thecapitol | [closed] when i walk in, sit up straight

Who| Porrim + Signless
What| Having a little get-to-know-you lunch date!
Where| The cutest little cafe in the Capitol
When| During Week 2 of the Arena
Warnings/Notes| None!

It's a couple of weeks until Signless's schedule allows for Porrim to sneak him off for their lunch date; his new status as a Mentor combined with his newfound popularity as the most recent Victor means that even someone with her status has to wait a bit. But Porrim's not fussed; she's happy to wait as long as she gets to actually sit down with Signless and get some one-on-one time.

When the appointed time and day rolls around, Porrim escorts him to her choice in restaurant herself. The place was picked with a rather tongue-in-cheek manner; it's a small cafe, violently pastel and frou-frou, full of canoodling couples. It's the last place you'd expect anyone to be meeting up with their alternate universe not-son.

They're led to their table, and Porrim is highly aware of and highly amused by the fact that she sticks out like a sore thumb, dressed all in black and gold. She perches primly in her chair and orders a cup of Earl Grey for starters.

"I hope you like pink," she tells Signless across the table. "Almost everything on the menu is some shade of it."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This conversation is fantastic, and Porrim is pretty much delighted that it's happening in such a ridiculous venue.

"Well, that does seem to be a major merit," she agrees. "And I'm sure it wouldn't look at all strange for an Escort to gallivant around with a chainsaw, hmm?"

He isn't sure if she's being sarcastic asking that or not -- but then, this is Panem. There's a woman not two tables away whose hair has been shaped into an elaborate birdcage inside which sits a live brightly-colored parrot in a tiny hat. He chooses to assume she's being dead serious.

"Probably not. I'm certain that with the right outfit it would make a fitting accessory, even. Something with torn metal and artificial tarnish."

Porrim snorts. For all that she's a Capitolite, she tends to err on the more...tasteful side of things. Her personal style is much sleeker and cooler than the norm.

"Now that's what I call sexy," she comments, leaning back in her chair. "Or, wait, wait, I can do better than that." Porrim clears her throat. "That's what I call a killer ensemble."

"Oh," he says, and makes an utterly unpretty chortling sound into his cup. He decides here and now that he likes this Porrim. She isn't his mother and she isn't even exactly the Porrim from his memories of his Beforus but she has that same comfortable easy-to-talk-to quality that they both had.

"You have to actually design it now, you know, just so you can wear it out and make that pun every time anyone compliments it."

Porrim can't help but snort in laughter, cracking up a little at her own stupid joke. She needs this; she needs to relax and joke and talk about something that isn't a hundred percent serious.

"Oh, of course I will," she chortles. "I'll be sure to drop by Twelve and give you a little fashion show, too."

Signless quite agrees. Even in the midst of the murder games and the political intrigue there has to be time for real, honest laughter. That's what makes all the rest of it bearable.

"Oh, please. But only if you design me something to match. Pity I'm in Twelve or you could dress me up as a tree and we'd be a perfect pair."

Porrim laughs into her fingers, shoulders shaking and her eyes squeezing shut in genuine amusement.

"Wouldn't we be a sight for sore eyes," she giggles. "Still, I promise I'll design you something equally fabulous. With leggings involved."

"Thank you. I haven't had to argue for the leggings in quite a while, but my stylists still don't go out of their way to incorporate them into my outfits. I feel like I ought to have a say in at least that. It's something unique and recognizable -- not to mention comfortable. I don't know where the reluctance to let me wear them comes from."

He has a vague idea that it has to do with them being considered something women wear... or maybe they're just unfashionable no matter who they're on. Which is stupid. Leggings are great.

Porrim snorts. "Some Stylists are not quite as flexible as they ought to be, really. Something I learned during my tenure in Eleven was that sticking a Tribute in something uncomfortable and unwieldy isn't going to make them look any better. It just makes them look uncomfortable."

She shakes her head. "That aside, you look fabulous in them. It's a crime to keep you from wearing them, really."

"The rest of the Stylists in this tower could use to learn from you, then. Every time there's a public function half the tributes look awkward and unhappy and not much else."

Seriously. Every crowning, to say nothing of the various and sundry parties, he sees more tributes looking like they wish they could burn their clothes than ones that look elegant and inspired.

"I think it was all the walking I did before I came here. I wouldn't have the legs for them otherwise."

Porrim finds herself wishing suddenly that she'd stayed on as a Stylist--long enough to help make some changes around the Tower. Still, there were a lot of factors that led to her change in position, and not seeing her love for fashion transform into a chore was certainly one of them. "Maybe I'll set forth a few suggestions," she agrees nonetheless, because it's sort of ridiculous how much these Stylists don't even consider the affect their inflictions have on their Tributes.

"Makes sense," she goes on. "You're lucky. Not everyone is blessed with toned limbs."

"I'm sure at least within your district you could make a difference," he says in what he hopes is an encouraging tone. "And if they take, other districts might adopt them as well. We all want to be performing at peak capacity where we can."

And he means performing in every sense of the word. They all apply in Panem.

"That's true," she murmurs thoughtfully. "All it takes, really, is a spark."

And that's a rather interesting idea, one that definitely carries over into other aspects of her life. "I'll have to see what I can do."

"If you're anything like the other Maryams I've known, you won't have any trouble."

He finishes off his tea, allowing the last of the warmth to settle in him. This has been such a nice distraction from all of the stress he's been dealing with as of late, and he's going to enjoy that for the absolute longest he can.

That seems to amuse her, but there's also a faint glow of pride behind Porrim's smug expression as she settles back into her chair, popping a macaron into her mouth and finishing off her own cup of tea to wash it down. "Lovely," is her simple reply.

She's feeling much the same. A good distraction indeed, and a good start to what she hopes will be a good friendship. She ought to have tea more often.

[closed] when i walk in, sit up straight

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fffff dat icon

there were others that were probably more fitting but i like that one best

i approve very heartily

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we can probably fade this soon unless there's anything else you wanted?

fine by me!!