thecapitol | Heaven's Night

Entry tags:

Heaven's Night

Who| Phil, Julian, and dear ol' Johnny Walker
What| Drinking and ~~culture clash~~ D6 possible camaraderie
Where| Central Commons Bar
When| January 11
Warnings/Notes| Alcohol Consumption and discussing the previous Arena

Phillip wasn't kidding when he invited Julian to take a few drinks with him and getting to know someone from his own District, or at least claimed ownership of the whole damn floor. His body was sore from having practiced his techniques with Sandy, clearly unused to actually fighting off his attackers. He felt...powerful, in control even. Maybe he could finally do something...That feeling went away as soon as he saw his bare arms and the scars of previous near-death experiences were visible. Phil took one look at them and sighed, "Nothing's changed, Gray."

Putting up a smile just like a tie and a nice sport jacket, Phil suppressed all those bad memories as best as he could and walked over to Julian's room. "Up and at them," he called over to this night's partner in crime. "Last time I talked to someone, it was through an answering machine, okay? I'm a little rusty but I know we don't wanna be fashionably late." Julian would be greeted by this dork of a man. The former guard figured if Julian was rich, he'd know what drinks were best.

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Julian hadn’t been sure Phillip was actually going to go through with the drink plans. So while he’d gotten a jacket out of his closet, he hasn’t actually bothered to put it on yet. When he hears Phil outside his door he shrugs it on sluggishly, used to having people wait for him without protest. “Hold on,” Julian calls and as an afterthought adds, “Being fashionably late is fine. That’s why it’s fashionable.” It doesn’t take long for Julian to open the door, though, and when he does he sighs, despite the fact that Julian also looks faintly amused, at what greets him.

“Can’t believe I got stuck with you as a roommate,” Julian grumbles, but it’s half-hearted and has no bite to it. He closes the door behind him and starts making his way over to the elevator. “I don’t think using an answering machine even counts as talking to someone. They can’t talk back.”

"What if they call back? That counts," Phil was being obtuse on purpose, though he once did count it when he was that desperate for human contact and not being held hostage in his work place. The jab was received with a laugh while he dialed the down arrow button.

"Eh, I'm not such a horrible roommate. I don't sing in the showers or, you know, screw around and raise hell. I'm a pretty decent guy!" Phil joked, "Though your little diva act might've rubbed off the other District Tributes the wrong way." Oh he hoped that was just him exaggerating. Even The Real World New York wasn't that desperate for reality-show conflicts.

"Used to getting your way?"

“Only if you answer,” Julian’s looking at Phil like he turned into a small child, but there’s still a hint of amusement in the tone of his voice.

“If you say so. I suppose you could be worse,” Julian says, ignoring the fact that he himself takes two hour showers, eats everyone’s food, and is probably one of the worst roommates in history, “The issue is more that I have to share at all.” Julian sounds resigned, as it appears that issue will not be going away anytime soon.

“It wasn’t a diva act.” No, unfortunately for Phil, Julian had not been exaggerating at all. “It was a simple demand, and it’s not my fault if other people can’t understand that and want to throw a fit about it.” The elevator dings as it gets to the floor, and Julian steps out when the doors open and starts heading for the bar.

He holds himself a bit taller at the question, looking proud of himself. “Yes, I am, as it should be. Bradds should never be left wanting for anything.”

"Semantics, still human contact," Gray started to relax though he does add with a hint of candor, "And for the record, the worst roommate would be the one that leaves a mess, eats the food and coffee, steals the roomie's partner, and leaves the toilet seat up. Those have a special place in hell."

That was oddly specific of Phil as he spoke and followed Julian to the bar, "That wasn't throwing a fit, that was making sure you knew what you were in for and everyone has to share like the adults 70% of us are. It's weird but I've never heard of your family."

When he finds a seat, he smiles delighted at the selection, "If this place has whiskey, I'm good for the rest of the night. What about you, a fine red wine for a Bradd?"

Of course he was playing but he wondered what kind of booze the other half drank.

Well, at least Julian only does some of those. Julian doesn’t really acknowledge they’re bad when he does them, though. But he does notice the specificness and raises an eyebrow, “That’s a long list.”

“Most of the adults I knew didn’t have to share,” he sits down with a huff, looking annoyed, but his expression changes at the mention of his family, and his tone turns boastful, “That’s because we’re all from different worlds here. If you had been from my world, you would have definitely heard of my family.”

“Not all wealthy people drink wine. My dad liked whiskey too,” he pauses and then admits, “But, yes, I prefer wine. Red or white is acceptable.” He scans the choices, looking for names he might recognize from back home.

"Let's just leave it at past experiences and I don't like to be vindictive, but I'm glad he got herpes," Gray chuckled and swirled his glass. The strong taste brought back a lot of memories, not just of college but fooling around on his rare days off. Oh yes, this was a good one, and he asked the bartender to, "Give him the best you got, he had a rough day."

