Background Chatter

[Anderson]

"Now for that bet, I'd say...If it is one of the twins, I'd say I'll go ahead and triple what you put in. But I'll accept a wager of no less than 5."

"As per your other question, I liked that one chick. You know, the one who went with the robe and the Angel-Of-Death style executions. Like she was some sort of agent of divine vengeance or something. Man, that's some memorable stuff right there. I forget what her name was. Eh, doesn't matter. What's your pick?"

Sean looked at Zack a little bit confused at the odds being thrown his way. Something felt off about this math. "Zack, if I bet on one of them, it's $10 back for every dollar I put in. If I bet on both, it's $3." Beat. "I think I'm missing something here."

No, he doesn't quite know what's off, but between the fact that $10 is not divisible by $3. That and the way Tim responded to Zack's clarification sent up a bit of a red flag...again, he's not sure what's off about the numbers, but he's at least checking for what is or isn't.

[Frozen Smoke]

He turned it around in his head. Tim's math was fucking terrible.

He turned to the Senor and raised an eyebrow quizzicaly.

"Yeah, his Math is really bad." He stated, not taking his eyes from the rather untrustworthy man. He knew he was good at Math, but surely no-one was so bad at math that they thought 1:3 was a better return than 1:10

"Unless I am once more showing my late night and you meant 1:30" He said, half asking, half musing to himself.

Goddamn it he needed sleep. Just wait til next period. Civic studies is bull anywhoo.

[HenchmenF*]

Lou slid into his seat, as slid as best as he could, before removing his backpack and placing it on the ground next to his chair. Placing his lunchbox on the table with a clank as the old tin lunchbox collided with the faux wood that was used as lunch tables, Lou opened up the lunchbox that he's used since the beginning of fourth grade. Removing his sandwich that his mother made him, along with the chips and Diet Coke (he was trying to lose a bit of weight); Lou sniffled and pushed his glasses up on his greasy nose as he bit into his sandwhich.

"You know." Lou said while chewing his sandwich, causing food to fly out of his mouth and onto the table, "I'm figuring that one guy, the one with the sawn off shotgun and was going to be the class valedictorian or something? He's gotta be the coolest guy in the show. You see that one time when he jumped up behind that one dude, the dumbass jock with a golf club and blasted the dudes neck off with the shotgun?! That was so cool!" Lou said, spitting even more food across the lunch table as he started to get excited about talking SOTF-TV. Or at least he assumed that they were talking about SOTF-TV. For all Lou knew, Zach and Sean could be talking about some random video game.

"Oh! And then that one creepy as dude with the sledgehammer?! I was watching a highlight of his best kills on the internet last night or something. He cocked back his sledgehammer," Lou said, imitating someone cocking back a sledgehammer while he sat on the plastic chair at his lunchtable ", and he was all like 'BAM' and hit this kid in the ribs. According to the guy giving the commentary about it, it broke something like two ribs in that swing alone! Then the guy freaked out on the dude and just started smashing the guys head with the sledgehammer. Man, it was so freaking EPIC!" Lou said, opening up his Dr. Pepper and taking two quick gulps before setting it back down on the lunch table. Taking another bite of his sandwich, Lou looked back at Zach, Sean and Tim.

"So yeah." Lou said, nodding his head.

[Lord_Shadow]

"Fuck you and your ability to see through my scheming ways you studious bastard!" Was what Tim wanted to say. What he did end up saying was, "Of course, of course. 1:30. I must have my mind somewhere else to be making so many mistakes." He said with a closed mouth smile. "Now then, 10 on Bevery huh? Interesting choice. That's $100 in return if you're right." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. He drew one. "5 of Clovers." 3 of Clubs. Wonderful. Luck was not on his side for sure. He might just end up losing a hundred bucks. Then again, Bevery was a longshot by his reckoning. One of the larger groups, bound to run into somebody and start something, was far more likely in his mind.

Tim ignored Lou's impressively bad table manners. No need to acknowledge the uncool. He was too suave for that.

"Right right. Sledgehammer dude was too much fun. Shows the superiority of blunt weapons for massive trauma. Here's hoping next season has someone with a baseball bat again.."

He tilted his hat back a little. "So how are we going to be resolving this little wager? Meet out in the front after 3? Sound good to you?"

