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The night was still young, Aramis had left to call on Adele, Athos was in his corner staring moodily at his locket contemplating his near death experiences, and Porthos was teaching d’Artagnan Kings.
“Game of cards? First king wins.” Porthos explains shuffling the cards and dealing them out. d’Artagnan starts off fairly strong, Porthos letting him win the first couple hands and then starts using the kings up his sleeves. He did tell Athos that he needed to practice and what better time than the present?
“You can’t possibly be this lucky!” d’Artagnan complains, rapidly losing the money he had set aside for pocket change, his eyes taking a sad hurt look.
Porthos sighs heavily, he’s never been good at resisting those eyes. “Alright, How about I teach you something useful?” d’Artagnan rapidly loses the puppy dog look and becomes intrigued. Porthos continues “Right, now of course I’m not that lucky no one is. What I am is talented.” His mouth stretches into grin as he flourishes his hands to reveal the tips of cards at his wrist.
“But that’s cheating.” d’Artagnan says an indignant expression coloring his face. “Give me back my money!”
“Ahh but then you would lose the lesson.” Porthos chuckles as he starts to explain how to convincingly palm the cards and play them as though from the deck. Halfway through his explanation a morose looking Aramis approaches the table and plops himself down in the chair on the end, taking Porthos’ cup and draining it.
“What happened to spending the evening with Adele?” Porthos asks refilling his cup and the one Aramis left behind before he left. Looking up to encounter the full force of Aramis’ pout.
“She left for the Cardinal’s estate.” Aramis groaned, “She chose him over me.” Pout morphing into full puppy eyes as he looks between Porthos and d’Artagnan for sympathy. d’Artagnan slightly shugs at him while still focused on hiding a card in his sleeve and smoothly removing it. Porthos rolls his eyes.
“Alright that’s it! No more morosely brooding for any of us. Aramis, fetch Athos. d’Artagnan drinks are on you, go get some bottles to take with us.” Porthos demands as he gives d’Artagnan the money he won before. Collecting up the cards and his things. He looks up and glares as they stand motionless for a moment. “Hop to it!”
He grabs Aramis and walks over to Athos’ corner. “Come on, we’re going to Aramis’ for cards and you,” He grabs Athos’ shoulder, “are joining us.”
Athos sputters but once he catches the look on both their faces allows himself to be dragged from the bar one hand still firmly clutching a wine bottle, other fumbling for his hat. As they leave the tavern d’Artagnan catches up to them arms loaded with wine bottles. “ So what’s happening now?”
Porthos takes some of the bottles handing them to his brothers in arms, “Well thanks to all of you looking at me as though I have drowned your kittens despite my best efforts to be cordial, we are going to play a game.” Porthos shines his best smile at the three men following him, to be greeted with mild disdain, a still kicked puppy, and mild confusion. “Right well this way gentlemen.”
In short time they arrived at Aramis’ rooms, he was the only one with a sturdy table and enough chairs for all of them. Porthos opened the door and lead them in plonking himself down.
“Right here’s a game I’ve been working on.” he starts explaining the rules of a decently simple game which just so happens to resemble poker. He gets through gameplay with little trouble until he mentions the bets.
“No, wait we are not betting.”d’Artagnan interrupts. “You’ve taken what little money I’ve had to spend on myself already. Constance is not giving the room out of the kindness of her heart.”
“Ahh but she would if you asked.” Aramis counters, his mood lightening slowly by the company. His face growing more amused as d’Artagnan starts sputtering protests. Aramis just waves his hand. “Well if there is no money to be wagered how about clothes? It is something we all have plenty of and merely removal should suffice as I don’t think any of you have quite the poise to wear my hat.” he suggests, readjusting the hat as emphasis. He looks around at the shrugs he gets from Athos and Porthos. d’Artagnan has gained a little color in his cheeks but acquiesces easily.
“There we are.” Porthos smiles as he deals the first hand.