(no subject)

[69problems]

WHO | Signless and YOU, with a special prompt for Bayard and Psii
WHAT | Dealing with the fallout of the Capitol revoking everyone's credit lines
WHERE | D12 suites/out and about in the Capitol
WHEN | Nowish
WARNINGS | Definitely discussion of slavery in the closed prompt

A. OPEN | D12

It doesn't take a genius to realize that tributes who suddenly have no source of income are going to find it far harder to get basic things like food. Signless, however, is no longer a tribute: he's a Mentor, and that affords him a decent (if not cushy) salary. Even if he can't help his tributes hone their combat skills, he can most certainly make sure they go into the arena healthy instead of starved.

To that end he's made it his mission to stock the District 12 kitchen. While he can guess at basics (tea, coffee, sugar, bread, fruit), he's well-aware that he doesn't know the tastes of his districtmates nearly so well as they do. Anyone who wanders into the kitchen can find him pinning a pad of paper onto the fridge with 'Grocery Requests' written at the top in careful print. His current plan is to restock things either every other week or as soon as the paper is reasonably full, but that's assuming the idea takes off in the first place.

B. OPEN | CAPITOL SHOPS

While he waits for someone to make use of his list, he decides to go on a preliminary run to at least stock up the kitchen a little. He wanders between shops: a few loaves of different kinds of bread here, a bag of apples and a bag of pears there. Soon he has a small but respectable collection of bags.

Particularly of interest to him is coffee. It took him quite a while to get started drinking it, but thanks to Bayard he's started having it more than once every few weeks. Tea was easy to buy -- tea he was familiar with. By contrast he knows next to nothing about coffee; he's just been making whatever was already available in the kitchen in Twelve and trusting it would be good.

"What is everyone most likely to like..." he murmurs to himself, inspecting bags of coffee beans with a furrowed brow. Dark? Medium? Medium, probably, but then there's so many flavors... he probably needs a second opinion.

"Do you know anything about coffee?" he asks the person nearest him. Chances are they know more than he does.

C. FOR BAYARD AND PSII | ICE CREAM SHOP

When Signless stepped out of the tribute tower today he'd assumed it would be a fairly uneventful outing. Now, sitting at a table in an ice cream parlor between a very annoyed Psiioniic and a bloody-lipped Bayard Sartoris, he's wondering where things went so very wrong. He picks at his rose-flavored ice cream and looks between them with a wary expression. There has to be a way to say 'why did I walk into this establishment to find you punching a small child in the face' that isn't quite so... accusatory. Even the Psiioniic is usually better with his temper than that, so Bayard must have said something that really hit a nerve.

"Is your lip feeling a little better, Bayard?" is what he finally asks. He doesn't want to prod Psii for information before he's absolutely sure it won't prompt another blowup. Much as he cares for the other troll, he's well-aware of how difficult he can be when he's angry.

Comments

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[biiowiired]

Only the thought of Signless ordering his ice cream for him like a fucking lusus spurred Psii to ask for a red and blue berry shaved ice and sit down like a proper adult. He pointedly looked away with a muscle working in his jaw, still seething. No one ever asked him if his busted lip was 'feeling better' after he got beat up as a kid, but he knew enough not to speak until he was sure he wouldn't just hiss something awful, scathing, and uninformative. His shaved ice in his favorite colors quailed under the heat of the sun, neglected by the troll who normally scarfed anything put in front of him, as if it was in danger of being stolen.

He didn't pick on people smaller than him, murderous troll wiggler or squishy human child. He grew up being on the opposite end of that; he knew better than anyone how stupid and infantile that was. But Bayard opened his mouth, and Psii's fist found itself connecting with his face. Not a hard enough cuff to do serious damage, because that wasn't his intent, but blood was drawn, and here the three of them were.

Psii wanted nothing more than to scuttle away into his tribble pile.

[yoknapatawpha]

Bayard, by contrast, despite the fat lip and bloody nose, doesn't seem all that put off by having to sit with the Psiioniic. In fact, he mostly just looks a bit nervous about being sat next to two people who still give him the jitters, which he's trying gamely to quell with the logic that the poor trolls can't help how they look.

Bayard gets a simple ice cream, a chocolate and vanilla swirl, except that he asks for the server to put pop rocks in his like he saw his friend Sandy Marko do. He looks between Signless and the Psiioniic, lip working against his upper one in a sort of nervous tic.

"I'd be obliged if you told me what it was I done to deserve a whupping, sir." Bayard figures it's probably not polite to eat while waiting for his scolding, but the ice cream feels good on his busted lip, and so he allows himself a few bites.

