midpointsaloon | Big City Living (Midpoint Mingle)

The town of Midpoint: called thus because it is at the exact center of the game arena, a busy little Western town full of strange people, many of whom don’t look remotely human, because this is where all the players gather and live. Midpoint Saloon: called thus because it is the only bar in Midpoint. It’s also the biggest building in town, four stories high, dotted with windows, painted a jaunty yellow and decorated with red and green flowers in all the window boxes.

This is where your veteran teammate points you. Or just stomps off to and hopes you follow.

Downstairs is a bar and tavern, Old West style, right down to the upright piano in one corner and a raucous crowd of locals - largely locals, but with a healthy smattering of unusual or downright alien faces that clearly indicate the presence of other Players - eating, drinking, gambling, and getting into trouble. There’s a broad, bearded man behind the bar, waving cheerfully at you as you enter.

The rest of the night and the next day is yours to do with what you see fit. Explore the town, take a long nap in your new room, try to get to know people... everyone is here for the next twenty-four hours before travel to the mission site, so it’s a good chance to scope out the competition, at the very least.

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That was also about the answer he suspected. There really had to be a better way to ask about things like that, but Sam was hard pressed to think of one at the moment. He shuts the door behind them, figuring this was as secure as they were going to get. As long as they kept their voices down they probably wouldn't be herd by any new neighbors.

"That bad, huh? You wanna talk about it?" Sam was curious, but he wouldn't pry either -- he knew that wasn't necessarily the way to go most of the time. Still, he was the one to bring it up, which told Sam he might want to vent a little bit.

"Not much to tell, really. Misty and I found two women in the cells. They took it pretty well, all things considered, which tells me they've probably seen some things prior to this." To what extent and what kind of "things" was yet to be determined, but both had seemed very familiar with weapons if nothing else.

"Very nice lady called me her handler and I freaked out," Soldat says, a little irritably, waving a hand as if trying to wave it off. They prowl the suite, checking Sam's window and the empty room opposite his. They've done it before. Security sweeps are still a thing even if the room hasn't changed since the last time they've been in it, sorry, Sam. "That's what people in HYDRA used to call themselves. My handlers. She was very kind about it, but it was still. Not great."

Coming back into the main room, they look around one more time from by the couch, then add, "They've all seen things, I think. Seem like nobody comes here totally innocent." Not even Daylight, not anymore. Poor kid. Who isn't even a kid anymore.

Sam lets Bucky do his thing, watching him when he's in the main lounge area, but not necessarily getting up to follow him into the adjacent bedrooms. He could sit -- but he'd been riding most of the day and it felt better to do a little stretching to work out his muscles as opposed to just collapsing into a chair. He'd learned pretty quickly that he'd have an easier night if he stretched now as opposed to just giving into the urge to be a couch potato for the evening.

"Not a great start...but it sounds like you were able to smooth things over a bit." He hasn't met this person, but if it's a woman Sam has an idea, "You could probably buy her a nice drink to make it up to her if you're overly concerned about your first impression." For his disheveled appearance, Bucky was still a good looking guy -- the nice lady probably appreciated that as much as anything else. Sam doesn't say this out loud though, instead amusing himself with the image.

He looks back over when Bucky rejoins him. He seems to go through a mental roster of the veteran players he knows vs some of the people he'd noticed down stairs. "You may have a point...could be that's something the people in charge look for before bringing people here." The closest approximation for all of this is reality television back home. There's an audition process to that and usually people are WILLING, but the point is people are vetted before they're allowed on. This is a game and, when all is said and done, they're being made to do this for entertainment. You wouldn't want to bring someone in who would just die without a fight.

Who you calling disheveled, Sam. Soldat takes good care of their hair, they shave (pretty) regularly, and their clothes are always a flattering color. Said hair might be a little shaggy, and they might tend towards layers whenever not on a mission and out in the heat, but a little bit of the Bucky Barnes vanity has filtered through. They do give him a look for the drink comment, though. Sam's seen the extent of their social capabilities. They're not extensive-- though they're getting better every day of having actual friends to talk to.

They drift over to where Sam is standing, not too close but not actually out of arm's reach, which is their sign of trust these days. "I'm trying to prep to actually go. Talk to some of them. Stay out in the saloon for more than a few minutes at a time." The face they make: probably kind of funny, in that it's reluctant and annoyed all at once, in Soldat's low-key kind of expressive.

You gotta start somewhere, right? Besides, no one said you had to socialize for long.

Sam raises an eyebrow and then smiles, partly from amusement at the expression on Bucky's face but partly because he knows what he needs to say next. "You know, if you needed a wingman you really just had to ask."

Is it an old joke? Yes. Does he care? Not particularly.

"Sam," Soldat says, somewhere between a (small) grin and a groan. "Jesus. No. I do not need a wingman."

It's apparently old enough that even Soldat gets it. And finds it close to funny.

"You'd probably get all the attention down there, anyway. Sit on the other side of the damn room from me, or something."

He chuckles, rolling his shoulders in a shrug, "If you say so."

Although really it's a good cover -- if Sam can get people's attention, get them to talk, Bucky can easily observe and listen from a distance. He's probably pretty good at people watching -- learning about a target wasn't just about obtaining files and being told about them.

"Works for me. So we heading back down now or was there more we needed to discuss -- this is as secure a place as any," he added the last part, a reference to Bucky's sweep.

"Which means not secure at all, really." Soldat is sure there are cameras in here, even if they've only ever found one, and that at the very beginning of all this, when they first arrived and basically tore their room apart in anger and anxiety. They've clearly gotten better at hiding them since then, and also Soldat hasn't torn the room apart again. North was very upset.

They do lean on the arm of the couch, though, and frown a little. "No one told me what happened to the people who disappeared. During the round before yours, when I was. Gone. For turning on my team. Probably because everyone was pissed at me." Understandably; Soldat has never had a great reputation, around here. "This many new people, that's to replace them, clearly, but. The why. See if you can hear anything?"

Sam knows and nods in acknowledgement. In a place like this with the people in control of the game and with what Bucky had shared with him about North there are bound to be ways of keeping tabs on them without them knowing. But they have to communicate somehow and this is as good as it's likely to get.

He considers the request, "Do you think they'll even know?" But even as he asks that, he adds, "I guess it couldn't hurt to try though -- ask around or just ease drop." He wasn't sure how that would necessarily come up, but maybe some of the other groups would be sharing information with the newer arrivals -- information he and Bucky didn't have.

"Someone might. Could have been an escape attempt, could have been a mission that went bad, could have been beds just were empty in the morning. Not likely to be a big secret. I'll be listening, too, but."

They hitch a shoulder regretfully in the direction of the stairs and the crowded saloon. They're not likely to last long down there before fleeing back upstairs or outside to the stables or something, even if anyone deigns to talk to them about it. Soldat is just kind of hoping they manage to talk to new people who don't already know them as 1) that uncommunicative sniper, or 2) that asshole who shot their whole team.

Big City Living (Midpoint Mingle)

meanwhile, meeting threads are still happening so gonna be vague

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