thecapitol | open;

WHO| Kurt Wallander and OPEN
WHAT| Kurt decides he needs to get to know the Tributes a little more personally
WHEN| Now up until the crowning! Feel free to tag in super late, he'll still be around
WHERE| Common room of the tribute to
WARNINGS| None so far, will update if necessary

Kurt Wallander sighed meaningfully over his paperwork. He looked, as usual, like he hadn't slept in days, and the outfit he wore was utilitarian and rumpled. Those who had been to District 2 might recognize the style as being much more to their taste to the Capitol's, but he managed to make it look particularly disheveled anyway. There had been no murders lately, luckily, so he'd been able to focus all his attention on the rebellion, which as always managed to make him incredibly depressed. He didn't want to believe that the rebellion was trying to tap into the tributes, but the fact remained that whoever this hacker was, he was deliberately trying to turn the tributes into terrorists.

He'd managed to keep himself at arms length with them so far, but that was going to be impossible now. He'd have to talk to them, get to know them, figure out just how deeply this dangerous sentiment ran...

He sighed again, just as meaningfully, as he stood from his desk and rubbed his eyes. Interviews. Nothing formal, nothing mandatory, but he needed a more personal insight into the tribute system to understand where the weakness might be, where the motivations lay.

So he trudged out into the light rain, without an umbrella, to make his way over to the tribute center. The peacekeepers didn't give him any grief - they all recognized him as a superior officer, despite the wrinkles and baggy eyes, and he made his way to the common room. He didn't have to pretend to look awkward, he managed that pretty naturally, and he certainly didn't look like a peacekeeper as he wandered up to tributes and introduced himself.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

By this point, random people coming up and introducing themselves had become old hat, though the gushing over his emotion-fueled homicide-suicide in the arena still made him nauseated and uncomfortable. Still, as Jessica urged him, he used it as a opportunity to practice 'working the sponsors' as it were and has gotten decent enough at it that when the disheveled and tired looking gentleman approaches him there's not even a grimace behind his cordial smile.

"Good afternoon."

"Afternoon," Wallander says, smiling, trying not to stare at the strangely blank eyes.

"Kurt Wallander," He says, gesturing to himself. "You are -- Albert, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Heinrich. Yes."

On closer inspection, he doubts this man is a sponsor. He's too unkempt and not in that fashionably messy way that some in the Capitol seem to prefer. Which means he's here with some other motive and while that leaves Albert somewhat suspicious, his geniality doesn't falter. "Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Wallander?"

Wallander is all too used to suspicion in his direction - so much so that it doesn't even phase him.

"Ah, yes, actually, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions. About how you're fitting in, and so on."

At least Albert keeps his suspiciousness under wraps, well kept under his outward mask of civility. "Certainly."

The German motions to a nearby table for them to sit. Honestly he's surprised this hasn't happened before now. On Moc'awa, the counselors and such were eager to speak with the subjects about their day to day. Here he'd only been asked about the arena by fans, when he allows himself to be in that position. Honestly he's prepared for more of the same from Wallander but he's ready for anything.

Kurt nods graciously as he took the offered seat, clasping his hands on his knees and waiting patiently until Albert was seated as well.

"No trouble so far?" He asked warmly. "Outside of the arena, I mean. No squabbles with other tributes, capitol citizens...?"

"There is the understandable level of discomfort, but nothing worse." He folds his hands neatly in his own lap and says nothing else until asked another question. As he doesn't know this man's goals, he can't judge if anything he says will be taken in a negative light, though he's had a few warnings of things that displease the Capitol to speak on.

"Well, of course, any group of strangers living together is going to experience some discomfort," Kurt admitted with a nod. "As long as you're aware that there are ways to deal with anything that gets too out of line."

He doesn't quite go so far as to say that Albert's safety is important to the Capitol. It's important to him, but he certainly isn't the overarching voice in the government - or even a small one. He'll keep that to himself.

"Any issues with the technological differences? Anything that you don't understand, or had questions about...?"

"No, it's all very cut and dry."

He'd cited 'a group of strangers living together' as the reason for discomfort, not 'a group of strangers brought here against their will meant to kill each other and then live together after'. That says a lot, to Albert's mind. He leans back in his chair a little and thinks about if he has anything to ask. Or rather, anything he can ask without sounding half as angry as he is.

And he is. Enraged at the whole thing, in fact, but it's impotent and so he buries it deep.

"I do have to wonder, Herr Wallander, what you think of us." He shrugs easily, friendly even. "I find it difficult to put myself in an insider's shoes."

"What I think of you?" Kurt asked, surprised.

"Well I-- I'm very thankful, obviously. If it wasn't for all of you, we would still be making tributes from the Districts. Your efforts mean that a 23 young people every year can stay at home and make full lives for themselves. It means the world to me."

"I see." And he does, ostensibly. On the surface it seems as if they do a great service for this world, dying again and again, but the problem lies in why it's necessary in the first place.

"And you see no problem in how we were not asked to repeatedly lay down our lives for this?" That isn't how he should have phrased it and he knows it. Still, he can't imagine he's the only tribute this man has talked to that harbors resentments. He keeps his expression carefully blank and dispassionate.

He offered a sad, sympathetic smile, and took too long to answer. He couldn't say how he actually felt, of course, even though he understood.

"I think you overestimate my position if you think my opinion would make any difference one way or the other," He said eventually, gently.

"I would like to hear it all the same, sir," he responds just as gently, a little compassion showing behind his expressionless mask. He doubts he'll get a straight answer even with his second time asking. It's dawned on Albert that Wallander may be just as much a victim of the fascist regime as he is.

"My opinion is that sometimes peace comes at a cost," He said carefully.

"I'm sorry that you are made to bear it, but I'm grateful anyway."

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