Tim was rapidly losing interest in this conversation anyway. Money was to be made elsewhere it seemed. All he had to do was hear Sean's bet and he was out of there. "Now I'm sorry but I got to split soon. I've got other clients to close business with. So Sean my man, how much am I putting you down for here? Whatever you bet know that I'm good for the return slick, honest." He made another closed mouth smile.

[Anderson]

"Of course, of course. 1:30. I must have my mind somewhere else to be making so many mistakes. Now then, 10 on Bevery huh? Interesting choice. That's $100 in return if you're right."

"$30 back for every $1 I bet on it being one of the twins if I'm right?" Sean pondered the odds for a moment, and peeked in his wallet. Yeah, he was good for the week. "$25. Which would come out to..."

$20 times 30 is $600. $5 times 30 is $150. Which means...

"...$750 if I win. Right?"

Why he is dealing with a bookie who can't do simple math is beyond him, but if Tim is having so much with it, Sean is going to make damn sure that he gets a confirmation on the winnings.

Then again, I'm probably only getting such good odds because nobody wants to bet against the fanservice making it most of the way through. Of course, if I do win this, I also want to see the look on Tim's face.

Truth be told, in spite of his swagger, Sean isn't sure that Tim would be good for that much until after he collects from the folks who lose their bets. Even then, it might be a stretch...he'd need to beat out 75 $10 bets...which has Sean wishing he had $50 to bet on this, just to break the bank on Tim.

Lou's table manners are also largely ignored...mainly because Sean is engaged in a business transaction. However, as the answers to his question come in, Sean offers a collective smile.

"You guys just made my point: We don't remember most of the players, but we definitely don't remember the guys who didn't fight. Other than Zack, nobody here remembers those they killed unless they made a good fight of it." Beat. "Then again, we don't rember the guys Spartacus killed, either."

[Frozen Smoke]

He smiled. He had essentially just got himself some money. Sure, there was a fair chance he was wrong, and that he'd just lost ten big ones, but it gave him a little thrill. He had potentially just earnt himself 100 bucks with a few calculations. That wasn't bad pay. He should gamble more often, after all, the stakes were, for once, on the thinking mans side.

He casually wiped a crumb of... Well, he wasn't sure, but it used to be food from his face. He despised bad table manners. It was such a simple thing that too many forgot. He turned to Lou and gave him a quick look of dissatisfaction. Well, tried to. All that facial distortion stuff was so intricate and complex. It came off as more of a cringe than a slight chiding glance. Not that Zach could tell.

He listened to the bookie and his customer doing some rather easy math as if it were difficult, checking their calculations thrice over. He liked the number three. It seemed like a good number, not for any reason, it just seemed interred in his brain that three was good. It wasn't his favourite number, that honour went to the mathematical construct "Googleplex-plex", he liked the little factoids that it carried. Like how if you could write a zero on every atom in the universe, you still wouldn't be able to write it in full.

It was more his "lucky" number. Though luck was just an illusion, three stood right on the good end of the bell curve. B003 - Jeffery Grand was the first man to escape SOTF, and G03 - Tiffany Gretchin was the single most devastating player of all time, having gotten out twice, with a kill count of 27. And she was originally pegged as fanservice. If he got the B003 tag, he would die a less sad man.

He confirmed their use of multiplication with a concise nod as he pocketed his notebook once more.

"That's just the way of war I guess. It's written by the winners, so the martyrs of the enemies are labelled as madmen, and the fools who rush in are hailed as heroes" he said, articulating the point carefully, before pulling out a dramatic, gruff voice for the finale. "And war, War never changes"

He loved that game, Fallout. One of the ones his Dad seemed to detest, as it never took itself too seriously, which he was glad for. He played them for escapism from his fairly shit life, not as an actual life as so many seemed to.

His smile widened as he waited to see who among them was truly geek, and who would fail to recognise the immortal tagline.

[Lord_Shadow]

"Ha ha, that's right Sean. $750. Great, wonderful. All right. All set to go. I'll meet you guys at three." Tim adjusted his glasses one last time. He was going to make damn sure he never dealt with these two again. At least, not if Zach was around.

Speaking of Zach, he turned to him and said. "You'd think a bunch of giant bugs and mutants would do that huh? Go figure." He titled his hat to them. "Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I've got a few more things to take care of. Ciao and whatnot."

He got up, pushed his seat back in and turned to leave, gave a backhand wave and moved off to better grounds. "Here's hoping I have anything left to spend after 3 today."