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yolandekleinn[This ficlet takes place one year before the events of An Intimate Charade. It's self-indulgent as hell, so indulge me. :)]
Poker
"You're doing it again." Valdez's tone landed somewhere midway between exasperation and amusement.
Galin blinked and raised his eyes from the cards in his hand. He was reasonably confident he hadn't let his grip shift enough to show what he held, which meant Valdez was pointing out one of his other strategic shortcomings. There were plenty to choose from, and Galin didn't know which he might have tripped over this time.
"Doing what again?"
"Scowling at your cards. When you glare at your hand like that, I can tell you've got nothing to bet on." Amusement edged out exasperation by a sliver.
The scowl Galin hadn't even realized he was wearing deepened. He did have a terrible set of cards in front of him. Not so much as a pair of twos to work with. He'd been at this long enough—had sorted out the rules and patterns at Valdez's guidance—to recognize a bad start.
"I don't understand this game." He set the cards down without bothering to hide them. They fanned across the table face-up, a spread of abstract numbers and designs. Diamonds, clubs, spades. And something Valdez insisted on calling 'hearts', though they looked like no heart Galin had ever seen. "If winning or losing is random chance, what's the point of practice?"
He did not bother asking why Valdez had insisted he needed to learn in the first place. For one thing, Valdez tended to be practical enough that when he grew insistent about something, it was generally worth listening. For another, Addison Valdez was the only Human amid Galin's otherwise Remian crew—and when he wanted to introduce them to some particularly Human concept, no one ever refused. Both kindness and pragmatism weighed in favor of hearing Valdez out, and when the results were things like Terran coffee in the galley, well. Everyone considered that a victory.
And of course here, tonight, just the two of them alone in the ship's common room… Of course Galin would humor Valdez's newest personal crusade. But he wouldn't mind understanding it too.
"That is the point," Valdez insisted. Despite his obvious intensity, he kept his voice down in deference to the fact that it was the middle of the night. The rest of the tiny crew slept in their quarters only a short corridor away. "The cards are only the baseline information. You can win with the worst possible hand, or lose with the best. It's all about convincing your opponent to walk away first. Or reeling them in to keep going if you've got something really good."
Galin's brow furrowed as he absorbed this explanation. All the while he watched Valdez's animated enthusiasm fill the little room. Considering the entire reason Galin was in the common room at this hour was a restless inability to sleep, it didn't seem fair for Valdez to be so energized and wide awake. Galin's own eyes were gritty with exhaustion—though since Valdez had joined him, his desire to try and sleep had turned almost nonexistent.
It was rare indeed that he permitted himself to enjoy Valdez's company away from professional pursuits.
Now, with the lights low and the table covered in components of Valdez's educational efforts, Galin couldn't help appreciating this unlikely and personal glimpse. Valdez's hair was sleep-tousled—staticky and asymmetrical—hanging loose down to his shoulders. His eyes were shadowed with deep circles and yet he managed to look completely alert, a familiar but vexing contradiction. His mouth wore a perpetual smirk, curling up at one corner like he couldn't quite help it.
Beautiful as always, and yet so different from the focused and put-together Human who would inevitably barge into Galin's office come morning.
As always, Galin tucked this knowledge away. No point denying his unprofessional fascination to himself, but he would never risk anyone—least of all Valdez—catching wise.
"It's not about the cards," Valdez continued, mistaking Galin's silence for ongoing confusion. "Poker is about the chips, and the betting, and bluffing well enough to put your opponent exactly where you want them. You just have to hide what you're thinking a little better. I've seen you do it during contract negotiations."
"Contract negotiations are real," Galin argued. "This is a game." He did not point out that even at a negotiating table he hated to lean on untruths or outright lies. He could do it—he knew damn well the rest of the universe did, and he was neither naive nor foolhardy—but it had been a skill hard-won, and he didn't enjoy the necessity.
"Doesn't mean it isn't worth learning." Valdez watched Galin closely, peering into his face as though deciphering the bemused train of thought with ridiculous ease.
Galin breathed a skeptical sound and forced his gaze away from Valdez's expressive and distracting face—down to the table and his abandoned cards.
"We can stop if you want," Valdez said quietly. "You're right. It's just a game. We don't have to keep playing."
Galin considered. Sat back in his seat. Stifled a sigh.
