thecapitol | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who| Alpha and OPEN
What| Alpha's pissy and drinking.
Where| A bar, quiet and focused on drinking.
When| Post Arena, Pre-Lockdown
Warnings/Notes| Standard Alpha warnings, in particular homicidal thoughts, otherwise none so far.

There was a part of Alpha, a few parts actually, that were starting to suspect that the Games were all some big plot to humiliate him for all to see. It would explain a lot. He pondered this possibility darkly, along with the problem of Ballard, not to mention the problem of Howard.

And, as always, the ever-present issue of not being where he needed to be. These problems and more, since multi-tasking was a necessary skill of Alpha's, he considered while he sat at the bar in the first dive he could find where nobody would bother him for autograph's or what have you, nursing a tumbler and glaring moodily at the rows of bottles on the wall.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Atticus had set out to get a feel for the city. He realized he probably shouldn't have gone on his own, but he didn't want to ask anybody to hold his hand either, so he was out and wandering.

He did get stopped once or twice for autographs, and it had been kind of a fun, novel experience the first few times. Right up until some kid, couldn't have been older than twelve, said, "The way you just ripped its throat out!"

The novelty wore off very soon after that.

So he wandered further and further from the brighter, more populated areas of the city and eventually found himself in a dive bar. He made his way up to the bar and said to the guy behind the counter, "I don't suppose you've got, like, tequila?"

Alpha's all set to ignore the rest of the bar and preferably the world for the rest of the night, but the voice sounded familiar enough that he glanced over on reflex. It was dim in the room so it takes a second for recognition to register. He smirked, remembering his last encounter with that particular face, and he's all set to let the kid wander off with his drink before something else about the face registered.

He frowned and darted out a hand to grab the kid--Blaine, that was it--by the chin. The skin is smooth and clear--the damn Capitol has erased his gifts.

Smooth and clear, yes, but not quite like Blaine's. Mostly because it was marred by stubble, as Atticus' usually was. Other things which, on closer examination, might indicate this was not the boy he maimed, included his hair being longer and generally more crazily curly than the other boys, his eyes being a strange sort of amber rather than hazel, and the way he yanked himself out of Alpha's grip.

"Hey! Whoa! Stand down, buddy."

There are differences, Alpha noticed now, not that he got a terribly close look at Blaine thanks to the weather gear and Wyatt's interference. And he appeared older, which discounted the identical twin theory.

Interesting. "Your face," he started, then stopped, forcing a slur and wavering slightly. The balance was important, just drunk enough that the inappropriate touching was forgivable, not so drunk that conversation seemed pointless. "Your face," he repeated eventually. "Seen it before. But it looked different."

Atticus wasn't completely pacified, but he was willing to let it slide, at least.

"Oh, yeah. There's...a kid here. Blaine? He looks a lot like me."

Pretty close to identical, in fact. At least close enough that it really unnerved Atticus when he wasn't doped up on chocolates.

"Blaine! That's it. I had a little run in with him, left him with," Alpha waved a hand vaguely at Atticus' face. "A gift. Thought the Capitol had taken it away." Like Adelle and Victor, though then Alpha had been too terribly amused at the implications there to be too upset about it.

Atticus leaned back just a little at that gesture. "Oh, um...I see..."

Alpha peered at the other man. "You look like a man who would appreciate a gift. Especially when you've got some boy running around with your face. Not related at all, are you?"

"Nope. Never met him before."

He eyed Alpha warily over his glass. "Um...what kind of gift?"

"Interesting," he said, putting aside the identical strangers (of different ages, now that he looked closer, even) mystery to be examined when he had less alcohol in his system. "The generous kind, obviously. Unique, each and every time. It'll keep people from making the same mistake I just did, anyway." He drew a finger across his face, where he remembered the knife cutting through Blaine's skin.

Atticus slid back from the touch with a grimace. "Um...no thanks?"

Alpha grinned at him. "That wasn't an offer," he pointed out, refraining from also pointing out that it wasn't the sort of gift people had the chance to refuse. "Anyway, already did it to the other one, assuming they let him keep it."

"Right. Um...do you do that often?" Atticus said, shifting a bit closer to the counter.

"I'm a generous person," said Alpha, affecting a modest tone.

"Something you...picked up here?" Atticus said, sliding a finger along his nose like he's pushing up a pair of glasses he doesn't actually wear.

"My generosity?" asked Alpha. "No, I've had that since--"

There's a flood of different, pithy and genuine, answers crowding into the space behind his eyes and he's silent for a long minute, his teeth gritted to keep any of them from escaping. Maybe the alcohol was a bad idea, considering his current troubles.

"--Before," he finished finally. "Since before. Did they fix your eyes when they brought you over?" he asked, to turn the attention away from his momentary lapse in concentration.

"Fix my eyes?"

He shifts his gaze away, like that might hide the color of his eyes, which is what he assumes Alpha is talking about. "Um...what do you mean?"

Alpha copied Atticus' gesture, finger sliding up the bridge of his nose. "You wear glasses, but not right. Did the Capitol fix that little defect for you?" He ran over what he saw of Atticus in the Arena in his head. "Along with turning you into a some sort of attempt at a werewolf? Or was that an existing condition?"

"Oh, um..."

He was still getting used to not being able to keep that a secret, and he hadn't quite figured out yet how to handle it.

"Um...yeah. It's...they're sort of related."

"Sort of related," Alpha repeated, mockingly. "And what does that mean, exactly?"

"Just...like, I used to wear glasses, and then the wolf thing, and...yeah..." He trailed off lamely, hoping he'd given enough information for Alpha to work it out.

"And then the wolf thing," Alpha sneered. "Yes, 'wolf things' are known for their optometry. Not your favorite conversational topic, is it?"

"I don't have much to say about it," Atticus answered, somewhat snappishly.

"Really? Wolfish issues common where you're from?" Alpha wasn't sure even if he was truly curious about Atticus' 'condition' or was just enjoying needling the man. Both, probably.

"I wouldn't know," Atticus growls, glaring at Alpha. "Not like people walk around turning into wolves all the time even if they can."