[69problems]

"If you can do it in a level-headed manner," Signless adds. He knows the Psiioniic. He knows they're likely to get a pissy lisping diatribe rather than a calm explanation, and he wants the Psiioniic to know he knows that. It's a pointed reminder to act like an adult for once instead of a petulant grub.

"I'd very much like to know too."

[biiowiired]

It was the "sir" that burned the old wounds. Calling someone "sir" or "ma'am" was something he associated with his time in slavery. Since he arrived in Panem, he faced nothing but dismissal or exasperation at the marks it had left on him. The average Capitolite didn't care, and the Gamemakers sought to make it worse. It had swelled this morning as he perused a magazine--with a fan theory that his whip scars were simply the result of wild nights in bed--and it came to a head with Bayard in the ice cream shop.

He turned his head to stare at the human boy, mouth working furiously.

"Don't call me that." He surprised himself with how thick with emotion his voice sounded. In his head, he knew what Signless wanted him to say, but somewhere between his brain and his mouth, the words got jumbled up. Vantas isn't fucking helping either.

"You thee nothing wrong with owning other people, we might ath well dithpenthe with the nithetieth and call each other 'thlave' and 'mathter,'" he spat.

B

[glowygreendeath]

Ermac had noticed the list, and had added a few rather exotic items to it. However, words on a piece of paper weren't something you could eat, so he'd ventured out into the market in search of something affordable and familiar to dine on. He'd been drawn to the smell of coffee; the powerful aroma reminded him of home, of the precious few quiet moments in the morning before any orders could be carried out or news could be brought in. He could just relax with the Emperor's court and enjoy the luxuries that came with being the Emperor's advisor and enforcer.

He doesn't notice Signless until he's spoken to, and the sudden shift back to the present is a bit jarring.

"Hm? Oh. Yes, we know about coffee."

[69problems]

Privately, Signless is pleased to see Ermac out and about in the Capitol so soon after arriving. He knows so many tributes who have neglected to explore, who have resisted learning anything about the place they're now expected to live, and he's glad Ermac is skipping that step. Whether he -- they? -- like it in the Capitol or not, it's better to be familiar with it. It will make the necessary interaction with the media easier and should a war begin, it's good to have some idea of the layout of the battlefield.

But that's all hypothetical, isn't it.

"Good! Do you have any flavors you particularly like? I want to be sure I have something for everyone."

[glowygreendeath]

Hiding in the tower would do him no good. He needed to know the lay of the land here if he ever got a chance to lead an invasion, and besides that, he needed to eat.

"We think a dark roast would be wisest. It is a milder flavour, so it will appeal to more of our...comrades."

Ermac looks over the variety of flavours and wrinkles his nose in disgust. Rose-flavoured coffee? Really? What was wrong with just plain coffee?

"We prefer coffee that tastes like coffee. The others may want to add cream or sugar to theirs."

[69problems]

"I'll want to, at least. It's less that I dislike the taste of coffee and more that I like sweet flavors more."

He prods a few of the dark roasts, taking the packages off the shelf to inspect the overly-flowery descriptions of their flavors. He wrinkles his nose at a few of the flavors (rose he can understand, but bacon? Why are humans so obsessed with bacon?).

"If you'd like to pick out a flavor you particularly want, I'll be sure to keep it stocked."

B

[furgood]

Theoretically, Meulin had come here for tea. Her little sister had a passion for the stuff since they'd come here. The closest thing back home was mint tea, just dried and boiled, but here it came in flavors and varieties she'd never heard of. Her sisters favorite was usually something citrusy but this shop had endless varities of drinks and the pile in her arms is more than a little precarious. Green and black tea, with chocolate, berries, orange and bergamot, vanilla and caramel. Her sister may not like it all, but it'd prove an adventure to try them.

She's about to ask for a bag when she notices the troll staring at the coffee. Even if she wasn't a gossip hound, familiar with all the tributes, mentors and most of the assorted staff, she would know him. Victor and tied in with that whole troll she's a copy of. She sneaks glances at him, attempting stealth, but suddenly he's meeting her eyes and asking something.

Coffee, right? It has to be about coffee. Either that or he knows her from Celebrus and wouldn't that be an awkward conversation to start. She sticks with coffee as her guess.

"...If you're asking what I recommend, I like--hmmmn, that one?" She points to a dark roast, flavored with vanilla and hazelnut that probably tastes as unlike coffee as one can get. She doesn't really like the stuff but if she adulterates it enough, it's palatable and helps her stay up for late nights.

"But I'm not really a coffee purr--person. Too bitter."

