Interviews! [closed]

[a_minute_younger]

WHO| Gary Epps and his interviewers (Albert Wesker, China Sorrows, Sigma Klim, and Jane Shepard)
WHAT| Gary petitions for citizenship, is interviewed by people who may or may not have the best opinion of him for the process. This should be fun!
WHEN| The weekend before the Arena 14 Crowning
WHERE| About!
WARNINGS| Discussion of various deathgames things, maybe

It figures, Gary realizes, that there would be more hoops to jump through after he finally got up the nerve to fill out those forms for naturalization. Never mind that the forms themselves were nigh painless and this next step is hardly extensive enough to constitute a significant 'hoop,' it's still bureaucracy, that nebulous concept that Gary is vaguely aware of and wants nothing to do with. Or something like that. There are signatures and meetings involved, it makes him anxious.

To that end, Gary tries to make this whole interviewing process as natural for him as possible. Because he really shouldn't be worried, should he? He's done plenty of interviews before, stood in front of hundreds of people flocked to his spontaneous roadside concerts, entertained incoherently excited fangirls while he gave autographs...selling to four schmucks how great he is really should not be an issue for him. This is what he keeps telling himself. He doesn't need to dress up or prepare; Gary sets out on the weekend after he gets his interview notice for a casual walk around the Capitol. Not a mission. A walk. Or a jog, maybe, it really depends on his mood. He takes the stairs from the District 11 suites and lingers around the main Training Center, pokes his head into many of the common Tribute haunts around the downtown area, makes a casual pass at Sigma's residence. If he runs into someone on his list, then that's when they'll have the interview. No questions. Immediately Gary flags them down with a wave (or introduces himself with a wave, if he's forced to knock on some doors) and a pleasant, chipper greeting.

"Hey! I need to talk to you for a thing?"

They...they got memos too, right? Probably. Gary's just not going to worry about that.

Comments

[president_evil]

As he had been told to expect this, Wesker's door stood uncharacteristically open when Gary arrived. He'd have preferred a firm schedule, but he knew how to pick his battles, and this one wasn't worth it.

Seated in his dragon throne, he worked at his desk. Gesturing with his free hand, he pointed to a chair in front of him, and said, "Come in."

He didn't even look up.

[a_minute_younger]

For having lived in the suites with Wesker as long as he's been in the Capitol, there's a lot about this guy that Gary doesn't know. He's figured out a couple of things, though:

1) He works best in the background, since otherwise the public might be offended by that huge stick up his ass, and

2) It's probably not a good idea to mention either of those things to his face. Not because he's a Mentor or even too snooty to take a joke, but because, as that dragon throne suggests, he could probably kick Gary's ass one-handed and no one would be surprised.

So, yes, there's no denying that Wesker is intimidating as hell, and Gary isn't oblivious enough to approach him in his office without keeping a wary eye on the fastest way to leave it, but he's always willing to look for the bright sides of things. Wesker will want to make this quick, he reasons. He probably wants it over with so he can get back to doing more important Mentor shit. Or like, doodling on his paperwork or whatever the hell he does in here all day. The thought has crossed Gary's mind more than once.

He creeps inside with slow, deliberate steps, hands stuck behind his back so Wesker doesn't see him anxiously threading his fingers. "Hey! So uh," Gary's eyes roll to the ceiling to search for inspiration while he rocks on the balls of his feet. "You got the memo?"

[president_evil]

There was a part of him, an even more reptilian hind-brain fed by the virus, that noted the prey-like approach - an antelope from the plains of Africa easing up to the water's edge - and was pleased. The man, however, merely wished he'd get on with it.

Even if he cared about Gary enough to be interested in ending him, he wouldn't do it here.

"I did, yes." He finished his current thought in his notebook - neat, precise handwriting, a slim, shining silver pen - and looked up at Gary. "I assume you're ready to begin."

