[OOM] Oswin, Moriarty and Poker.

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty's room is - much as someone would expect. There's a bed, a desk with an array of soil samples and various examining equipment (as well as a pile of unmarked papers) and a few large armchairs and a leather sofa set around a coffee table.

Moriarty holds open the door for Oswin, before setting the bottles on the coffee table and taking off his coat, hanging it up by the door. His boots are deposited beneath it. After all, it's rude to wear a coat and boots inside.

"I hope you don't mind losing too much," he says cheerily.

Comments

[souffle_girlek]

There's a burst of startled laughter when he reveals his cards, which she manages to stifle with her hands.

"Oh, you poor dear. Yes, I will accept that."

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

"Very fortunate. I'd hate to get gangrenous flakes everywhere," Moriarty says with a wink, and heads to one corner of the room to pluck his violin up from where it rests near his desk.

[souffle_girlek]

Oswin settles into her chair, pulling her bottle close.
"You know, looser pants would probably help with that." She muses in a slightly drowsy, still terribly cheerful voice. Seems Oswin is a quiet drunk, at least.

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty just snorts, picking up his violin and bow. He takes a moment to check them.

With a quick glance at Oswin, he starts playing Paganini's Caprice #7,

[souffle_girlek]

She smiles, warm and buzzed and with the (very well played, actually) music swirling around her. Before, her smile could be further defined - competitive or mischievous, playful or wry. This is just...

Happy.

Enormously happy.

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty keeps his gaze on Oswin, and permits himself a small smile at her expression.

(Mostly because he likes seeing her happy. Partly because the last person to enjoy his music so much was the Viceroy - although Moriarty could never be sure if it was the music or the act of playing that brought him so much pleasure - and it's good to have a memory to supplant those.)

Before long, he's moved on to Paganini's Caprice #8.

[souffle_girlek]

The cadences are almost familiar, like a half-forgotten story she heard once, a long time ago. It's been a while since she's gone in for any music except for what she'd memorized prior to the crash. They're half-finished equations or lines of code that she can almost solve before he gives the answer.

Being sauced probably doesn't help.

...

Being drowsy because you're sauced probably doesn't help either.

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

When Moriarty finishes #8, he moves - with a kind of finality to the strumming that suggests this is the last piece of the impromptu concert - onto Silent Night.

It's a short song, over in a little over two minutes, and then he's very carefully setting the violin to one side.

[souffle_girlek]

"It's beautiful, James." Her voice is soft, to fit the mood set by the music. "I declare I'm satisfied that the debt is paid."

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty beams, ducking his head slightly as he heads over to settle into an armchair - not the one he'd played cards from, but a closer one, situated next to Oswin's chair.

"Glad to be of service."

[souffle_girlek]

"Where did you learn?" She asks idly, offering her half of a bottle. "There aren't too many who can play, where I'm from."

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

"At university. My patron, the, er, one paying for me to go and vouching for me, insisted," Moriarty says, a little ruefully, taking the bottle off her and knocking back a few gulps. "He paid for my lessons. I picked it up quickly."

[souffle_girlek]

She raises her eyebrow archly, stretching a foot over to poke his leg.
"Vouching for you? Don't tell me you were a bad boy, James."

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty chuckles. Possibly a bit more and a bit louder than he would if he were entirely sober.

"No, er - I mean, I was a thirteen year old fisherman's son from a conquered territory. Just about as far from the ideal university admission as they come."

[souffle_girlek]

"Fisherman? As in... real fish?" If anything, she sounds fascinated. She has absolutely no idea what one might do to convince a fish to come out of the water.

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty peers at her, then nearly bursts out laughing.

"- Aye, real fish. Do they not have those where you're from?"

[souffle_girlek]

She pouts, and would lob something at him, but there doesn't appear to be anything in arm's reach that fits the criteria of 'throwable' and 'unlikely to actually hurt if it connected'. Pity.

"Yes, just... on a plate. I haven't the foggiest how they got them there." For all she knows there's fish farms with single-cell enclosures that are flash-frozen when the fish is big enough.

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

"I, er," Moriarty blinks, for a moment, because he's never encountered anyone who doesn't have at least a vague understanding of how fishing works. "Nets. There are nets - into the sea."

Beat.

"Nets."

[souffle_girlek]

"... Nets." She bursts into giggles at the mental image that provides. "Like... butterfly nets? Swoosh?" She asks, complete with appropriate hand gestures to mimic attempting to catch a fish in a net that small.

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

"No, like, really big nets," Moriarty makes a wide gesture. "Giant nets, that you throw out and then wait for fish to get caught in."

[souffle_girlek]

".... Sounds... inefficient." She blinks, considering. "What if they don't get in the net?"

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty shakes his head. "It's fine enough that if they swim through, they get caught. You throw it down somewhere with a lot of fish, over a large area, and you can get a good haul."

[souffle_girlek]

"Huh." It's clear from her tone she can't quite visualize it, but she's willing to go on faith for now.

(How many fish can be in one nets-length of area, anyway?)

(... is there a formula for fish?)

[awesome_binomial_theorems]

Moriarty grins, and then -

- promptly lets out a really, really big yawn.

[souffle_girlek]

"Hah!" There's V-for-victory gesturing in response, and she entirely clumsily gets to her feet. "Now you, mister, need to sleep, and I'm gonna go... um. Fall over."