A Dark Justicar and a Canned Copper [Thread II]

[Bobbie]

Simon nodded as Lassa gave her preference, the verdict seeming to be that basic or double chocolate was the way to go. Thinking it over for a bit, he figured he could do either of those two. Her comment about them feeling like rocks in one’s stomach made him laugh, “Noted, nothing like cheesecake or rocks. I’ll try to avoid that.”

Next came her interesting mention of caramel and he let out a hum. He had an experimental recipe on how to put caramel into the mix, but he had never actually tried it... it looked like today was either going to be the day of his big success, or he would be making two batches. “Alright, one sur-” Lassa’s grip on his arm made him stop talking and he turned to look at her, wondering what on earth happened, a question to which he would soon receive an answer... and what an answer it was.

She’s clinging to me... to my arm...

This was big. Lassa felt cold, and Simon was whom she turned to to keep her warm. She felt she needed protection from the cold, so she held onto Simon. He didn't have to grab hold of her arm himself as he was contemplating earlier on, because she did it first!

If Simon were a steam train, this would be the moment the skies fill with clouds of smoke, his face growing red as his body temperature soared. If he hadn’t been under pressure to not look like a complete fool a second time, he just might have fainted again, but luckily, while his legs did lose some of their strength, they did not fail him entirely this time.

“Yeah, it’s... okay...” that came out a bit more fragmented than he intended for it to be, but before long, they were at his door. He fumbled with his keys until he opened the door and let her in first, like a gentleman. As soon as the moment presented itself and Lassa was turned away from him, he reached up and pulled at his collar, fanning himself for a quick moment.

As Lassa clapped her hands and offered her help, it brought a smile to his face. “Right, okay. Let’s see...” he opened the fridge and started to get some stuff out. “Flour, butter, eggs...” he closed the fridge and went to a cupboard, “Sugar, cocoa, vanilla bean... aaaand salt!” he may as well have been singing at that point.

“You could... get started on the weighing if you’d like? Honestly hate that part...” he opened a cupboard and crouched down to get out a set of scales that looked like they themselves weighed a tonne, and were almost the full size of his torso, and he plopped them down onto the table. Next, he opened a little box on the countertop and flipped through some cards, till he picked one out and held it to Lassa. “All the amounts are written here!”

---

Simon: #d2ce2f

[Tokoz]

It seemed the temporary boldness was not just a fleeting impulse. He was actually keeping it up. 

Maybe... maybe this was what the Stratonovski Family had seen in him. Maybe this was why they had wanted him so bad, not just to have a patsy. If he had turned this kind of dedication to overcoming his own fears towards training... 

Lassa might actually have come out the worse for wear in their fight. That was an odd thought, but not an impossible one. Maybe he just needed the push. Should she...

No, no. Leaving him training tips that got too specific was dangerous, and he had turned down her offer to come work with her. It seemed in that aspect at least, she had gotten here too late. 

Once he had started digging, Lassa examined the ingredients and scales. She had never been a heavy baker, but she had done it a few times, and mixing medicine wasn't tremendously different when it came to measuring amounts. "Will do!" 

Taking the card, she read it over twice, memorizing the amounts, then began measuring out the amounts, starting with the ones that would need to be mixed first according to the recipe. As she worked, she began to hum, then sing to herself. 

"Here's a health to the company and one to my lass

Let us drink and be merry all out of one glass
Let us drink and be merry all grief to refrain

For we may or might never all meet here again"

Tipping the measured ingredients into one bowl, she began to prep the other bits with careful precision, still singing in a low tone, almost meditatively. 

"Here's a health to the dear lass that I love so well

For her style and her beauty, sure none can excel

There's a smile on her countenance as she sits on my knee

There's no man in this wide world as happy as me."

Tapping the last egg, she tossed the shell into the bin and then paused, looking back almost inquisitively. She wasn't an incredible singer, just decent, but she had some practice, enough to sound competent. The old sailing song had just slipped out as she worked, and hopefully it hadn't seemed odd or irritating to Simon. 