Phil turned around to face Julian, as he asked, "So what did your family make their millions on? Real estate? Oil? Technology? You really don't look like you fought in the Arena, but I've been surprised."

“My dad’s main business was a security system company, but he also owned a hotel, mall, golf courses, and a lot of other things. He liked to have wide horizons.” He sounds proud talking about his dad, and when he takes a sip of the drink he’s brought there’s a small smile on his face. Julian’s always spent more time talking about his dad than he did actually spending time with him, but that doesn’t sway the small bit of happiness it brings.

A frown quickly takes the place of the smile at the mention of the Arena, though. “What’s that supposed to mean? What am I supposed to look like?”

"Relax, Julian, I meant in the sense that you're still new to it," Phil clarified before returning to the subject of his partner's father, "Your dad had a lot of ventures on his end, what about you? Did you have your own company before being reaped?"

That smile told a lot to the night guard about Julian: maybe the young man admired his father a lot, emulating his successes. It was kinda cute considering the massive tantrum earlier. "Taught you to state your claim, probably." The drink came down bitter at the thought of having to destroy all that in the Arena.

“That doesn’t really make a difference. I’ll still be the same even when I’m not new to it,” Julian tries to sound firm when he says it, but it’s still only a lie that Julian is telling himself, and even he’s not sure he believes it. He looks down at his drink, takes another sip, and is glad for the distraction talking more about his father provides.

“No, my dad was going to give me one, but he thought it was best to wait until I was a little older. Before I was brought here I just worked at one of the companies he owned.” Worked as in watched youtube videos and took naps all day, but no one had ever seemed to expect too much of Julian, so he never saw any reason to do otherwise.

“Yes, he did. If you don’t, then you won’t get anything in life. My dad had a lot of great advice,” Julian’s back to bragging, and the small smile has returned to his face, “Like how everything has a price tag.” It doesn’t really apply here, but back home Julian always thought they were great words to remember.

"Oh really? Well shoot, I pegged you as one of those preppy trust fund kids," Phil laughed, actually believing Julian had worked an honest day's work, "I stand corrected." If there was a fatal flaw to Gray is was that he could be a terrible judge of character and believed the best in people before hearing bad news. That's what bit him in the ass before.

"Does that saying include human lives? Huh..." he pondered that for a moment before tipping his glass for the bartender for a refill.

“But I do have a trust fund.” Julian’s doesn’t get why Phil’s laughing, and his brows furrow in confusion. He comes to the conclusion that Phil must be laughing at him and he huffs, annoyed, as he finishes off the rest of his drink. “You’re just jealous because you didn’t have one. What did you even do, anyway?”

“It does if you’re a hitman or something like that. My dad wasn’t into that line of work, though. He had better taste.” Julian knows people get paid to kill people here in the Arena too, and his nose wrinkles in distaste as he adds, “Unlike this unrefined place.”

"Of course I didn't have a trust fund! I was a security guard at a family pizzeria," a pause, "That sounded a lot less pathetic in my head." And down the drink went because Phil realized just how bad his life sucked before this moment. And that's without telling Julian about the killer robots.

"I wasn't laughing at you, Julian, I was happy for you to have a job at your dad's company," he clarified, "I thought it was great. You had a nice, secure job and you were safe."

“... Why does pizza need guarding?” Julian asks as he gets another drink. “It’s not that pathetic, though. Not everyone can be rich.” That’s Julian’s idea of being comforting.

Julian pauses, a little taken aback by the clarification. Other than basically the one friend he had and his dad, people weren’t normally happy for him. “Well… good. I don’t like it when people laugh at me. Even if they only do it because they’re jealous of all the great things I have.”

"It's not the pizza I'm guarding, it's the families and the animatronics," Gray explained, rubbing his eyes for a moment, to will away bad memories of the place, "It's supposed to be a happy place for family enjoyment, you know, like a poor man's Disney. "

The pause makes him smile, "Sounds like you don't have a lot of well wishes back home, huh?" Phil genuinely wished the best in people. "No sweethearts to swoon you over?"

“I didn’t know pizza places were even allowed to have animatronics. Is that really a normal thing poor people do for fun? Sounds kind of odd to me.”

“I have plenty of well wishes back home! I was very popular,” Julian protests, and even if it’s a lie, it’s still a lie he likes to believe. “No, I didn’t have any… sweathearts, but lots of people swooned over me.”

"Oh yeah! Well, Fazbear Entertainment has a few people working for them and it let the kids have a great time! They sang and played along. It was a great draw for people from all over," Even after five years of systematic survival and murder investigations, Phil still talked about the place with genuine love.

"Betcha you got Capitolites' hearts now. You're good looking! And you turn into a cat!"

“Played? Aren’t animatronics just for looking at?” Julian sounds confused, not really understanding where all Phil’s affection for the place could possibly come from. The whole thing still sounds weird to Julian.