[a_minute_younger]

This is about as good of a response as Gary could have hoped for. His mouth twitches into a smile, one of relief rather than enjoyment, as he emphatically nods and steps further into the office.

"I'm always ready." Gary reaches for the back of the single chair and drags it out so he can sit. The legs groan loudly against the polished floor. Hard to say if this is intentional on Gary's part, as he doesn't draw any attention to it. "Hit me."

[president_evil]

Reaching for a drawer in his desk, he stopped, head turning to watch silently as Gary noisily settled himself in. Only once Gary had finished - a pregnant beat later - did he start again, pulling open the drawer and retrieving the file he'd been provided.

Moving his notebook aside, he lay the folder open on his desk and picked up his pen again.

"Why do you wish to leave The Games?" he asked, without preamble.

[a_minute_younger]

Well, this is already incredibly awkward. Gary shuffles and adjusts himself in his seat, takes a deep breath, folds his hands daintily in his lap and lets his mouth pop into a smile. He's totally ready for this. Hasn't practiced any possible answers, but he's totally ready.

"Well that's kind of a loaded way to put it, don't you think?" Gary huffs and gives a quick shrug. No, he's not answering the question immediately. Why on earth would he do such a thing when he could babble his way there instead? "I mean--being a Tribute's what got me here in the first place. And the Arenas are such a big part of my tours and music, even when I'm not in them anymore, that I can't just, like, straight-up leave them or anything. You get what I'm saying?"

[president_evil]

Whether Gary continued to compete or not made little difference to Wesker. In fact, he'd actually already decided what he was going to put in his response to the Naturalization Board.

But he couldn't very well make it seem that simple, could he? It was a whole circus act for the Capitol, and he had a reputation to think of. On both sides.

"You simply longer wish to compete in the Capitol's storied tradition." The pen twisted lazily between long, pale fingers. "But you believe you can bring them glory elsewhere, yes?"

[a_minute_younger]

The fact that the interviewer's answers to his own questions seem more practiced than the interviewee's might perhaps illicit some confusion from a candidate more perceptive than Gary is. But since it's Gary we're dealing with, the only thing he chooses to note is that Wesker is doing all the hard work for him, and for that he is very grateful. Internally, of course. Right now he's a little too petrified to express his thanks in any other way than to nod and keep up that stiff, slightly-too-wide smile.

"Yeah! Yeah, sure," he agrees, voice bright. "The Arenas were great for launch, now I've got enough material from them that I don't need them so much anymore. That--" Gary squints, and his facade breaks for just a moment to show some earnest anxiety. "--That makes sense, right?"

[president_evil]

For what everyone believed Wesker to be, all that he actually was, in that moment, he might have been a doting parent - all but patting Gary's hand reassuringly.

Nodding yes, he spoke slowly and carefully, giving the young man all the time in the world to follow along.

"You understand what the Arenas are, and what the Games represent, and you will be able to serve that history through your - music."

It pained him to call it that, but he endured.

[a_minute_younger]

"Uh--yeah!" Gary keeps nodding, more emphatically this time. The pause and intentionally slow explanation are both signals that he completely misses. It's a bit of a theme of his, this selective attention--simultaneously one of his worst and yet most useful traits. "Loyalty and honor for Districts and all that jazz, I got that. That's--" he brightens with sudden inspiration, "--that's what my music's for, too! Loyalty to the Capitol by continuing to perform for it, honor for all the Districts in their themes and messages. Totally works."

He leans back and balances on the hindmost legs of his chair, looking quite pleased with himself.

[president_evil]

It was a herculean effort of patience, but even the dimmest mice could eventually get through the maze with enough cheese. Wesker exhaled a long breath through his nose and clicked his pen, shifting to make notes on the pages before him.

"Good," he says, as if he'd expected there might be some other option. "I assume that will be your foremost employment? Entertainer?" The pen paused. Red and gold eyes flicked above the sunglasses to glance at Gary. "Unless you've a day job in mind as well?"