"So, uh... what next?" She said, cheerfully attempting to just sidle past that little episode straight from a Dalt Wisney Theater Company production. 

[Bobbie]

When Lassa took the card, Simon watched her for a moment to make sure his handwriting was all clear, then he smiled as she got started. Meanwhile, he grabbed a lemon from a bowl by a wooden breadbox that sat atop his fridge to get started on something else while all the ingredients were being measured out.

Her humming, however, caused him to stop for a moment, having just sliced through the lemon, knife still in hand. He glanced back at her, his back to her as the scales were placed on the table in the centre of the room while he worked on the counter. Taking a deep breath, a smile crept onto his face as he put the knife down and reached over to take the tub of sugar for a bit, pouring some of it into an old pot, then returned it in case she wasn’t done with it. Lighting the gas stove with a match, he added some water to the sugar in the pot, squeezed some lemon juice, and then proceeded to leave the pot on the flame, unattended. Where was his attention, one might ask? It was entirely on Lassa, as her humming had now become words, her singing more pleasant than anybody’s he’d ever heard before.

Again, his back was to the counter and the stove, his eyes fixed on Lassa as he listened to the words and the sweet voice that formed them. He wondered if they were dedicated to anyone, but whether they were or weren’t, it warmed his heart to see how happy and comfortable she seemed to be in his company. By some magic, one might even claim to see little heart-shaped bubbles floating over his head, gently popping into small red puffs of smoke. As she unexpectedly looked back, however, Simon’s smile disappeared, his eyes grew wide, and an uncontrollable blush spread across his cheeks. Fumbling, he quickly spun on his heel as he turned once more to give her his back to at least pretend to be focussing on what he was doing and not staring at her. His plan might have worked too, had he been a bit faster - and had he not nearly sent the pot flying off the burner of the stove as his hand crashed into the burning hot steel.

In a panic, he stupidly reached out over the open flame on the stove to catch the pot, and catch it he did! It was a great success as he displayed some impressive reflexes to commend him on. Unfortunately, he did also set the cuff of his sleeve on fire in the process while his arm was extended over the uncovered flame to catch said pot so expertly. Quickly slamming the pot down, he pulled away from the stove and span almost a full 360 degrees, all the while frantically flailing his arm to try and put the fire out before it would spread up his entire sleeve. “Hot, hot, hot!”

---

Simon: #d2ce2f

[Tokoz]

 Well, okay, this one might just be her fault. As she turned around, she caught Simon staring a little dreamily. This brought three things to her attention. First off, Simon wasn't completely flawless in this streak of confidence. Second, her own feelings were immensely complicated right now. Third, Simon had just set his sleeve on fire. 

The preceding few moments were, in essence, a grand illustration of the day with Simon so far. Somewhat adorably bumbling, followed by a sudden surge of competence. Snatching a hot pot out of mid-air, he managed to save whatever he was making. Unfortunately, this resulted in his sleeve catching fire. 

Additionally, he began waving his arm, and Lassa's eyes widened. "Simon, no! You're fanning the flames!" Indeed, the sudden waving provided a swell of oxygen to the fire, causing it to surge. Lassa's eyes narrowed, and she tensed her legs. 

SORU!

With a flicker, she vanished, blurring forwards and grabbing Simon's shirtsleeve. She meant to grab the cuff and put it out, but instead, the superspeed pull tore the shirt sleeve and half the fabric off with a sudden and sharp ripping noise. She quickly threw it to the floor and stomped on it, before looking back. 

"Are you okay? Did you get burned?" Then she paused, and coughed. "I uh... sorry. Burns get dangerous quickly, and... yeah. I think your shirt might be a lost cause." She was carefully looking at the ceiling, to avoid embarrassing Simon any further. Still...

"I can replace that, just... so I don't know your sizes, and I don't have a lot of practice with this... Oh to hell with it." She marched over and put her hands on Simon's shoulders, giving a quick visual measurement, and cloth began to pour out of her palms. In a few seconds, Simon had a new shirt, one that looked almost exactly like his old one. It was a little off, a few details in different manners. 

