[open] darling i'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream

[fusshionable]

Who| Porrim and anyone in D5 or who happens to be around D5.
What| mingling in the D5 suites; addressing tribute concerns and getting to know her charges over tea.
Where| D5 suites
When| anytime between October 5th and now!
Warnings/Notes| probably none, aside from language! will update.



Soon after her initial introduction over the Network, and for the weeks following, Porrim finds herself situated at regular intervals in the District 5 lounge, a fresh tray of tea, pastries, sandwiches and assorted other delicacies spread across the table in front of her, and a handsome leather notebook poised in front of her, ready to take notes if necessary. She finds that these regular sessions--like open office hours in a university--are helpful to her Tributes. It's important for her to be accessible, especially when her district has the reputation that it does.

And, well, if she keeps a tiny silver flask nearby and occasionally slips a little something stronger into her tea, who can really blame her? The job of an Escort is a neverending headache, and the indomitable Miss Maryam is more than well-equipped to deal with the consequences. And true to her word, she's happy to socialize with anyone from another District who happens by; she'll never say no to new friends, to making new contacts and meeting new faces. After all, people are interesting. Especially when they come from such varied walks of life.

Comments

[fusshionable]

"Right, something like that." Porrim snorts. "It's a better choice for me, I think. Requires a hell of a lot less sewing on fiddly beads and sequins and rhinestones, anyway. I'm surprised I'm not arthritic already."

His question makes her smile, despite his momentary loss of volume control. "Well, that's a rather tricky question, isn't it? I'd hate to give away my hand so early in the game."

[carnagecarnival]

"Well, giving up hand would be one motherfucking way as to get down off from that arthritic business," He points out. "PASS UP TWO AND YOU BE FUCKING ARTHRITIC FREE."

He can't decide if as it gets easier the longer he talks to her or more difficult. On the one hand, she's smiling and laughing, which takes off the fanged edged of her reminding him of the Dolorosa.

On the other hand, he was never going to get this damn speech change on right, and she still sounded like the rainbowdrinker woman.

[fusshionable]

Porrim snorts. "I'm afraid giving up my hands literally would make it rather difficult to do much of anything," she replies. It's clear he's putting in a lot of effort with this speech therapy thing, which is why she doesn't chide him. But she is curious.

"How are your lessons coming along? I can tell there's some improvement already."

[carnagecarnival]

His face falls. She's thinking there's improvement but he's not sure what all that would be. He can't hear improvement. He certainly ain't feeling it none. But he has to wonder if pointing it out to her will just get him into more a motherfucking problem as what was being before.

His hesitation is obvious, as is the way he tries to melt back into the chair. "Ain't been skipping them or none. BEEN MAKING TRY UP AND ON BY MINE OWN," He says in compromise.

[fusshionable]

At the sight of him fading into his chair, Porrim lifts an eyebrow. It's clear that he's insecure about it, but she doesn't comment on it. Her voice is gentle, warm.

"I can tell, I promise. I'm sure it hasn't been easy."

[carnagecarnival]

"I ain't think it's being working," He blurts, fast enough it sounds like it's being one word. His eyes dart down. He explains, "IT'S VOODOO. I don't... I feel it motherfucking press. IT'S ALL MAKING PRESSURE UP AND ON. All pulling up out of me. FEEL LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING BLADE-EATER AS TRYING OTHERWAYS."

He reaches up, rubs at his neck, then sighs. "... I'll keep trying." He can't forget who's in charge here.