ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴡᴀʀ [ᴀɴ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇ-ᴘʟᴀʏ] discussion

An area in the middle of all the tents where there are old games like horseshoes and such.

Carson schlepped through the barely there path to get to the courtyard. He hadn't seen anyone else around all day, which wasn't good when there was the threat of impending annihilation from a country that had seemed harmless. Yeah, Carson was basically looking for someone else to make sure that he wasn't alone. Otherwise he tended to stay with the horses. After a while, there was just no point in talking to people who wanted to whine about how there wasn't any good food, or cry over the loss of relaxing with the TV on. It wasn't like there wasn't things to do around camp. Busywork to distract. Admittedly some people did have better jobs than other people, but for the sake of survival?

Carson blew out a huff of air and bent to pick up some of the rings to toss. He figured staying here was better than wandering around some more. Even if he didn't see someone right away, there was no reason to start worrying yet. Besides, playing a game or two even by himself had to be more fun.

Carson cursed when a strangers's voice interrupted his game. Was it really her fault his aim was off? No. But he could blame her anyways. Carson turned to look at the girl. She seemed young, though a bit tenacious. The boots weren't very practical, but some people had worse luck and had ended up with heels. Nobody ever planned out what to happen in these sort of emergencies. Idiots--himself included.

"Lucky me, I'm doing both." The words weren't said in a oh-boy-I-really-am-lucky way. More like the opposite, why-are-you-bothering-me isn't it obvious what I'm doing tone. He turned back to the game, and tossed another horseshoe. Still missed the goal, but better than before. "You gonna stare at me and write everything down in the journal, or are you gonna get off your ass and come play?" Carson wasn't worried about hurting her feelings. The fact that she wasn't crying said a lot about the girl, Whoever she was. Before everything had changed, Carson would never have asked a girl years younger to do anything with him, but World Ending things tended to alter people's perceptions.

((Gah. Sorry. I'm watching Doctor Who and it's turned into a three part episode and I just--Moffat Dx))

Carson rolled his eyes at Mackenzie. She thought he was going insane? Out of all the people at camp, he was one of the ones who had taken this without too much freaking out. Other kids were so much worse, but he didn't say any of that to her girl. She could think whatever she wanted, stupid twelve year old. "If I see anyone else around, I'll be sure to tell them." He responded callously implying that she wasn't any good. Carson noticed her reaction to the word journal, but didn't pay any attention when she tried to scold him.

When she took the game piece out of his hand Carson rubbed at the tattoo on his arm and gave her a nod of encouragement. He had to look down at her, but that wasn't something Carson minded. It was better to be tall in his opinion. Carson tilted his head and handed her another. "Best two out of three?" He asked, figuring she just had beginner's luck. I mean, psh. Even if she hung out here a lot she couldn't be that good, right? Carson didn't ask her for any helpful tips, figuring it was better to loose on his own than loose after asking her for help.

((Plot.Twist. Tumblr did not prepare me for that I swear))

Almost immediately Carson dropped his hands back to his sides when he saw her staring at the tattoo. He didn't offer up the meaning behind it, and she didn't ask which was nice. Some girls didn't seem to know when to shut up. Mackenzie didn't have that problem, just one about how much better she was than other people. Yeah, he could tell that after just a few minutes with her. Her words were precocious(sp), matching the bold attitude that she tried to radiate. The squeal wrecked her image a bit, but the expression on Mackenzie's face was proud and demanding. Carson nodded, impressed even if he would never behave in a way that told her that.

"Carson," He replied eyeing the ring instead of paying attention to Mackenzie. She was judging him and probably not coming up positive, Carson was fairly certain. He didn't say anything else, just tossed the thing. It landed around the pole, although with decisively less flair than she'd managed to work into her shot. Ehhhh. Still a much needed improvement from his other shots. Those had just been practice, now he was actually playing against someone.

It was almost palpable, the fact that she was still thinking about his tattoo. She wasn't looking at it anymore, but sometimes you just got that feeling that someone was watching you, and that's sort of how he felt. Hard to explain, but Carson trusted his gut feelings. He rubbed at the three stripes, then dropped his hand again. "How old are you shorty?" He asked being purposeful about not using her name. If Carson had wanted to know it, he would have asked... eventually. Besides, he couldn't help but try to nettle her the way she seemed to want to annoy him.