[69problems]

He nods, inspecting the coffee closely because it gives him a moment to think and to get his heartbeat back under control. When he'd asked her the question he hadn't really been looking at her, but he'd turned his head when she'd answered and he'd seen entirely the wrong face and for a moment it had knocked the wind right out of him.

It's not her fault. She may not even know. He forces himself to turn and look at her again, tries to ignore the particular shape of her face and her eyes. She's her own person, just like Porrim. It would be unfair of him to treat her like anything less.

"I usually get around that by filling it with sugar and cream. Having one that's more sweet on its own might be good... I'm shopping for my district, so I'm trying to collect a good range of flavors."

Keep it about coffee, he thinks. That's probably the safest topic of conversation.

[furgood]

"Ah..." She tries to reach for her purse, a chainmail and cloth concoction that is a month out of style already, but her efforts are hampered by her piles of tea. There's a pout, for a moment, before she slips off to the counter. It take a few murmured words and gestures before they understand she's not buying quite yet, just needed her hands. The pile is quickly whisked to one side and she returns with pen and notepad in hand.

The pen is decorated with a green leo symbol and the pretty writing she holds up is in green ink.

Sorry, I can't hear! But what were you saying?

If it's about how coffee is so great and I just need to try this one purrticular kind, I am sad to say that I went on a binge when I arrived and have found only a few I could stand :c If it is not, then I welcome your advice!

Oh if you want a red pen, I have red! I know trolls like to write in their colors.

[69problems]

Well. Now he sure feels like a jackass, especially when he has enough memories from his visions of Kankri's life that he ought to have expected she might not be able to hear him. 'Sorry' he mouths on instinct, and then points to 'if you want a red pen' and nods. He isn't particularly attached to writing in red the same way another troll might hemo-identify through text, but it will be easier to keep track of the conversation if they write in two distinct colors.

A

[crabmunicator]

It's often enough that Karkat comes up to District 12, looking either to visit his ancestor, his miniature lusus, or both. One tends to end up being incidental to the other. It just happens that today he glimpses his ancestor before he even gets to his room.

"Hey," he says, veering from his path into the kitchen. "I was just coming up to visit. You getting something to--" Eat, he almost asks, only to catch sight of the notepad.

"Oh, trying to help your tributes? Do they actually pay you or are you going to have to court sponsors or get a job like the rest of us?"

There's a note of bitterness to his tone, and his arms fold while his face pulls into a frown. While he has his own thoughts on easing the burden on the Districts, he can't pretend to be happy about the extra work this means.

[69problems]

It's hard to miss that note of bitterness, but Signless knows it isn't directed at him. While he personally is pleased to no longer be contributing to the suffering of those in the Districts, he knows he's one of very few offworlders lucky enough to afford that viewpoint.

"They pay me, yes. My job is looking after my tributes. It follows logically that this is what my salary should go toward."

[crabmunicator]

His arms shift, the fold of them loosening. It's good of him to do it, better than some mentors might do, and there's bound to be stress enough about paying back their debts to the Districts without having to worry extra about food. Still, that might not be the safest to go into publicly.

"Anyway," he says, dropping the fold entirely, "I'm here to visit the lusus. You going to stick around, or are you busy still?"

[69problems]

"I was going to go shopping after this," he admits. "So that there's something in here that can be eaten."

It's not that he doesn't want to spend time with Karkat (or the lusus, or the tribbles). He's just on a mission, and a Vantas on a mission is hard to distract.

"But if you're still here when I get back, I'll see you?"

a

[justoutrunyou]

Sandy's interactions with her "Mentor" have been limited at best, and it's her own fault really. After how many times she's grown attached to a mentor only to have them vanish she's gunshy about inflicting her curse upon this poor guy.

However the growling in her stomach and the promise of food in the kitchen has her lured in and she's peering over the counter watching him pin the list to the fridge. A bowl of fruit rests on the counter just a few inches away...

...feeling guilty for stealing from a fellow offworlder she reaches for the bowl. It's not that she can't afford her own food right now it's just that she's worried about spending what money she has. She needs to get in touch with the sponsors and make sure none of them are going to abandon her after yet another death in the arena. She only killed one person this time and she's not ready to go back to being poor.

[69problems]

Even when they were tributes together their interaction was minimal, and perhaps that was as much his fault as hers. He'd always had the impression that she could more or less handle herself and so had left her to her own devices even after transitioning from the position of tribute to Mentor, but that wasn't going to stop him making sure she had enough to eat.

"You can take one," he says, making sure the list is secure and then turning fully to her. Maybe he's misinterpreting her furtive movements, but it's better to be sure. "They're for everyone."