"Hopefully that works? Sorry, I uh... I forget how strong I can be like this sometimes." She coughed, and scratched the back of her head. "So... what's next?" God, please don't let Simon have a heart attack over that. His forehead, his sunglasses, his shirt. All of his stuff was getting broken today. 

[Bobbie]

Simon heard Lassa shouting at him to stop shaking his arm, but as panic overtook him, he didn’t process her words. The larger the flame got, the more he panicked, and the more he panicked, the more he’d wave his arm around. It would have continued in this vicious fiery circle if Lassa didn’t act as quickly as she did.

It was all over in a moment as the sound of fabric tearing cut through the air the same way Lassa’s strength ripped through the threads that held Simon’s shirt together. Losing his balance, he grabbed onto the counter, his back against it as he stared at his shirt aflame, currently facing the wrath of Lassa’s relentless stomps. With his eyes wide, his chest heaved from the shock of what just happened. His chest... so bare and unclothed. Simon wasn’t very muscular, but his naturally slender frame gave him a lean figure, even without having to go through all the effort of physical exercise that some people had to - or maybe it was all the walking that he did. The very plain and ordinary young man, however, did have one prominent scar on the upper left quadrant of his chest, apart from the forming bruise in the centre of it.

Clearing his throat as he had simply given up on trying to resist blushing, he didn’t dare look at her and focussed on his arm. “Yeah, I think I’m okay... thank you.” his skin was red, hot to the touch and stinging, but it didn’t seem like it was anything more serious than a first degree burn, second at most, thanks to Lassa taking such quick action.

“It’s... it’s okay.” he stuttered, and forced an extremely nervous smile that twitched into place. Replacing the shirt was the least of his concerns as all he wanted to do at that point was cover himself with any other shirt - this is beyond embarrassing. Not only was he probably caught staring at Lassa, but he then actually set his own sleeve on fire, and now he was just standing there, frozen on the spot, lost for words while his face felt like it had actually caught fire along with his arm.

Lassa’s sudden firm grip on his shoulders did the trick of snapping him out of his spiral as he now stared up at her, but this was worse! This was so much worse! Unless her eyes were closed or her head awkwardly turned away, they would be forced to make eye contact and Simon felt like he could lose consciousness any second from being this close to Lassa, her hands on him, let alone while he was... shirtless.

I would be okay with the mighty mythical kraken bursting through my floors and swallowing me whole right now.

Once he had a new shirt on his body, he cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to answer her, thank her, anything, but no words seem to come out. He closed his mouth again. “Hm...” and then there was silence again, “I...” and once again, his lips pressed together to offer more silence. “You...” it seemed every attempt resulted in the same mess of very incomplete, barely even started sentences. Moving away from her and digging through his cupboards, he grabbed a large bowl and a single hand-whisk from his cupboards, before he put them both down on the table beside the ingredients that Lassa had weighed out without looking at her. “Mix.” he uttered, staying true to his current one-word trend, and then turned back to the stove to continue with the pot he was working on before everything turned sideways and all possible directions other than the intended one.

As a heavy cloud fell upon him, he didn’t say another word. Silently going through the events again in his head, his gaze steadily fixed on the melted sugar in the pot, he couldn’t decide if he was more embarrassed by the situation that unfolded or disappointed that perhaps he didn’t use it in the best way possible, while Lassa’s face was so close to his.

---

Simon: #d2ce2f

[Tokoz]

 After a few moments of awkward fumbling, Simon pushed a bowl and a hand-whisk towards Lassa and grunted out basic instructions, before turning away and looking back to the stove. Picking up the bowl, Lassa began mixing ingredients, not saying anything at first.

Something had caught her attention, and it was wriggling in her mind as she considered the nature of it. The scar on his chest... the upper left side was fairly near the heart. Anything that caused a scar like that had to have been dangerously close to one of the main targets of the body. 