"If I was going to get lucky, I wouldn't waste it on this game." Carson almost smirked at her, but didn't quite. His brown eyes glittered mischievously, but his lips didn't turn up. He held out his hand and she dropped the U shaped bit. Yeah, he could get used to having little kids around if they picked stuff up for him more often. Pausing for a second to glance between her and the goal-mark, Carson tossed once more. It was a nice shot, which was more luck than skill. Of course Carson didn't tell her that though.

It was almost too easy to see that his comment had upset her. Narrowed eyes were such a giveaway when someone was exasperated. Carson arched one of the eyebrows she had commented about, but didn't otherwise let it bother him. His sister always made fun of them, so he was used to it more or less. The fact that she'd found something he was self conscious about so quickly was a harsh reality, but living at this wanna-be-camp made things like that less important than they would have been a month ago. He didn't bother to answer Mackenzie's question, figuring she'd only asked because he'd asked her first.

Carson didn't say anything right away, letting his emotions simmer instead of bubbling over. He didn't like her implying that he was playing a kids game, despite the fact that there weren't many better options around the place. "Bet you've spent ten of those thirteen years practicing." Yeah, it was a low comment, but at least he hadn't hit something... Which was bound to happen soon if Mackenzie kept behaving as an uppity socialite(socialiete? Sp). Who the heck else used words like 'must'? Wanna was modern and just as effective at getting a point across. Ugh, the barely-a-teenager was winning. He'd have to make another good shot, because Carson had a feeling Mackenzie would never let him live it down if he lost.

Mackenzie was smirking, Carson noticed. This was why he didn't usually talk to people--they just irked him. Even his sister, whom Carson tried really hard to get along with was just too much sometimes. He curled and uncurled his fingers a couple of times. Not quite clenching his hands, but pretty close. It helped keep him focused instead of getting upset. Or, more upset anyways. Yeah, Carson had issues with keeping his emotions in check. She was six years younger than him. Why had Carson asked her to come over and play? She really should be writing in a journal, like a normal pre-teen girl. Still, she was good at the game, which was less than common with other kids around here.

He decided not looking at her would be easier, that way he'd be able to focus on not loosing. So of course he didn't see her wink. It didn't take a genius though, to figure out that she was able to dish the sarcasm right back at him without hardly thinking about it. Kind of impressive, but mostly reckless and annoying. Carson ran a hand through his hair, and watched her fourth shot score a point. She was good, and if they had put a bet on the winner, Carson might have been a tad bit worried. Instead, he was a mixture of bitter, exasperated and semi-hostile. Not exactly the clear head a person might want when playing a game like this. Carson rubbed at his tattoo once more. It wasn't a good-luck thing. He thought baseball players who used charms or rituals were stupid. For Carson, his tattoo was just something he touched out of habit. "Well Kenzy, consider it a sixth of your life wasted, because there's no way you're going to beat me." So his math was off, whatever. He'd rounded down--people were allowed to do that.

Carson looked down at her, arching an eyebrow. Was she really going to lecture him about math? It wasn't like he'd had a calculator to figure out what 13/2 was to the exact decimal. Also, even though that might be more accurate, it sounded less cool. Nobody normal used decimals, although with her 'musts' and other non-slang he didn't exactly consider her to be the average person... She probably could do math like that in her head. But that was beside the point! It wasn't like Mackenzie had really spent two years studying and playing horseshoes for real; did it really matter? Nope, she just liked making fun of him..

Her mistake because, Psh, Who said this boy was an airhead who didn't know anything? Just because he didn't take much initiative didn't mean he didn't have knowledge about things. For example, he knew if his horseshoe landed on hers than he got extra points. He also knew the likelihood(sp?) of that happening was slimmer than a page of paper. A brittle and thin piece of paper that no one wanted to use. But that didn't stop Carson from trying. He had shifted his aim from ringers and such to blocking hers with his next throw. Carson looked down at Mackenzie again instead of watching the U land. Unable to resist responding, Carson's voice was authoritative and smug. He was still wrathful, but didn't say anything sinister. As snide as Mackenzie might be, Carson did consider her to be young enough that he would watch what he said. Yeah, Mackenzie would undoubtedly hate it if she knew, but Carson didn't want to be a bad example despite how things might end up. "I know, It's the first to forty points."