goldmine

[churchbelle]

[It's a credit to Hazel, he thinks (and says a few times), that he always finds the best hotel. Money isn't an issue, so of course he skips over every run down inn with leaky roofs and beds packed several to a room and finds the classier establishment. Then the classiest suite, with its own sitting room and a separate bedroom for each of them and very eager room service.

It's for show, of course; the finery entertains him for all of half an hour, maybe, before he's worn it out and falls back on his other vice - ordering a lot of wine up to the suite. In this latest hotel he's done just that, after dinner, and had enough wine and chattered on about enough nothing that he— honestly, he dozes off on the couch. The couch is very plush, alright, it's just so comfortable...

He's not even aware of dropping off to sleep, and so when he wakes a few hours later it's with a jolt of surprise. There's a blanket over him- he throws it aside- and Gat sitting in one of the armchairs opposite the couch. Sanzo, bless the man, is nowhere to be seen. Hazel looks at Gat, and his frown is all the question he needs—

"Downstairs."

And like that, Hazel is up and awake. He gives his clothes a cursory few tugs to straighten them out and runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. Then he leaves Gat to do... whatever it is Gat does when he's not right there, and heads for the ground floor. Sanzo isn't loitering in any lobby corners, so - the bar, surely.

There aren't many people in here at this hour, thankfully, or more witnesses might be there to see Hazel sidle up to the table and sit right down, leaning on his elbows like he's smooth and not someone who just fell asleep on a couch for a few hours.]

Mister Sanzo, ain't it gettin' a bit late?

Comments

[churchbelle]

We're gettin' to know each other, like I said. [Hazel's happy enough to put the subject of Gat away, where it belongs. There are things that are his business and things that are his business, and the subtle difference is only one of those is actually things he has a personal right to know about.

Guess which one he's angling for now? Only one try. He takes a rather long sip of wine before leaning on his elbow again and propping his chin in his hand.]

Other than what you do and where you're goin', Mister Sanzo, I don't know a lick about ya! [He puts the glass down and taps on the table with his now free hand, a little... excitable. Stay with him-] I've got it, now, hear this-

Ever play Twenty Questions?

[badtemperedmonk]

[ Hazel doesn’t know a thing about him, and Sanzo would like for it to stay that way. But if trading information for information is how this has to go, then he can deal with it. He’s gotten through a hell of a lot worse, and who ever said he’d have to tell the entire truth? ]

Never played it, but I’ve listened to other people waste their time with it. [ Gojyo and Goku come to mind, then are quickly shooed right back out again. Those two have a bad habit of intruding even when they’re not actually around. He makes a small show of mulling the idea over, fingers tapping against the side of his glass, though he's already decided how he's going to approach this. ] Remind me of the rules.

[churchbelle]

[Hazel gives him a look, one eyebrow raised, amused - he believes that and it's not surprising at all, that Sanzo resentfully listens to people play harmless games. From what little he knows about the man just from traveling with him, it makes sense.

But he perks up a moment later, genuinely grinning at him. Alright, rules!] Well, it's mighty simple, of course- first we pick a category, then one of us asks the other questions that ya can answer with yes or no. [This he says with some annoyingly theatrical gesturing back and forth for 'yes' and 'no,' like it requires that.] The point's to figure out what the other man's got on his mind, judgin' from what answers he gives.

It's an innocent little parlor game, but it'll do the trick, don'tcha think?

[badtemperedmonk]

[ Sanzo doubts it’s going to end up as ‘innocent’ as Hazel is implying, given just what both men are likely to have their minds. But that’s fine. It’s actually preferable to the final answer being something like “a houseplant” or “the bartender’s tie.” ]

Seems like it will. But a game isn’t much of a game without stakes. If you aren’t able to guess what I’m thinking of with 20 questions or less, then what? [ He gives Hazel his full attention now from across the table, forearms bearing his weight on the tabletop, drink unattended to the side. ]

[churchbelle]

[Just wait until Hazel's first topic is "room service." With an attitude like that...!

Hazel's much busier with his drink, meanwhile, and blinks with slight surprise at the sudden higher interest. Or at least, he thinks it's higher— Stakes don't cow him at all, of course. He can clean out a man's pockets easily at poker, so 20 Questions? Easy.]

Y'got somethin' in mind for that wager? For anyone else I'd over to buy 'em another drink, but... [He shrugs.] Well, pick a penalty.

['Pick your poison.' But it's just a stupid game. Hazel purses his lips over the edge of his glass, then adds,] An' be fair about it.

[badtemperedmonk]

[ Sanzo should probably be more concerned about making a bet with a man that gives Hakkai a run for his money at cards, but instead he’s caught up in considering the stakes. Not what he could lose, but rather, what he can get out of Hazel when he wins. This game can’t be that hard to master. ]

Loser has to answer one question. Honestly. Any refusal or outright lie comes with the added penalty of losing control of their bank account for a week. [ A moment of silence and a sip of alcohol passes before Sanzo adds- ] I think that seems fair enough. If you don’t, come up with something better.

