Poker
Kyle remembers Queenie through different terms as pieces of his memory come back. (Queenie/Kyle one-shot fluff)
There are many things Kyle doesn't remember from his past.
Try as he might, his past life before he became a freak of nature is a puzzle to him; bits and pieces flourish in his mind with no links, making him depend on his imagination to make educated guesses and still come up short.
It's irritating really; these memories come back at the worst of times with no logical explanation. He could be eating a roast beef sandwich then all of a sudden remember the time he did a little dance for his family for finally pooping in the toilet. Or he could be kissing Zoë then remember the time he vomited in the bathroom stalls after drinking too much wine at fourteen. The memories would always leave him agitated and he leaves to brood in the attic, trying to remember his life before the Coven.
It was one of those days he has another.
It was a hot and stuffy afternoon in the Academy; Zoë left to go fetch various herbs and plants for Cordelia while Cordelia went off to God knows where for peculiar reasons. It was just him and Queenie, who is busy rummaging through her purse for something.
It was strange being alone with Queenie; they're never alone together unless Zoë is there, clinging to his arm like a wary mother. What's awkward is that they almost never talk to each other. Queenie barely acknowledges his existence; he's titled 'The Servant Boy' and she goes about her day, forgetting he's there.
It bother's Kyle to no end.
"Want to play cards?"
Shuffle.
The loud slapping noise of card on top of card sends Kyle into another forgotten memory. A memory so strong it makes him buckle to his knees.
"You feel like playing poker tonight?" Kyle looks up to his friend Nathan, who is so inebriated it's a miracle he could even talk comprehensively. It was Halloween night, and they decided to celebrate the holidays by getting drunk and messing with the Trick or Treaters, and pissing in alleyways like it's a sport.
Kyle knows nothing about poker; the closest thing he got to understanding is the jargon. 'Poker Face', Full House, Royal Flush, Fold; those words swirl into Kyle's drunken mind and he giggles.
"Whatever, dude. I just want to party!" Kyle lifts his bottle of Jack Daniels, backwash sloshing in the glass. He yells a battle cry and runs through the streets of New Orleans like a madman, Nathan in tow. When he hauls into a random area of business, he's greeted with the strong stench of smoke and hard liquor.
Blues music is playing, five men are crouched around a pool table, eyes shielded by Ray Ban glasses and hard scowls. Many men sat on barstools, drinking alcohol and trying to hit on a few random women for the night.
Kyle notices none of that; he notices one crucial detail.
They are all black.
He is a speck of salt in a sea of pepper.
When they all looked at him, it was clear he didn't belong.
He's screwed.
Kyle swallows thickly; his mind is scrambling for ways to talk him out of this situation without getting his ass kicked but he finds none.
"I want to listen to the blues!" He blurts out finally, hoping they'd take the answer and leave him alone. As hoped, everyone went back to their activities, grumbling about Kyle under their breath. Kyle exhales sharply and meanders his way around the bar. While he's here and out of danger, it wouldn't hurt to get a feel of the place.
It's nicely furnished, with a jukebox and a brand spanking new pool table in the far corner.
A tad rusty on the pool, he gets to the pool table and tries to remember the rules.
"What brings you to a place like this?"
A smoky voice breaks him out of his reverie. He looks up and sees a girl, around his age, leaning against a wall and eyeing him.
She wore a simple party dress and heels that were color coded and complimented her dark chocolate skin. She has long black hair that curls at the tips and frames her heart shaped face. She's pretty, but there was something that threw Kyle off.
Her weight; she's fat.
"I don't talk to fat chicks," Kyle says. The woman's calm and sweet face morphed into disgust and before Kyle knew it a cold and bitter drink was splashed into his face.
"I don't talk to assholes," the fat girl replied, before storming off to who knows where. Kyle snorts and wipes the drink off his face with his shirt.
"Probably needs a Twinkie so she won't get her panties in a twist," he tells himself, before scouting for potential players for his improvised pool game. When he finds none, he takes it as his cue to leave. He exits the bar and spots Nathan across the street, getting thrown out by some mean looking thugs.
"Hey, that's my friend, asshole! What the fuck?" Kyle shouts. He pulls Nathan to his feet and glares at one of the thugs.
"He lost at poker. He didn't have anything else to bargain with. He already lost his shoes. When he tried to gamble some more we threw him out." The thug explained. Kyle looks at Nathan, who is sobbing uncontrollably.
"I lost my car keys to them. We have no way of getting home!" He cried. Kyle shakes his head. Leave it to Nathan to fuck up his Halloween night and leave him to clean up his mess. He inspected the thug's nametag: Brian.
"Okay, Brian," he begins.
"How about I play poker with you guys and win his stuff back?"
Brian laughs.
"From what I heard from Nathan here you can't play poker if your life depended on it. He's just talking shit or he's talking truth, it don't matter. Get in here and see if you measure up with the big boys."
Kyle looks to Nathan, mouths 'I hate you', and then enters the bar.