tempted, and tried a little bit to give off the tempting vibes of her own. She turned her head a little bit, to let her hair conceal half of her face in darkness. "Yah, red is my color? A little too much for lil' ole' me sometimes. Ain't exactly right, somethin' about it, just don't know. Always preferred gold myself."

Zulime adjusted in her chair. Maybe she had extended herself a little bit too far. Perhaps Beckett would read a little bit too much into what Zulime was saying. But maybe not. She remembered the image of the sinking riverboat, and smiled again. Things were getting quite hot, and Zulime wanted to feel the moment.

"Souvenirs?" She half said, half asked. "What does a gal like me gotta do to take a peak at some of the things that you collected?" Zulime was not a shy woman, and had no qualms about showing interest in the possessions that Beckett had. "Bet you seen some things." She could not help but snicker a little bit.

"And regardin' that tuckerin' you out..." She sat up in her chair, and puffed her chest out a little bit. Sure, she wanted to entice Beckett, but it was also a show of pride, "you betta watch what you wish for. Lest someone like me comes along and gives it to ya..."