House of Cards RP

After six months, Simon Thompson had finally gotten comfortable with his day job as bartender at the Four Suits. He wasn't qualified for much else, he'd discovered, other than talking to people and filling out a nice suit in a Diamond-appropriate fashion, but those two things he could at least do pretty gosh-darned well. 

It was just getting on around five o'clock, the time a lot of the regulars started to wander in from work or any of their other number or responsibilities. That was good for him -- the Suits could be a little dull on off hours, and it was mostly boring drunks who occupied the stools during those hours, who came with their own set of problems.

"Come one, come all," he announced, in the direction of the open door that so invited passersby in for a pint or a pie. "The one, the only Simon Thompson tending bar this evening and most others at the Four Suits! Come on in and vent your troubles or share your joys, it's what I'm here for! Well, that and pouring your liquor!"

He was lucky, he figured. He had a job that he could be himself at, in a world so full of masks. 

Time spent being himself was important, because it meant he could start figuring out just what in the name of mittens was going on in his life. 

He's done this before, when he was on the Deck last...though he was better at it when he had full use of his right hand. It still works, of course, it's just not as...precise as it used to be. But the only way to get better is to practice, right?

So Justin might be on a street in Town, striking up conversations with people who don't already know him, and lifting something small and inconsequential off them in the process.

Though if anyone is watching, they might notice he returns it either before the conversations is over, or bumps into them not so long after. It's not really pickpocketing if you give it back, right?

Or if they don't notice that, they might be a target of his. Whichever. Funny how he's all cleaned up and smiling today instead of scruffy, smoking, and potty-mouthed. Then again, people don't stand around to have conversations about the weather and random Towers appearing in the green with scruffy people.

It wasn't, he supposed, really a beach yet, but the rhythmic movement of the tides were already starting to erode the the grace and soil and leave something sandier in it's place. Just at the edge for now, but in time it would become a mix of sand and stones, with only patches of the grass that was currently blanketing the ground in between patches of snow.

He kicked a pebble into the...well, sea, he supposed, and eyed it before looking out at the island with the door.

"Just when you thought things couldn't get weirder..."