Lucille Fisher (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
novel_machinist) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2015-04-14 12:34 pm
novel_machinist) wrote in rainbowfic2015-04-14 12:34 pm
Literary / Octarine 30. The truth is too precious to die for
Author: novel_machinist
Story: The Devil is a Gentleman
Theme: Literary / Octarine
Word Count: 458
Summary: It's a card game in purgatory…
Rating: R - Language
Warnings: None
Notes: Alan is one of my favorite characters, I've got a lot for him written down, but it needs sort of polished. All you need to know is that Alan's best friend Carl signed his soul over to the devil and that purgatory is actually Las Vegas. You all should remember Liam.
**Please add "story: the devil is a gentleman" and "story: war cycle" if you can!
The man sat across from him was devastatingly handsome in the way that was awash on billboards and action films. His square jaw had strawberry stubble on it that highlighted piercing blue eyes. His hair was in a short, military cut. Alan snorted "well hello there, Captain America."
The man blinked across from him, not getting the reference. "…I'm British." His accent was crisp, clean, and those blue eyes were haunted. "And I'm really sorry, sir. I can't lose this game."
"I'm not going to lose it." Alan responded.
The other man swallowed and took a long drink of brandy. "Cheers then."
-+-
Poker was a game that Alan played as easily as he breathed. The tells that the man across from him, Captain Liam Conway by name, should have been easy. However, it appeared that Liam was a professional liar. During a break in the game, the two of them stood inside the casino. The neon lights played off of Liam's cigarette and danced along his strong hands. "When are you from?"
"Ohio."
"I said when, mate."
Alan turned then and focused on Liam. The cut of his hair, even the cigarette he smoked were timeless, classic. "…2014."
Liam bit his lip a moment and nodded. "America?"
"That easy to tell, huh?"
"You sound like the newscasters and the actors I watched on yele." He took another long drag.
"You?"
"1943…44 maybe. Time's running together lately." He swallowed.
"You've got a damn good poker face for a pretty boy." Alan attempted to joke. He didn't like that Carl's soul hung so precariously in the balance. He had no idea what was over Liam's head and honestly didn't want to. Knowing that there could be something just as vital made his stomach snake.
"I'm a spy, counter intelligence with a blended Allied force. Lying is what kept me alive."
It wasn't that shocking, Alan supposed. With a face like that he probably caught most people off guard. There was a sort of fear behind Liam's clear eyes that made Alan's heart hurt for him. Liam didn't seem to be worried at all for himself.
It occurred to Alan that maybe you couldn't just play for yourself in these games. Against his better judgement, he had to ask "who you playing for?"
"A fucking fool who had no business in this bloody war. He's… brilliant, talented. He didn't have to be there. You damn Yanks and your hero complexes. Thinking the whole bloody planet needs you." Liam rounded off the wall and stopped himself before a full tirade left him. "I …apologize."
Alan didn't have to ask if they were lovers. He knew that sort of thing on sight. Part of him wanted to ask how that was back then; when it was criminalized, when there was more at stake than offending someone because you're at a wedding. "Yeah… I'm sorry too."
Liam clenched his jaw. "What about you?"
"My brother. He's dead…but he lost a game of cards."
novel_machinist Story: The Devil is a Gentleman
Theme: Literary / Octarine
Word Count: 458
Summary: It's a card game in purgatory…
Rating: R - Language
Warnings: None
Notes: Alan is one of my favorite characters, I've got a lot for him written down, but it needs sort of polished. All you need to know is that Alan's best friend Carl signed his soul over to the devil and that purgatory is actually Las Vegas. You all should remember Liam.
**Please add "story: the devil is a gentleman" and "story: war cycle" if you can!
The man sat across from him was devastatingly handsome in the way that was awash on billboards and action films. His square jaw had strawberry stubble on it that highlighted piercing blue eyes. His hair was in a short, military cut. Alan snorted "well hello there, Captain America."
The man blinked across from him, not getting the reference. "…I'm British." His accent was crisp, clean, and those blue eyes were haunted. "And I'm really sorry, sir. I can't lose this game."
"I'm not going to lose it." Alan responded.
The other man swallowed and took a long drink of brandy. "Cheers then."
-+-
Poker was a game that Alan played as easily as he breathed. The tells that the man across from him, Captain Liam Conway by name, should have been easy. However, it appeared that Liam was a professional liar. During a break in the game, the two of them stood inside the casino. The neon lights played off of Liam's cigarette and danced along his strong hands. "When are you from?"
"Ohio."
"I said when, mate."
Alan turned then and focused on Liam. The cut of his hair, even the cigarette he smoked were timeless, classic. "…2014."
Liam bit his lip a moment and nodded. "America?"
"That easy to tell, huh?"
"You sound like the newscasters and the actors I watched on yele." He took another long drag.
"You?"
"1943…44 maybe. Time's running together lately." He swallowed.
"You've got a damn good poker face for a pretty boy." Alan attempted to joke. He didn't like that Carl's soul hung so precariously in the balance. He had no idea what was over Liam's head and honestly didn't want to. Knowing that there could be something just as vital made his stomach snake.
"I'm a spy, counter intelligence with a blended Allied force. Lying is what kept me alive."
It wasn't that shocking, Alan supposed. With a face like that he probably caught most people off guard. There was a sort of fear behind Liam's clear eyes that made Alan's heart hurt for him. Liam didn't seem to be worried at all for himself.
It occurred to Alan that maybe you couldn't just play for yourself in these games. Against his better judgement, he had to ask "who you playing for?"
"A fucking fool who had no business in this bloody war. He's… brilliant, talented. He didn't have to be there. You damn Yanks and your hero complexes. Thinking the whole bloody planet needs you." Liam rounded off the wall and stopped himself before a full tirade left him. "I …apologize."
Alan didn't have to ask if they were lovers. He knew that sort of thing on sight. Part of him wanted to ask how that was back then; when it was criminalized, when there was more at stake than offending someone because you're at a wedding. "Yeah… I'm sorry too."
Liam clenched his jaw. "What about you?"
"My brother. He's dead…but he lost a game of cards."