“I don’t really care about the Capitolites,” Julian says, bitterness in his voice. He was dragged here, forced to compete in some horrible Arena, just for the entertainment of the people of the Capitol. It doesn’t make Julian want to regard them very favorably. Julian does, however, like receiving compliments, and the good looking comment removes some of the bitterness in his tone when he speaks next, “But, yes, it would be hard for me not to win their hearts with these looks. Most people do love cats, too. As they should.”

"Not Freddy and the Fazbear Gang. They were mascots and whoever built them, Cawthon was it, he wanted kids to have fun at an affordable price," Phil explained a little better, "Hope that guy's banking for his hard work."

At the hint of bitterness, the guard sighed for a bit and stared at his drink, "You have potential, Julian...I really hope you find a way to get out of being a Tribute. You're not meant to be killing someone else. You should be up there, with all the people who are probably made of money, instead of here with a wreck of a man like, um, me." There wasn't any taunting left in Phil's voice as he spoke.

“That’s certainly never something I would do as a kid,” Julian says, though a part of him thinks he might have liked it if he meant he actually got to go somewhere with his family, “But as long as the kids were happy, I guess it must have been a good enough place.”

“I’m not going to kill anyone. They can shove me in that Arena, but they can’t force me to kill someone.” For now, at least. Julian hopes it stays that way. He does agree with most of what Phil is saying, though, but the wreck part makes him frown a little, “You’re not… that bad. There’s a lot of tributes that are worse than you.” Julian really has little idea of how to reassure someone, so the words come out hesitant and he quickly goes back to taking sips of his drink.

"If you really mean that, then I was right about you," Gray smiled brighter, "You're a good man. Not like that Mott guy, you have your heart in the right place. Money or not."

With that, he took his last drink and stood up, "C'mon, is there a dance club around here or something? We should grab someone and cut a rug." Oh dear God, he's buzzed enough to think that's a good idea.

“... Good? Uh… Of course I am. Why would you even doubt that.” He looks startled for a moment, despite his words. While Julian generally likes any sort of praise, hearing he’s a good man is something new. No one’s ever really said that to him before, and while on the surface Julian will brag about himself for days, deep down he doesn’t really believe he’s a good person. The startled look is gone quickly though, replaced by another smug look as he says, “Mott? You mean Dandy? Yes, he’s the farthest thing from good. Everyone is better than him.”

“I’m sure there is one but it’s probably full of Capitol people.” Julian’s looking at Phil like he’s lost all sense of good judgment. Even taking the Capitol people aside, Julian’s never really liked clubs. They were too loud for his sensitive hearing, and there were always too many overwhelming scents. Now that his senses are within human realms though, Julian supposes that’s not much of a concern. “Cut a rug? Who actually uses that saying anymore?” Apparently Phil, and it makes Julian laugh a little even if he’s still looking at Phil like he’s crazy.

"He seems like a man lost and without purpose. I mean, the happiest things for him are either model trains or the Capitol, sounds like a shallow life," Phil added with a hint of pity towards Dandy. "I mean there's crying and then, there's that performance. Have you fought with him before?"

At that swipe, the guard laughed, "I do! C'mon, you can't tell me you haven't enjoyed old movies and not picked up some phrases along the way." Sometimes Phil could be a ball of cheerful snark and this was one of those times. Probably all the whiskey he drank. "Have you ever just take a load of and act your age?" Having lost half a decade, the man was behind on the times. "Or would you rather grab a bottle to go and sit on a balcony and wax philosophical?" At least Julian could count on him as his friend on and off the Arena.

“He seems like an idiot, that’s what he seems like,” Julian says, not willing to give any sort of pity towards Dandy, “... Performance? What performance? No, I haven’t fought with him. I didn’t even see him in the Arena.”

“I do so act my age!” It probably doesn’t hold much weight when the protest comes out sounding as whiney as it does. “There are just certain expectations you have to uphold when you’re as wealthy as I am.” There weren’t very many, in Julian’s case, but he had still avoided doing things he thought might disappoint his father. He sighs, finishes off his drink, and says, “I would rather do neither.” But despite his words, and even though he’s still looking at Phil like he’s lost all proper judgment, Julian still stands up.

Gray kept his grin and sidestepped at this small accusation, "Then what do you wanna do? The night's still young and we're just getting buzzed. You need to relax...you're in good company."

At least, the guard thought he was. Was he trying too hard to be welcoming? "Did I overstep myself?" Phil rubbed his eyes for a second. "You can tell me if you think so."

Edited 2015-01-28 03:55 (UTC)

“I’m plenty relaxed,” he grumbles, and while it’s true in comparison to how tense he usually is, the set of his shoulders is enough to completely disprove that statement. “How drunk are you planning on getting?” He asks, some amusement coming back into his expression, and after a pause he shrugs. “The balcony idea was all right. Let’s just go to the rooftop instead.”

“No, you’re… okay…” Plenty of people had been civil to him back home, but there hadn’t been very many people that were quite so friendly. It’s not unwelcomed, but Julian’s still unused to it, and it leaves him unsure of how to handle it. He’s not going to admit to that though, so he just waves a hand. “I’ll let you know if you’re being annoying.”

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