More than that though... it seemed like Simon had a few other scars. 

"You don't have to be so worried, Simon." She said quietly, still mixing. Moonlight was streaming in through the window, the kitchen an island of light in the darkness. "I'm not going to suddenly sneer at you and decided you're not interesting or something. Besides, I think you're getting in your own way. You were doing fine till you panicked over looking silly, yeah?" 

Her voice was soft, nonjudgmental, but slightly chiding. He was doing her a bit of a disservice by assuming she would be so quick to dismiss him based on something fairly minor. Continuing to mix, she cast her mind back a ways. 

"There was... someone else I was raised with. He had a particular teacher who liked to push and belittle him. For a lot of us, it had worked, motivating us to prove him wrong. Once we reached a certain point, he met with us privately and apologized. For this boy, though, it just crushed his ability to move forwards until he was given a new teacher."

Her mixing slowed. "Miguel, and maybe others, told you similar things for a long time, didn't they? Long enough that the scars from all those little cuts and nicks ache and make you flinch back at times." Tapping the wisk, she knocked the last of the mix off the implement, and then turned, looking over at Simon with a raised eyebrow.

"How'd you get that scar? The one over your heart." It was a bit of a personal question, but this brownie-making operation was proving to be remarkably emotionally fraught in a number of ways. Still, it wasn't Lassa's first time dancing on a rockslide like this. Although one of those had been more literal, and that had resulted in 3 broken bones. 

[Bobbie]

Simon was lost in his own mind throughout the silence, feeling a range of emotions - one that would soon be added to the mix was relief. As Lassa’s words cut through the stillness in the air, he hesitated a moment, before a gentle smile appeared on his face, though he didn’t turn around yet.

Grabbing another ingredient, he removed the pot from the stove and turned it off to avoid another accident, then slowly began to mix it in while he listened. This was the experimental part - he wasn’t sure if adding milk would be the right move, but he had tried other things and they all caused the sugar syrup to seize.

She was right. Getting in his own way was quite accurately described though he himself had never been able to put his finger on it before - or perhaps he didn’t care enough because his mistakes were usually not too drastic. Perhaps, though it may be a silly notion, he felt it was a good quality to be able to take such criticism from other people and not shut down because of it, having very thick skin for the most part and wear that badge with pride. It was rare that he allowed people’s words to bother him... his own words were another matter.

As the mixture in the pot bubbled and fizzed, he stirred it carefully, all the while listening to what Lassa said and touched by how despite so many things from her past and current life being kept secret, she referred to an anecdote that would reach him. It made sense. Such a teaching technique, though not what he would have gone for, could be beneficial for those who had the ambition to push themselves to improve, yet he couldn’t ever see it working with somebody like him.

Something in the mixture just wasn’t right... it was too runny, and would harden to a crisp once it set. Going to the fridge to fetch some butter, he paused when she asked about Miguel and some others. He wasn’t sure if it was a rhetorical question or not, but, the tub of butter in hand, he looked at her with a soft exhale. “I never thought it bothered me.” he said, honestly. “Miguel, the others at the station, I mean... it’s not like they don’t know what they’re talking about.” he replied in a gentle but uncertain tone. He knew that the way they’d been treating him wasn’t right, others had tried to point this out to him before as well, but it was just... easier. It was easier to shrug them off than confront them.

“It's easier to shrug them off and let things slide.” he made his thought verbal, opening his heart to Lassa, before turning back to the countertop and cutting a cube of butter as he eyeballed the amount. “Like I said, people like Miguel know what they’re talking about. They’re above me in rank, experience, and... well, general know-how of how to get by without any mishaps. My judgement hasn’t always been the best - which you know now.” he offered a light-hearted chuckle at his last statement that was only half genuine and he added the butter to the mixture, stirring it in.

When Lassa turned round moments later, so did Simon, each of them with their own mixture in hand, Lassa with the brownie batter and Simon with a pot full of successful rich, creamy caramel, and a proud and more genuine smile on his face. “Caramel for you, Madam!” It was a rare glow that added to gentle features of his face.

