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It wasn't that Veer was afraid of a little hard work but...

Wait. Restart.

It was that Veer was afraid of a little hard work. Any time he set foot in one of the main outposts, wandered through the kitchens, sat around the grounds, someone seemed to have something for him to do. Clean up needed to happen. Books needed to be sorted [that one wasn't so bad]. Food needed to be cooked, potatoes needed to be peeled, pools needed to be flushed out, rubble moved. If he failed to take up what some self-righteous pain in the a** considered his fair share, he'd get glared at, or lectured, or whispered about behind his back, he was sure.

None of that really appealed to him, and he was starting to get thoroughly tired of it.

So he found excuses to wander, ways to get to other places. 'Cleaning up the mirror pools' could mean taking a nap in the shade nearby, since not many people were in the area. 'Dusting one of the rooms in Virgo' could mean poking through the clothing found in one of the cabinets, could mean rooting through goodies and not actually dusting an inch. Most of the people who'd been tossed up here did seem the sort inclined to helping out, and that was good news for him. It meant he could slip away unnoticed, more or less.

He'd been hoping to find other people out near Gemini Outpost, today. Somewhere away from the work, find kindred souls who might be interested in a poker game, a deck of very old cards tapping absently against his hand.

It was quiet, though. Alas. Instead he set up with his back against a tree and laid out a game of solitaire, trying not to think about how much better this game was when on a screen in front of him, operated by a mouse.

The voice made Veer tense and frown, drawing his legs back slowly in an attempt to hide them from potential view. Vulpe peering around the corner mad it that much worse, because that outfit definitely marked him as one of them. Slave drivers. Humorless pains in the a** who always seemed to have some work to do, and most of his fellow kidnappees took that at face value.

Veer wouldn't have minded so much the rest of it if he had something fun to do, at least. If it weren't for being stranded in space.

In any case, senshi weren't treated with friendship but with suspicion, his shoulders tense and a frown on his face. "...could be better. What you want?"

There was a hesitation, still not exactly trusting, but -- something about Vulpe's attitude made him relax, by notches. This wasn't another jailer coming to pile some stupid and fairly impossible task in front of him. This was a fellow slacker trying to escape from the hoards, and Veer could definitely sympathize with that.

He reached out to take a cigarette, but didn't try for a light, didn't lift it to his mouth. Instead Veer twisted the things between his fingers, a jittery motion, winding it in and out and around and back. It was a little short for the trick. A pen was much better.

"Your outfit is less stupid than most." That was a compliment. Kind of.

"I'm pretty sure there are some folks around with good s**t. They probably share. I can smell it around them, like a cloud..." He tipped his head, hesitating another moment, before shrugging and holding out the cigarette for a light. Veer didn't smoke, not really; once and again at a party, maybe, or trying to socialize with someone hot...

The draw he took wasn't a smoker's desperate puff but just enough that he could blow it out slowly, working his way up to stand as he did. "I gotta say, though, I think the most ******** up thing about that outfit is that it's white. What must your dry cleaning bill be like?"

He blinked, shot a look down to the abandoned cards -- so old that the pictures were starting to fade away, the edges curled and rumpled, most of the smooth texture turned toward something rougher. Add to that, now, the fact that Veer had set them in the dirt, and they probably weren't doing all that well. Before he'd touched them, maybe they'd been worth something...

"Solitaire, but it ******** sucks when you have to deal with actual cards. I mean, look at this." He leaned down, just a little, so that he could blow across the cards. It rumpled them, set them all out of sorts, layering over each other and destroying the carefully laid out pattern.

Everyone has their own hangover ritual. Some say the best thing is a cup of coffee, others concoct some other beverage to 'cure' the hangover, while others insist that the only way to cure a hangover is to smoke a joint. For Ricky Cunningham, the best way to cure a hangover was to do the thing you want to do least: exercise.

After waking up on the stone floor of the Gemini Outpost's Rumpus Room, having apparently spent the night, he started a short jog around the Outpost to get his blood flowing and leave his hangover behind him. It wasn't until the end of the jog that he spotted Veer and Vulpecae lounging together. He jogged over to them with a stupid grin on his face.

"Howdy, buds," he greeted in his thick southern drawl. He recognized Veer from another night of heavy-drinking, but couldn't quite recall the boy's name. "What ya'll doin' out here? Yer uh, er, I forgot yer name. But I'm Ricky, n'case ya forgot. And you..." Ricky looked at the other man. "Yer one of them Senshi, ain't ya?"

The Senshi in white saluted with a wide grin. “Nothin against helping out around here but good lord the things I got to do to get a smoke in around here are kinda crazy. Have a seat! I’m Vulpecuale, I’m senshi of restoration, and NO I’m I already tried to fix the walls that way, doesn’t work for crap unless someone is hurt.” He shrugged and puffed a few rings of smoke.

“What kinda card games do we all know?”

"What, with three people? That's stupid. We'd be better off with like, spoons or something." He shook his head, absently straightening his pile and setting to shuffling. Maybe they didn't know what they were going to play, but he could at least shuffle the cards: weaving them absently together and then water falling them. Flip the deck over, do it again. He wasn't a card sharp, by any means, but at some point someone had taught him this much, at least.

"...except we don't have any goddamned spoons. Unless you can pull spoons out of thin air?" This was addressed to Vulpe, both of his eyebrows raised in question. The cards fell very slowly back into his palm.