Garvin Pyxis-Chip Nami

*~*~*~*

“‘Yer too kind.”

--

Garvin shrugged, taking Argo Navis back from her carefully, tracing his fingers along the name carved in the neck as he did and watching Sai turn back to Walt and start to throw hay over him. “Maybe, but Minor’s from Mer’dian. Wha’ ain’t too bad an idea to us might be, well, horse shit to him.”

--

“I’m not heartless.”

--

He bit back a laugh at the makeshift blanket with the words, and smiled in the most unassuming way he possibly could. “‘Course yer not, you’se a big softie.” He paused, hummed to himself, and continued, “Y’know, minus the big an’ all.”

--

Banter was nice. As much as he could handle silence, banter like this was so much better. It felt lighter, easier. He didn’t dwell on it too much, leading them out of the stables and back into the sunlight. It honestly hurt his eyes, Meridian had always been like that though. It had always managed to be too bright for him, even when he’d stayed in the area for months on end. It had always managed to surprise him with its light. He could understand why Leo would think it’d be a good place to retire.

--

“Dunno what I’d want with a hand.”

--

Garvin gave her a small laugh at that. Just because it seemed like a fair thing to say in reply to him. Most people wouldn’t know what to even do with a disembodied hand. He counted himself lucky he hadn’t figured out.

--

“No. Well, I figure you must’ve won that bet. So, where’s the hand? Don’t tell me you bailed on your word.”

--

He had to keep himself from laughing at that, stifling it and clearing his throat instead. “Of course I didn’t bail on my word, as if I would ever do that. I got what I’d won, but I didn’t win a hand.” He smirked, pausing mostly just for the sake of adding drama. Collecting his thoughts to actually tell the story was just an added bonus.

--

“Let’s see… This was jus’ a little after I’d gotten Nav ‘ere.” He gestured with the banjo, and took a breath. “I hadn’t had it on me at the time, prob’bly fer the best. Either way though, I’d been workin’ at this guy’s shop up in, uh, Ante, actually. He fixed some shit or other fer the rich fuckers up there. Which is only real ‘portant to this story ‘cause one time when a group came in, they like, insisted on bein’ there the whole time while he fixed whateva it was.”

--

That whole day had been a mess, if he was being honest, but Phoenix didn’t need to know about any of the other things that happened. Really, the bet was just about the one part of that day he figured would be fine to tell the story of. “Now, usually, I’d jus’ be keepin’ stock, helpin’ out wit fixin’ shit if the guy figured I wouldn’t jus’ break it more an’ all tha’ type’a shit. That day though, I didn’t ‘ave all tha’ much to do, so I ended up noticin’ when they all started doin’ a card game while waitin’ fer the guy to be done. So, of course, I went to go an’ talk to ‘em.”

--

Garvin grinned, watching the shorter and shifting how he was leaning on the wooden post before continuing. “Now, when they invited me to play a round of cards wit ‘em, I figured there’s was prob’bly somethin’ goin’ on. Y’know, given they’d been bettin’ ‘mounts of money I didn’t even know existed an’ all. But, well, I’d played cards ‘fore, an’ I figured I’d played ‘em ‘nough times ‘fore an’ all to at least get somethin’ outta it.” He smirked, taking a breath. “Now, I mean, did I lie to ‘em an’ say I had shit to bet with?”

--

It’d probably been the dumbest move he’d made that day, but it’d worked out in the end. So he was not about to complain. He shrugged, and shook his hand in a kind of motion. “Depends on ‘ow ya look at it. They asked if I had Sanguine, an’ I mean, ‘course they meant if I had ‘nough to keep up wit all’a ‘em. But they didn’t ask that. So I told ‘em tha’ I did, with all’a one Sanguine in my pocket tha’ I’d gotten in my off time through… Less ideal means, to say the least.” He paused, bit at his lip and shifted his head with a hum, a half smile playing at his features. “From the guy I was workin’ fer at tha’ time. But, uh, tha’ bit ain’t too big of a deal fer this story.”

--

He took a breath, gesturing with his hand. “But, either way, I started playin’ wit ‘em. To, well, prob’bly no one’s surprise… My luck took a good little while to kick in an’ I ended up losin’ the first round I played wit ‘em. Which, uh, y’know, not a good idea.” He grinned, and almost thought to laugh as he went through it in his mind. “Oh, they were fuckin’ pissed ‘bout that, honestly. Couldn’t believe I’d lied or some shit. Which is funny as all hell but, y’know. They’d started talkin’ ‘bout takin’ a finger as payment instead so, as one does, I’d gave ‘em the idea of a… Double or nothin’ kinda deal. We’d do ‘nother round an’ if I lost then they’d jus’ get a whole fuckin’ hand, an’ if I won then I’d, uh, y’know, get the winning’s of the last round. Lucky fer me, they were willin’ to take tha’ bet.”

--

Garvin did give a small laugh as he paused again, she already knew that he’d ended up winning. The pause made sense though, given that the ending was probably why he’d never told the story before. He continued anyway, it was way too late not to. “‘Course, as ‘m sure you could guess I won that round. Now they weren’t ver’ happy ‘bout tha’ either.” He took a breath, a quick sigh. “Which meant I never actually got the winnin’s from the round ‘fore tha’ one. Which while that is jus’ a dick move of ‘em, they did give me somethin’ else, so I can’t really complain too much ‘bout it.”

“You’se a big softie. Y’know, minus the big an’ all.”

Sylas rolled her eyes at him. Garvin always had to have the last word and sometimes Sylas let him. This was one of those few times, mainly because she had a sneaking suspicion the conversation would devolve into a competition of endurance between ‘yes you are’ and ‘no I’m not.’

. . .

“Of course I didn’t bail on my word, as if I would ever do that. I got what I’d won, but I didn’t win a hand.”

She knew, of course, that Garvin was a man of his word. There wasn’t much in this world that could be relied on. Strangely enough, a good portion of the kids from Post grew up to be people of their word. It must’ve had something to do with how they had nothing growing up, or close enough to it, so there was a weight to what one said that they valued. Well, when you only had word of mouth, it’d better have some merit.

“I’d been workin’ at this guy’s shop up in, uh, Ante, actually.”

Stories about Ante always fascinated Sylas. The ones from Ante always did a good job painting the Northern part of the world as a fantasy wonderland. Then, you had people like Garvin coming in to ruin that picture-perfect image by describing them as selfish snobs with sticks up their asses. It made you wonder how much of what you hear about Ante was actually the truth.

Garvin never told Sylas much about his time up in Ante. Unlike Sylas, he explored a vast majority of Kadath. Sylas’ world was small and consisted primarily of Post. It was where the people and money flowed so, naturally, she was drawn to the current and never bothered deviating from it.

Truth be told, Sylas had never been to Ante so her prejudice of them was born purely through stories.

“I never actually got the winnin’s from the round ‘fore tha’ one. Which while that is jus’ a dick move of ‘em, they did give me somethin’ else, so I can’t really complain too much ‘bout it.”

Sylas let out a sharp laugh when Garvin trailed off, “Hah! Always knew you can’t trust ‘em up North. They always think they’re better or cut from a different cloth. But we’re all in the same shithole ain’t we now?” At least in Post, they stabbed each other in the front. Turns out that if you dress the ones in Ante up in pretty fabrics, they’re still ugly inside. No posh dress could fix their vulgar personalities.