“Hm? This one?” he put a free hand over the area on his chest before he put the pot down, “I uh... you wouldn’t believe me, but I... tripped. Well, I fell, somehow.” the report stated that the clumsy officer simply did what he always does and miscalculated his footing. It was perfectly believable. “It was back when I was still directing traffic, I fell into the water and got wedged between a small boat and the pier.” he brought the side of his hand up to the level his chest was, indicating where the wooden boards were, “Couldn’t pull myself up, and something must have gone wrong either with the anchor, or poor calculation on the captain part because it clearly drifted too close to land.” he shrugged, somewhat fuzzy on the details as it was a couple of years ago. “Pier was reworked the next day after that, it had a significant amount of splinters.”

---

Simon: #d2ce2f

[Tokoz]

 Humming slightly to herself, Lassa raised an eyebrow. "People like Miguel? So there are others?" When he said that those above him in rank and experience knew what they were talking about, though, she outright snorted. "That's ridiculous." Shaking her head, her mind drifted to all the incompetent officials and agents she had seen.

There had been a few from CP4 who had whiffed a mission she had been sent on as a young teen, managing to drop their mission orders in the middle of the street and the target, who they were following, actively picked them up. That had gotten them chewed out at HQ for sure. 

"Just because someone's been doing it longer doesn't mean they're doing it better. Besides, who was the one who helped me deal with that smuggling case? Miguel tried to cover it up, thinking he wouldn't get found out. Not great judgement if you ask me."

When he proffered the caramel, Lassa grinned. "Oooh. That looks excellent." She had figured he was doing something like that based on the ingredients he had been using and the ones she had, but it still looked very good. Taking a sniff, she glanced over as he started talking. 

Gradually though, her face went from smiling to neutral, and then to cold. 'tripped.' 'fell somehow.' It could be that it genuinely was a mistake. But... Her lips curled into a frown.

You didn't start murder with an innocent-looking rabbit or a nice friendly person. That was stupid. You weren't a psychopath, you were an assassin. You killed those who needed killing. So the trainers found targets you could understand the reasons why they had to die. 

She still remembered the stumbling over the words. The waving away, the dismissing of the injury as an accident. She had been helping in a government medical clinic at the time. The order had come in later that night. "Simon..."

Her finger dripping with blood, her veins burning, she remembered standing over the body and feeling a sense of relief. The first time someone had ever died by her hand, and there was one person who would wake up tomorrow to the first day of the rest of their life. "I want you to be honest with me. Did you fall into the water... or did you get pushed in there." Her gaze was steady at his face, waiting. Maybe she was wrong. Hopefully she was. 

[Bobbie]

Feeling like he just said something he shouldn’t have, Simon shrugged lightly. “Others? I guess? You know how it goes, people rope their circle of friends in.” he said, refusing to give any names. “It’s not a big deal, really - look, now that I’ve left the precinct, I don’t even have to deal with them anymore.” How was that for a silver lining?

She had a point about experience not necessarily meaning actually being good at one’s job, but he was more concerned with how her facial expression changed from the excitement of his caramel topping to the cold look that grew on Lassa’s face instead of it, than that comment.

Simon gently took the bowl of brownie batter and poured it into a lightly buttered tin that was relatively squarish. He turned his back to her again as he lit the stove once more and slipped the tray into the gas oven, until his name was called and he glanced back at her over his shoulder. Shutting the oven door and setting a timer, he turned around to lean back against the cupboards, taking the kitchen napkin to wipe some brownie batter of his fingers.

Without all the adrenaline to block out the pain, his arm was starting to burn as the fabric of his new shirt rubbed against his raw skin, prompting him to unbutton the cuffs and roll up both sleeves so they would match.

“I...” he frowned a bit, glancing at her only once more before focusing on his sleeves again. He knew what was written in the report, but he had a different idea of what actually happened. “It was a while ago, I can’t really say for certain.” he replied, which was not a lie. Running out of distractions was his sleeves were rolled up, his attention went back to her.