Then he raised his head and met Valdez's eyes. "Deal again."
Valdez grinned and collected the cards.
"You're doing it again." Valdez's tone landed somewhere midway between exasperation and amusement.
Galin blinked and raised his eyes from the cards in his hand. He was reasonably confident he hadn't let his grip shift enough to show what he held, which meant Valdez was pointing out one of his other strategic shortcomings. There were plenty to choose from, and Galin didn't know which he might have tripped over this time.
"Doing what again?"
"Scowling at your cards. When you glare at your hand like that, I can tell you've got nothing to bet on." Amusement edged out exasperation by a sliver.
The scowl Galin hadn't even realized he was wearing deepened. He did have a terrible set of cards in front of him. Not so much as a pair of twos to work with. He'd been at this long enough—had sorted out the rules and patterns at Valdez's guidance—to recognize a bad start.
"I don't understand this game." He set the cards down without bothering to hide them. They fanned across the table face-up, a spread of abstract numbers and designs. Diamonds, clubs, spades. And something Valdez insisted on calling 'hearts', though they looked like no heart Galin had ever seen. "If winning or losing is random chance, what's the point of practice?"
He did not bother asking why Valdez had insisted he needed to learn in the first place. For one thing, Valdez tended to be practical enough that when he grew insistent about something, it was generally worth listening. For another, Addison Valdez was the only Human amid Galin's otherwise Remian crew—and when he wanted to introduce them to some particularly Human concept, no one ever refused. Both kindness and pragmatism weighed in favor of hearing Valdez out, and when the results were things like Terran coffee in the galley, well. Everyone considered that a victory.
And of course here, tonight, just the two of them alone in the ship's common room… Of course Galin would humor Valdez's newest personal crusade. But he wouldn't mind understanding it too.
"That is the point," Valdez insisted. Despite his obvious intensity, he kept his voice down in deference to the fact that it was the middle of the night. The rest of the tiny crew slept in their quarters only a short corridor away. "The cards are only the baseline information. You can win with the worst possible hand, or lose with the best. It's all about convincing your opponent to walk away first. Or reeling them in to keep going if you've got something really good."
Galin's brow furrowed as he absorbed this explanation. All the while he watched Valdez's animated enthusiasm fill the little room. Considering the entire reason Galin was in the common room at this hour was a restless inability to sleep, it didn't seem fair for Valdez to be so energized and wide awake. Galin's own eyes were gritty with exhaustion—though since Valdez had joined him, his desire to try and sleep had turned almost nonexistent.
It was rare indeed that he permitted himself to enjoy Valdez's company away from professional pursuits.
Now, with the lights low and the table covered in components of Valdez's educational efforts, Galin couldn't help appreciating this unlikely and personal glimpse. Valdez's hair was sleep-tousled—staticky and asymmetrical—hanging loose down to his shoulders. His eyes were shadowed with deep circles and yet he managed to look completely alert, a familiar but vexing contradiction. His mouth wore a perpetual smirk, curling up at one corner like he couldn't quite help it.
Beautiful as always, and yet so different from the focused and put-together Human who would inevitably barge into Galin's office come morning.
As always, Galin tucked this knowledge away. No point denying his unprofessional fascination to himself, but he would never risk anyone—least of all Valdez—catching wise.
"It's not about the cards," Valdez continued, mistaking Galin's silence for ongoing confusion. "Poker is about the chips, and the betting, and bluffing well enough to put your opponent exactly where you want them. You just have to hide what you're thinking a little better. I've seen you do it during contract negotiations."
"Contract negotiations are real," Galin argued. "This is a game." He did not point out that even at a negotiating table he hated to lean on untruths or outright lies. He could do it—he knew damn well the rest of the universe did, and he was neither naive nor foolhardy—but it had been a skill hard-won, and he didn't enjoy the necessity.
"Doesn't mean it isn't worth learning." Valdez watched Galin closely, peering into his face as though deciphering the bemused train of thought with ridiculous ease.
Galin breathed a skeptical sound and forced his gaze away from Valdez's expressive and distracting face—down to the table and his abandoned cards.
"We can stop if you want," Valdez said quietly. "You're right. It's just a game. We don't have to keep playing."
Galin considered. Sat back in his seat. Stifled a sigh.
Then he raised his head and met Valdez's eyes. "Deal again."
Valdez grinned and collected the cards.
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