[justoutrunyou]

There's an audible sigh of relief followed by the crunch of an apple. She chews it up vigorously and swallows before smiling warmly at him.

"Thanks. Sorry I didn't ask first."

Take first ask forgiveness later right?

"Kinda surprised they didn't cut off our food sooner." She added before taking another bite. She'd thought about it and holding back their seemingly endless supply of food probably would have done a lot to keep tributes in line in the past.

B

[a_minute_younger]

Gary probably knows more than the Signless does about coffee, but only comparatively speaking. They had it in the District Eleven suites fairly often, and as Gary is wont to do, he frequently sampled whatever was being brewed at the time. He's hardly a connoisseur--he barely even remembers what each individual cup tasted like. This does not stop him from answering a question about it, especially when Signless is involved.

Actually, that's the main reason Gary is over here to begin with. He shows no interest in the bag of coffee he's poking on the shelf. "It's better with a shit-ton of vanilla creamer?" Gary offers with a shrug and a wide grin. "They have this, like, caramel sugar or some shit, and if you add some of that it's like fucking magic. Who knew, right?"

[69problems]

Count on Gary Epps to offer the best advice. Signless has never heard of this magical caramel sugar but now he is intent on obtaining some. He likes caramel. He likes sugar. Unless Gary expects him to drink it and then go on a roller coaster ride, he is fully up for sampling some.

"I've only ever used normal sugar. They flavor their sugars here, too? No, wait, of course they do."

See, the thing about food being provided for the suites up to this point is that it means he's done relatively little food shopping that didn't involve the nearest pet shop and a big bag of crickets. He didn't know you could get sugar other than the kind the Capitol provided to the District Twelve kitchen.

"How've you been? Busy, I assume."

[a_minute_younger]

"Man, who wouldn't?" The sugar is a cursory subject to him now--just something Gary thought of in the moment and a convenient way to break the ice--but that doesn't make it less important to go track down and buy for an interested friend. This is something Gary will pursue, just as soon as he gets Signless to reciprocate this fist-bump-and-bro-hug combo he's initiated without warning. "I'm cool! Got all the official paperwork and shit back, sponsor's found a flat downtown, just gotta move all my shit in and stock up the place and I'm set! Gotta make sure I've got all the booze and snacks ready at a moment's notice, you get me?"

A

[beckstitch]

Beck wanders out of her office looking for coffee and something to snack on while she figures out requisitions, and is a little surprised to find the Signless there. She makes her coffee quietly, watching him, but when she sees what the top of the pad says, she breaks into a dazzling smile (one made more dazzling by her tooth-whitening appointment last night).

"Oh! Are you putting up a list for the Tributes? That's such a great idea! Why didn't I think of that?" She's been grocery shopping on her morning run, filling up the cupboards as best she can, but there's only so much she can buy and even less she can carry. To that end, she's mostly just been buying things she thinks anyone will like - a few sweets here, some ready meals there, bread and milk and cake and other such basics. The Signless' solution seems so obvious, and so much more reasonable, she genuinely can't believe it didn't occur to her. "If you need any help affording it, I can chip in. In fact, why don't we split it fifty-fifty, or more if the other staff want to help?"

[69problems]

He turns to her, beaming as he finishes pinning up the list.

"It just seemed like the right way to go about things, when we're all from such radically different worlds. We're likely to want radically different comforts." He thinks longingly of grubloaf -- even substandard grubloaf -- but he can make do with crickets.

"I just want to be sure no one goes hungry. If you wanted to help cover the costs then you're more than welcome to." His pleased expression flags just a little. "I don't know if Tony will want to help. He keeps to himself, mostly, and the last time I spoke to him he was of the opinion that there's not much we can do for our tributes so there's no point in bothering. I think you and I might be on our own."

[beckstitch]

Beck pulls a face. "I worry about him," she confides, glancing back in the vague direction of Tony's suite. "I think he took his victory pretty badly. A lot of people... they do themselves damage when they get this way." Damage like deciding direct action is the way to go. Damage that ends up with missing tongues or a chest full of gunshot wounds. Remembering what Tony said about being a hero only makes her more concerned; heroism isn't a trait to be cultivated, in her experience. Makes you stupid. Makes you dead. "Maybe I ought to have a word with him."

She shakes that off, clearing her throat and plastering a smile back on. "Anyway, I'd be happy to! I mean, the last thing I want is to have all my Tributes too skinny to tailor for, you know?" She laughs, looking at the list as she tips milk into her coffee. "I get why they did it, don't get me wrong, but if I can help, why not?"