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MCA Lobby - Sunday Afternoon

Rusty was once again hanging out in the lobby in case there were any new folks who needed an apartment.

This time he had beer, chips and dip and was watching football playoffs. He'd probably share if anyone wanted to hang out.

[No OCD again. *is lazy* Come hang out with Rusty and watch football or rent an apartment! Three apartments available, details here.]

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Wandering through the lobby with an box full of knickknacks to decorate her apartment with, Lacey stopped and looked curiously at the TV. "Why is there football on in January?"

While she couldn't actually tell you the details of the CFL season schedule's structure, she knew Saskatchewan had a team, and therefore (Saskatchewan being Saskatchewan) was reasonably certain there wasn't football in January.

"Playoffs," Rusty explained. "Not a fan, huh?"

"No, no," Lacey said hastily. "I like football."

***
Flash-cut to Taylor Field, Regina. It's the Saskatchewan Roughriders against the BC Lions for the West Division championship, and as the clock runs down the Roughriders are clinging to a two point lead. It's 3rd and 10, and then there's the snap, and the entire stadium holds its breath as a runner breaks down the field. Hank, Brent, Wanda, Davis, Karen, Oscar, and Emma are wide-eyed, slack-jawed, riveted. Lacey, beside them, is on her feet.

LACEY: COME ON! GO GO GO GO GO! WOOOOO! YEAH!

She drops back down into her seat and gets scandalized looks from everyone.

LACEY: . . . what?

HANK, in a tone of pure horror: You just cheered the Lions all the way into the end zone. How could you, Lacey?

WANDA: I've never been so betrayed in my entire life.

The others get up and walk away, leaving Lacey sitting there confused . . . and the subject of scandalized stares from the other spectators.

LACEY: What?
***

"I mean. I'm not a huge fan, but I like it. You know." She gestured vaguely at the TV with the box. "During football season."

Rusty nodded. "I'm not a huge fan either, but I have some money on the game. You want a beer?"

"Isn't it a little early in the day for that?" asked Lacey. "Aw, you know, what the heck. Let me just put these downstairs and be right back."

"Excellent, I'll go grab one out of the fridge," Rusty said.

When Lacey returned a few minutes later, she had a Roughriders jersey on -- a Christmas present from Hank, it was way too big for her, but she wouldn't have suspected Hank of good gift-giving instincts anyway.

In point of fact she looked utterly ridiculous.

"Okay!" she said brightly. "I'm all ready to go. Had to get in the spirit," she added with a supremely dorky fistpump.

Rusty grinned and handed her a beer. "Don't think I've heard of that team."

"Really?" asked Lacey. "It's not like there's that many of them . . . oh wait, this is American football, isn't it? I was wondering why the yellow post thingies were on the wrong side of the end . . . area."

"Oh, right, you're not American," Rusty said. "Sorry for the mixup. Guess that's why you didn't know why they were playing in January."

"I knew that," Lacey said, entirely unconvincingly. "About American football, I mean. I just forgot."

Never mind that she'd been in Fandom for the better part of a year now.

Rusty didn't believe that, but he let it pass. "You're Lacey, right?"

He was still getting to know his tenants after all.

"That's me!" Lacey brightened, pleased he'd remembered her name. "I can't remember your name, though."

"Rusty. Rusty Ryan," he said, offering another grin.

"Well, it's nice to actually officially meet you now, Rusty," Lacey said, and proceeded to utterly fail at opening her beer ~~*mods beer bottle*~~. She frowned at the TV. "Wow, the field seems so small."

"Need me to get that for you?" Rusty asked, noticing her struggles with the bottle. "And small compared to what?"

"It doesn't look wide enough," Lacey said as she handed him the bottle; it wasn't as if she could explain that a Canadian football field was 110 yards long and 65 yards wide to an American 100 by 53 1/3, because, well, it was Lacey. With an apologetic scrunching up of her face, she looked at him and added, "American sports are weird."

Yes, Lacey. Because no one ever says that about Canadian sports, really.

Rusty snickered. He didn't know anything about Canadian football. "Honestly? I think all sports are a little weird," he confided, popping the top of her beer bottle and handing it back to her.

"Well, yeah." Lacey took the bottle back from him with a grateful smile. "All that sweaty competitive macho stuff. I don't really get it." Never mind that she'd nosed her way into coaching the Dog River hockey team. Hush.

"I much prefer pursuing more... gentlemanly activities," Rusty said. "How do you feel about poker?"

Flash-cut to a booth at the Ruby, with Lacey, Hank, Brent, and Wanda sitting at the table with a hand of cards each.

LACEY, leaning over to show Brent her cards: Brent! I think I have a straight! Does that beat Wanda's hand?

***

"It's not my best game but I'm pretty decent," Lacey said with a decisive nod.

"I've been thinking of putting a game together," Rusty said.

"Really?" Despite the eagerness of Lacey's question, her expression leaned further toward intimidated. "Like a building social event? Aw, that'd be neat."

"Something like that," Rusty said. "No big stakes or anything. Just some friendly competition."

Lacey relaxed a little. "So I shouldn't be worried that we're going to end up on ESPN or anything like that? I never got why poker was on the sports networks anyway."

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