*

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the first thing she notices about the woman seemingly making fun of her situation - was her style. the girl looked sick, that’s for sure “i’m glad my failure made your day” she glances back at the club noticing her apologetic look “i figure you never played poker before, huh?”

*

‘Never, but now I don’t feel like I can ask you to show me the joys of it.’ Maisy pointed at the closing doors behind the woman. ‘Doesn’t look like this is your spot anymore.’ She said it with a smile — this was to the woman. The sympathy of Maisy Ackerman doesn’t tend to lie exclusively with bouncers, and the woman’s ‘winning’ exit itself showed very great promise. With an almost laugh, Maisy asked, ‘What happened in there?’

“My fault.” Aksel said with a small smile. “ I wasn’t looking where I was going. In my defence there is gigantic tree which distracted me.” He said with a small chuckle. “ You like christmas?” He asked, his accent different to the people walking around him. “  I have never seen the Christmas lights here so Its a new thing for me.”

Aksel looked down at the brochures and shrugged. “ I have a weekend off so I wanted to head out upstate, maybe find somewhere I could ski or go camping before I start my new show.” He looked down at the brochures and then smiled back at her. “ I’m Aksel.” He said and chuckled. “ I would shake hands but I have them full with all of these.” he said nodding to the brochures

*

‘Christmas? Big time.’ Maisy looked around them. Fact one: there was a big tree. Fact two: it was distracting. Absolutely checked out and confirmed. The now shared pile of leaflets (and the ones that probably blew away through people’s feet) consolidate the claim further. Need we go on at seasonal beauty? Repeat, no harm no foul, no harm no foul!

‘Love when everything looks like this. Or begins looking like this. Just wait till the lights go up, I always visited with my family to see it. ‘Tis a sight to behold, is the wording, I believe.’ She nodded, couldn’t help but try and clock the rest of the leaflets in his hand, look for something she’d know anything about. ‘Maisy.’ She pointed to herself. ‘You’re in a show?’

who: Anyone 

Where: Outside the Rockefeller center by the big christmas tree

After a meal with his manager at the rainbow room restaurant on the 65th floor of the center, Aksel was grateful to be back on the ground, as much as he loved heights, he preferred the one level restaurants where he could people watch. He waved goodbye to his manager and stopped to look at the Christmas tree being put up. It was his first Christmas in New York and although he didn’t want to admit it, he was excited. With it being his last week of rehearsals before his show started, Aksel had planned things to do every night and then his last weekend before the show started on Tuesday 23rd November, he had convinced his boss to let him have time to himself. 

Now looking at the timeout guide of things to do it New York and with a handful of New York camping and skiing brochures, Aksel was  already juggling too much when his phone then rang. He shuffled his brochures from one hand to another and then grabbed his phone but was too late. With a sigh, he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and then turned and walked into someone causing him to drop his brochures on the floor. “Blyad‘” He whispered to himself “ Sorry.” He mumbled and began to pick up the brochures. 

She loves this; the wandering around, the not really having to be anywhere. Evenings in general, really. When the clocks have just been put back and it gets dark early, which should be depressing but isn’t yet when the place is so beautifully lit up like this. The lame tourist badge doesn’t apply when touristy things actually aren’t lame and you’re denouncing the concept of lameness altogether anyway. Maisy loves this.

She’s all eyes open, wide and gawking. The lights aren’t from the tree yet, she’d timed her touristy business poorly. This is the first Christmas in NYC as an actual city dweller; visiting the city with her family around Christmas time in the past, she had never needed to check on the specifics. She’d hold her mom’s hand and it’d lead her to the sparkling tree. The thing is just being put up now. The thought of seeing the full works with the backdrop of the Rockefellar brews enthusiasm enough, though. She notes how she needs to plan things from now on. 

‘Shit.’ She’s knocked into, but she only wobbles for a second. Her bad. Sort of. Now, she notes how she needs to stop acting the part of a statue - New York doesn’t take to stillness so well. ‘Sorry, I know, it’s like keep it moving. I forget standing still here isn’t really a concept.’ 

Maisy bends down with the man - no harm, no foul - and helps pick the brochures up. Another note to self: brochures with outings and, more importantly, times and dates are not a half bad idea. Maisy fumbles over the dishevelled pile and offers them back. ‘You’ll be keeping busy with these then, huh?’

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S T A R T E R

- streets of nyc

getting kicked out from a poker club wasn’t on flora’s radar that night. she wasn’t bad at the game at first but other players started noticing her c h e a t i n g and distracting other players. seeing the first person on the street after exiting the club she can’t help but make light of the embarrasing situation “now that’s how you win at poker!” while being escorted by bouncers

Fresh air was the only thing on Maisy’s mind that night. A walk to clear the head, some inspiration to go on enjoying another evening. It gets lonely. Boring, frankly, and even though she’s ignored the desperate temptation to start a conversation with near enough every person that’s looked her even close to the eye on the street (ex-small town friendliness — something that’s totally almost been warned out of her since moving here [but it has also been months, she was aware the habit should’ve died those same ago]), she can hardly ignore a direct attempt at contact from someone else. Her face brightens in the darkness. 

‘Wow! God,’ she called back. ‘I’ve never seen a game end like this before. Do you keep these guys? They’re the pot?’  The bouncers, she means. She gives a side ways, almost apologetic glance to them, before looking back at the Totally Ultimate Poker Player.