[churchbelle]

[Hazel's not particularly concerned about what Sanzo's going to choose, before it comes; he expects something like "the loser will leave the winner the hell alone for a whole day," so--

He blinks, when he hears what it actually is. The money isn't a problem, given how loose his pursestrings are (and he's seen that little gold card). But...]

Let me see if I'm hearin' this right-- ya want to play Twenty Questions... to ask another question? Mister Sanzo, that ain't even tryin' to be adventurous. [Still! He shrugs, sitting back a little.] But it ain't unfair, so if that's what ya want, then I've got no complaints.

[A beat.]

It'd be ungentlemanly of me not to give ya the privilege of goin' first.

[badtemperedmonk]

If I wanted adventure tonight, I would have chosen a different bar. [ This one is relatively nice, seeing as it’s attached to the hotel. Not that there aren’t a few rougher looking patrons, but between it being late and a bar… that’s pretty much par for the course.

And if a few of the men lingering in the most stereotypically dark and ominous corner of the room just happen to be giving off a less than human vibe, well. That’s pretty common too, considering. Sanzo doesn’t even a spare a glance their way as he leans back in his chair. ]

Fine. Does whatever you’re thinking of have a pulse?

[churchbelle]

[Hazel doesn't spare anyone menacingly out of the ordinary a glance himself, but for entirely different reasons; he's pretending they don't exist, more or less. And not out of polite indifference.

He takes a moment to actually think of something for this game, now that they've finally gotten around to it. Keep it simple...]

Surely does. [hazel just say "yes" like a normal person] That's one.

[He pauses, then waves down the waiter again and asks for... toothpicks. "A whole handful of 'em's fine," and everything. When they arrive a moment later- slow night- he leaves the bulk in a pile and sets one over to the side. Mostly, this is to be a prat and fiddle with toothpicks the whole time, but also--]

Mighty waste of time if we lose count.

[ Special skill: raising old threads from the dead ]

[badtemperedmonk]

[ A slight lift of one eyebrow is Sanzo’s only indication that he recognizes Hazel’s idea as a worthwhile one. Unfortunately for Hazel, he’s not going to get any more than that. Sanzo eyes one of the toothpicks that has started to roll towards him, then flicks it so it makes a hasty retreat back to its pile. ]

Does it travel with you? [ He’ll skip the ‘is it human’ question for now, because Sanzo doesn’t actually know if Gat can be considered ‘human,’ and trying to pin down the right vocabulary to use just to rule one person out would be a waste of questions.

He’s not taking this seriously at all, by the way. ]

whoa

[churchbelle]

[All of Hazel's ideas are good ideas. He takes that errant toothpick back with a click of his tongue, as Sanzo's flicking jolts the whole pile a little. While he organizes those and sets another one aside in the "counting" pile, he shakes his head.]

That's a certifiable no.

[Gat would have been too easy, Sanzo, please. He almost picked Gat just to waste time, but those untoward comments about their weird relationship earlier put him off... Thanks for nothing.

What could this mystery thing with a pulse be??]

[badtemperedmonk]

[ Certifiable. Count on Hazel to find a way to make a simple ‘no’ somehow more irritating. He really should have known that Gat was off the table for this. At the same time though, if Sanzo hadn’t tried to guess Gat and that had been the answer, he would have felt like an idiot for missing out on the obvious.

He’s also not entirely sure that Hazel isn’t changing his answer as they go, so there’s that. ]

Fine. Then you go. [ He reaches out for a toothpick and ignores the way eyes across the room follow the movement of his hand. He doesn’t know what they’re waiting for, other than maybe for the crowd in the bar to thin out a little. Not that the status of the bar has stopped demonic assassins in the past. ] We’ll switch off when there’s a ‘no.’ Otherwise, I’m getting bored of this already.

[churchbelle]

[He's not changing his answer, not yet. Would he, if it would make it harder for Sanzo to win? Easily. What's a little cheating at a stupid parlor game between traveling companions? Water under the bridge, come morning.

And he likes to win.

He considers this new back-and-forth method for barely a second before he shrugs, leaning his elbow on the edge of the table and his chin on his hand. He notices the stir - or lack thereof, really - as other patrons keep an eye on Sanzo mostly because he's expecting it. The unruly sort that follows Sanzo's usual group around isn't subtle, and these dregs are hardly a cut above the rest.

But, well, they can watch if they want.]

Don't lose patience with me so soon, Mister Sanzo. [A tilt of his head, then,] Now, it's a lil unorthodox to get right down to it on the first question, but seein' as how it's you--

You're not thinkin' of askin' me about Mister Ukoku, are ya?

[like, can we not dance around that particular Issue for one evening, can you do that for him]