Why does she have such an irresistible gaze?

She specifically asked him to be honest... how could he be anything but when she was looking at him like that?

“I don’t recall there being anything for me trip in.” he sighed softly. “Like I said, the pier was reworked the next day, so going back to double check proved useless, so maybe my memory's not accurate. Again, it was a long time ago, I don’t even remember why Hughes and I were there-”

Crap.

“Anyway!” he quickly changed the topic with a nervous smile, “Brownies are baking, we’ve got some time on our hands - cards or chess?”

---

Simon: #d2ce2f

[Tokoz]

 Wincing slightly at the light burn on Simon's arm, Lassa kept her attention otherwise on the evasive nature of his words. Couldn't say for certain. It seemed like he had some idea of what happened, anyway. 

The next few sentences just fueled the cold anger dripping it's way down her spine. Hughes, huh? So there was someone else with him, and even he wasn't sure what he might have tripped on. Her hands clenched, and she took a deep breath. Then, she let her shoulders slump, and gave a slightly weak smile. 

"You're right. It was a long time ago, I can tell by how much the scar has aged. But... this is why I worry, is all. You need to know who your enemies are, Simon, or you'll be second-guessing right up until the knife is in your back. You might not think anyone is out for you, but..."

She shrugged. "Miguel had dirty dealings. I doubt he was the only one, and some of the others might have been trying to get the loose end tied up." Shaking her head, she resolved to see about getting this department put up for an audit. Water Seven was a center of shipbuilding in Paradise, and having too much rot in it's police system was a good way to ensure that there would be problems down the line. 

Without saying anything, she walked closer to Simon, and then hugged him. "If you get yourself killed trying to give people second chances, I will find a Devil Fruit User that can open a gate to hell, drag you back, then kill you again myself, you soft-hearted idiot." Leaning back, she flicked him on the forehead, then went and took a seat at the table. 

"Cards or chess, or I could teach you Liar's Dice. I used to play it with some of the doctors at the hospital I trained at." Reaching into her bag, she drew out a small sack of dice. "We just need 5 dice each, and some cups. Although if you'd prefer not to try your luck on that front, I'd be happy with some chess, or poker. But you need to figure out what we're betting for Poker or Liar's Dice" 

In fairness, trying to challenge someone with a poker face like hers was probably tough, but luck played a part too, and Simon seemed to have that in spades. Plus, offering an open bet option kept things interesting. 

[Bobbie]

Simon watched her as she lay her concerns out in the open before him. He was about to argue that he didn’t have any enemies - which he did believe to be true, currently, though he couldn’t say for certain that wouldn’t change - but as he took a breath to utter a word, he found that he’d rather discard that idea.

A soft smile grew on his face and he nodded. “I will be more careful and try not to trust people I don’t know so easily. You’re right, Miguel was probably not the only one, and I didn’t see it... so-”

As Lassa suddenly rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around him, Simon’s heart skipped a beat as he completely lost track of what he was saying. It took him a second to get over the shock, a blush on his cheeks for the hundredth time already, quite possibly, before he gently hugged the tall woman in return and let his hand rub her back reassuringly. The threat that came from her might have been enough to send a chill down his spine, had he not been in her warm embrace at that very moment.

Instead, he smiled and laughed, even after being flicked on the forehead. “First of all, ow. Have you not wounded me enough yet?” he teased, moving to sit at the table with her. “Secondly... good to know that Hell is where I’m heading, that’s... fantastic to hear.” after another chuckle, he finally grew serious and reached out across the table to gently grab her hand and give it a gentle squeeze, “I am not going to get myself killed. It’s not going to happen.” he withdrew his hand, knowing that was a difficult promise to make, but even with all the love he previously had for his job, he had never felt more reason to stay alive.

