(no subject)
Feb. 17th, 2004 02:09 pm.
"I'm a gamer."
My hand paused, hovering stock-still above the chessboard, the rook I was trying to get out of the way of his knights still in my hand. It was our third chess game that morning, which stretched inexhorably into the afternoon that Sunday. I wasn't trying to win: I was learning how to play as I went, so I knew I had no chance. I found myself judging my own success based upon how many pieces I had left on the board when the eventual Checkmate came. With each game, I was getting better by my own standards. I was actually killing pieces of his, though not as many as Noah did mine, but by the end I still had some of mine left standing.
Whatever move I had planned vanished in the front of my mind as I looked up, taking another glance of Noah, sitting across the board from me. There wasn't a cloud in the sky this time, and the light filtered through the leaves overhead cast him in patches of light and shadow. It looked muted: like I was looking at him through a window, or a glass door. What I found was his eyes, again, staring back at me. Those, I couldn't take my eyes off of since we got here this morning. He was there first, in fact, setting up the pieces as I was making my way back here. Even while getting my ass kicked at chess, I can't think of a moment where I wasn't smiling. I wondered if he noticed.
"Hmm?" I asked, not quite sure what he was getting at.
"Gamer," Noah repeated. "You know. D&D. Swords, sorcery, roll the dice to see if I'm getting drunk." He shrugged, but it was forced. It looked, to me, like he was trying hard to make it come across like it wasn't any big thing to him, but the look he was giving me said a lot more than I think he had intended. Almost as if he expected me to up and walk away right then and there.
"Wait...D&D?"
"Dungeons and-"
"Oh, I know," I replied, and put the rook back where I had it. Not that it mattered, because I knew the moment I made a move, Noah was going to just blow through my defenses anyway. But I felt it was necessary. I mean, how does one learn if they don't play? "You're serious?"
"Yeah," he answered, and took his eyes off me, going back to the board. "I mean, it's just me and some friends, and it's something to do."
"Wasn't what I meant," I answered. "People still play that stuff?"
Here, Noah looked back up at me. "You wound me. Seriously."
"I didn't know."
"It still exists."
"I'm sorry, Noah." Because, well, I did feel bad about it. I started getting an all-too-familiar knot in the center of my chest, again. "I didn't know." And I was saying that a LOT, I had started to notice. Especially around him. "I thought it all faded out with the eighties. Didn't thay have some big scares and shit on it?"
"Total bullshit," Noah snorted as one side of his mouth pulled up into a half-smile. "You have to read some of the old pamphlets they used to have, Kier. It's hysterical. They have it totally wrong."
"How?" I asked. Even if it looked like a smirk to me, at least Noah wasn't upset, which bothered me a lot more than if he was mad at me. "I mean, there were those stories."
"Trust me," Noah said. "Playing a game like that doesn't lead to, like, worshipping Satan or anything. Anyone who freaked out was not all fucking there to begin with." He started chuckling. "The only think folks should worry about is a sugar coma, or orange fingers."
"Orange what?"
"Orange fingers," Noan answered. "Like, when you eat too many Chee-tos, and your fingers get all that cheese dust."
Here, I had to laugh with him. "Oh, right. I hate that. Just...and you can't wipe it off."
"Nope. It just sticks to everything you touch."
"Hell, it's turned the soap in the bathroom orange when I tried to wash it off."
"And then masturbation gets so damn messy."
I was about to say something, but my conscious mind heard that, slammed on the breaks and screeched to a sudden stop overlooking a huge cliff. "Uh..." I couldn't think, and my mouth just hung open...
"I'm a gamer."
My hand paused, hovering stock-still above the chessboard, the rook I was trying to get out of the way of his knights still in my hand. It was our third chess game that morning, which stretched inexhorably into the afternoon that Sunday. I wasn't trying to win: I was learning how to play as I went, so I knew I had no chance. I found myself judging my own success based upon how many pieces I had left on the board when the eventual Checkmate came. With each game, I was getting better by my own standards. I was actually killing pieces of his, though not as many as Noah did mine, but by the end I still had some of mine left standing.
Whatever move I had planned vanished in the front of my mind as I looked up, taking another glance of Noah, sitting across the board from me. There wasn't a cloud in the sky this time, and the light filtered through the leaves overhead cast him in patches of light and shadow. It looked muted: like I was looking at him through a window, or a glass door. What I found was his eyes, again, staring back at me. Those, I couldn't take my eyes off of since we got here this morning. He was there first, in fact, setting up the pieces as I was making my way back here. Even while getting my ass kicked at chess, I can't think of a moment where I wasn't smiling. I wondered if he noticed.
"Hmm?" I asked, not quite sure what he was getting at.
"Gamer," Noah repeated. "You know. D&D. Swords, sorcery, roll the dice to see if I'm getting drunk." He shrugged, but it was forced. It looked, to me, like he was trying hard to make it come across like it wasn't any big thing to him, but the look he was giving me said a lot more than I think he had intended. Almost as if he expected me to up and walk away right then and there.
"Wait...D&D?"
"Dungeons and-"
"Oh, I know," I replied, and put the rook back where I had it. Not that it mattered, because I knew the moment I made a move, Noah was going to just blow through my defenses anyway. But I felt it was necessary. I mean, how does one learn if they don't play? "You're serious?"
"Yeah," he answered, and took his eyes off me, going back to the board. "I mean, it's just me and some friends, and it's something to do."
"Wasn't what I meant," I answered. "People still play that stuff?"
Here, Noah looked back up at me. "You wound me. Seriously."
"I didn't know."
"It still exists."
"I'm sorry, Noah." Because, well, I did feel bad about it. I started getting an all-too-familiar knot in the center of my chest, again. "I didn't know." And I was saying that a LOT, I had started to notice. Especially around him. "I thought it all faded out with the eighties. Didn't thay have some big scares and shit on it?"
"Total bullshit," Noah snorted as one side of his mouth pulled up into a half-smile. "You have to read some of the old pamphlets they used to have, Kier. It's hysterical. They have it totally wrong."
"How?" I asked. Even if it looked like a smirk to me, at least Noah wasn't upset, which bothered me a lot more than if he was mad at me. "I mean, there were those stories."
"Trust me," Noah said. "Playing a game like that doesn't lead to, like, worshipping Satan or anything. Anyone who freaked out was not all fucking there to begin with." He started chuckling. "The only think folks should worry about is a sugar coma, or orange fingers."
"Orange what?"
"Orange fingers," Noan answered. "Like, when you eat too many Chee-tos, and your fingers get all that cheese dust."
Here, I had to laugh with him. "Oh, right. I hate that. Just...and you can't wipe it off."
"Nope. It just sticks to everything you touch."
"Hell, it's turned the soap in the bathroom orange when I tried to wash it off."
"And then masturbation gets so damn messy."
I was about to say something, but my conscious mind heard that, slammed on the breaks and screeched to a sudden stop overlooking a huge cliff. "Uh..." I couldn't think, and my mouth just hung open...
no subject
Date: 2004-02-17 12:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-17 12:22 pm (UTC)And you are an evil, evil man. ;) Nice metaphorical cliffhanger for the story, though. :)
no subject
Date: 2004-02-17 03:49 pm (UTC)::waits for next installment::