Eliana looks deeply amused. "I would have an entirely unfair advantage at betting shots, and it's been ages since I've played any cards. I hope you enjoy yourselves, though."
"Ho dot sounds like FON! Ve ken keep count vit der glasses!" "Hy em sore Riya ken find sumtink vot ken get hyu dronk. She ken mek schtoff strong enuff fer me."
Eliana raises an eyebrow. "Right now, I'm enjoying my wine, but I'll keep that in mind." She looks thoughtful. "I haven't gotten drunk in ages... well, since before I first went universe-wandering, to be honest."
"I can keep track of shots. I have the glasses, after all. And if you're physically capable of getting drunk there's something here that can get you soused." Riya leans forward against the bar, watching. She doesn't mentioned the utility of a mismatched deck yet- she wants to see if anyone else catches on before she intervenes.
"Ohhh, no." Berit leans back in her chair. "My last game of Wicked Grace ended in the commander of our army betting away his pants - I think I'll stay out of it. I'll make sure the lot of you don't set anything on fire."
Berit laughs. "No, it wasn't all bad. He's not unpleasant to look at. But he wouldn't look at me for days afterwards - he had an awful crush on me when we were younger." She sips her drink, and her expression gets a little more somber.
Meanwhile, Dom looks at the door. He doesn't want to leave yet, but he wonders if he could get to another place than the one he entered the bar from. He did intend to leave Order territory anyway...
"Aright," Katters says, "are we playing poker or am I playing solitaire? Let's quit with the talking and get to the dealing!"
Raoul tosses back the rest of his drink, drags the back of his hand across his mouth, and places the glass back on the bar with a satisfying clink. "Top me off, could you?" he says to @Riya and Remi , cracking his neck and fingers with a grin. "Playing card games with a clear head is never fun."
Berit reaches out to take another experimental sip of her drink, and - - is perplexed by the feeling that the glass is getting farther away from her hand. No, it’s always been far away. She doesn't know how she didn't notice that.. no, that's wrong. Something here is deeply strange, reminding her of the unsettling fluidity of the Fade. She blinks in confusion and the world goes white for a long moment - - her hand brushes the side of the glass and she frowns at it. She looks up and notices, with some alarm, that people are in different places than they were a moment ag- … when she last looked around. In fact, some of them are different people. “Excuse me,” she says cautiously, directing the question at a person she at least recognizes. “Did you just feel anything unusual?” This had really better not be any kind of time travel. She will be very unhappy.
Katters rushes into the bar, eager to be out of the rain. Once inside, she hesitates by the door— And is struck by a sense of déjà vu, strong enough to knock her back a step. She approaches the bar, still off-balance. “Irish coffee,” she orders, struck again by the familiarity of it. “Very Irish.”
Mina reaches for her drink and grabs...absolutely nothing. "Verry fonny. Vere´s mine drink?" she asks the ceiling, but Katters comes in...again, before the cieling can answer. "Hoy, deed hyu see mine drink?" Mina shakes her head like a wet cat. "Em hy still vearkink pents?"
What do you mean, you don't remember seeing Nacre here before? She comes here all the time, with stylus and screen, to make sketches and find inspiration. No one goes to this Nacre for the same old standard model that everyone else has, after all! In fact, she's halfway through outlining someone's more unusual physical features already.
"Your pants don't appear to have vanished," Berit volunteers. "No such luck for your drink, however." She looks at Katters. "I don't mean to be rude, but do you remember being here before?" she asks, in a tone slightly too calm for the situation.