“Okay, game! Sure, we can go with Liar’s Dice, though I’m guessing I stand little chance, based on its name alone.” he laughed, getting up again and going to the cupboard to fetch a pile of cups that were stacked in each other. As he put them down on the table, he didn’t sit down yet. “Hmm, now what to bet...” he hummed and thought about it, then smiled, “I’ll be back.”

Leaving the room, he could be heard digging through a drawer for a bit, and soon returned with a tin box. Placing that down on the table, he finally sat down as well and poured some of the contents of the box out - lots and lots of buttons of all shapes and sizes.

“My grandmother used to collect them. So we’re betting buttons.” he laughed, “How about... loser makes breakfast tomorrow morning?” he asked, his question taking on a higher inflection than one ordinarily would as he looked guiltily at Lassa - he was cheating by including two rewards in one, which ensured that Simon would have his own victory whether he won at the game or not. Whether he would be making breakfast or she would, it implied that she’d be spending the whole night.

---

Simon: #d2ce2f

[Tokoz]

 "I say Hell as a generic statement on an assumed afterlife. I make no presumptions on the nature." She said primly, dancing the dice over her hands. Taking two cups, she dropped 5 dice into Simon's cup, and 5 into her own. 

When he returned with the buttons, Lassa took a moment to think. The implication of the bet had not slipped past her, but once again, she was both amused and impressed by Simon's boldness. It wasn't quite the 'how do you like your eggs?' line, but that was fine. Taking a handful of buttons, she quickly sorted them into small piles of small and large. 

"1 and 5. Works for me." She split them in two, and then grabbed her cup. 

"Basic idea, you roll your 'hand' of dice. Ones are wild. Normally this has more players, but we're improvising a little. You bet a number on the die, and an amount. Three 4s, for example." She gestured to the dice she had just rolled, showing the three dice with four dots facing upwards. "Then the other person has to either increase the amount, or the number on the die. You could go up to Two 5s for example, but not back down to Two 3s. If you think the other person is lying, you can say Liar. If you were right, you win. If they were telling the truth, you lose."

Gesturing to the chips, she put one in the middle. "You have to put in at least 1 chip every time you bet. You can put more. The other person can either match, raise, call Liar, or fold on their turn. You don't have to match whatever they put down to match yours, unless they raised. So if you put in 5, and they put in 5, you can go back down to 1 button." 

Clapping her hands, she grinned. "Simple enough? In that case..." Rattling her cup, she put it upside down on the table. Tipping it back, she narrowed her eyes for a moment. 

"Two 2's." And away they went. 

[Bobbie]

As Lassa divided and sorted the buttons into three piles for the most part, Simon pushed aside any of the ones that she didn’t seem to need to get those out of the way and put them back into the tin. Then her explanation on how to play came, and he followed attentively, occasionally offering a nod or a hum as she demonstrated.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it.” he picked up his cup shaking the dice around in there a bit, before turning it upside down onto the table. He watched her for a moment, then copied her movement and tilted the cup back just a bit, tilting his head to get a peek at his dice while keeping them as hidden as possible. However, unlike Lassa, Simon’s poker face was non-existence, as a deep frown plagued his features. He glanced at her, when she made the first bet, then back at his dice, and lastly at her again. “So it’s either more dice, or higher in value.” he muttered to himself.

Straightening up, he pushed three little buttons to the centre of the table. “Two 5s.” he said as his frown was soon replaced by a bit of a smile. This was hard - no, this was impossible. There were too many things to smile at.

For the first round, a lot of Simon’s bets followed this pattern, some of them sounding more like questions than actual decisive bets. He tried his best to gauge Lassa’s reactions to his bets and her facial expressions when making her own, but this person was incredibly difficult to read. At a point where the sixes were increasing, having reached a bet of six 6s by Lassa, Simon shook his head and called her out. “No way. There’s no way there can be six of them... liar!” As they both revealed, however, he raised his eyebrows to see that there were precisely six, including a 1. 

"I... stand corrected." Laughing, he gestured toward the pile and started the second round after a quick shuffle of the dice and quick upturn of his cup. “Two 4s.” he pushed two buttons into the pile once he looked at his dice and felt confident with his bet. “So where did you even learn to play this game, anyway? This, poker, cards in general... it sounds like you have experience with games that involve betting.” He chatted away in between bets. “Is there some mysterious gambling history hidden amidst all your studying and work?”

---

Simon: #d2ce2f

[Tokoz]

 Chuckling as she slid a number of buttons over, Lassa did a quick count. Up eleven, hmm? 
"It's always the 1s that get you, I find. Not bad though, I was gambling on your hand a bit there." Stacking her buttons like poker chips, she rattled the cup for a moment. 

"As for where I learned the game, it's easy to find the pieces for and quick enough. With more people, you lose a die if you're caught or if you're wrong, so people get knocked out. Four 4s." She slid another 2 buttons over and hummed for a moment as Simon responded. 

"No, no secret sordid past of Gambling I'm afraid." she said as he increased to four Sixes. She matched, and increased as well. "Five 6s. Bold, but risky there~" She hummed, before tapping her finger on the table. "What about you? Ever felt the call of the casino?"

When he claimed the same bet she had last time, she narrowed her eyes, and gave a challenging smile. "Liar." Lifting her cup, she revealed a 6 and 1, as well as a 5,4, and 2. "So unless you have-"

Exactly twice what she had. Blinking, she paused for a moment. "You lucky bastard. Well done." She HAD said it was always the 1s that get you, and it seemed she was right. The game had just swung back to much more of a tie. Grumbling good naturedly, she looked at her dice for a moment before sliding three buttons forwards.

"Three 2s. Better be a bit more conservative, seems we have a Dice Shark on the field." she chuckled. He had gotten the hang of this game fairly quickly, it seemed. Maybe he really did just have ridiculous luck of all things. That, or he had played this before and was screwing with her. Either way, she was frankly more than a bit impressed. Maybe this wouldn't be over in a few turns after all. 

[Bobbie]

“Sure, I get that, seems easy enough. If you carry as many dice around as you carry wrenches.” he quipped, playfully. “Sorry. If you happen to find them.” In response to her bet on four 4s, he offered four 6s and added two more buttons into the pile.

“You’re afraid?” he laughed, “Doesn't sound like a bad thing, though with your command of micro-expressions, I think you’d be a natural.” He watched as she narrowed her eyes with that smile, calling him out. Looking worried for a moment, he glanced at her dice, raising his cup at the same time to reveal his own numbers. Then he gasped in feigned offence. “I would never lie.” he chuckled, taking some pleasure in seeing the shock on her face, his chuckle then growing into a loud hearty laugh when she actually called him a lucky bastard. At least that was accompanied by a note of congratulations. “Thank you.”

“To answer your question, I generally try to avoid places like that. There’s always a lot of security, but it seems like a magnet for trouble, half of the transactions being far from honest or in good fun.” he gave his dice a spin and looked at them while he spoke. "It's the perfect hub for some secret mafia meetings or something."

“I have to admit, I stepped into one once.” he added a button to raise her by one. “Three 3s. I don’t think I ever will again though, it just wasn’t my scene.” Going back and forth in a couple of bets, Lassa’s most recent one of six 4s caused Simon to narrow his eyes, a look of sheer scepticism on his face. Raising one eyebrow, he looked at his dice, then back at her, “Liar.” he raised his cup to reveal that he didn’t have a single 4.

Feeling proud of his deductive skills at play, like some Liar’s Dice professional, he grinned and leaned over the table to sweep the pile in his direction, purposely exaggerating the gesture as if it were some huge stack of berri. “The Dice Shark strikes again!” he sang in playful fashion.

Having significantly more currency than her, he was prepared to raise the stakes in the next round, immediately increasing her miserly bet of 1 small button, to 1 larger one that represented 5. "Three 4s." Looking away from her for a moment, the smell of baking brownies attracted his attention and he faced the oven. Not enough time had passed yet, the manual timer still ticking away, but they were certainly one their way to being ready. 

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Simon: #d2ce2f