thecapitol | [OPEN ] ► Central Commons

Entry tags:

[OPEN ] ► Central Commons | New Arrival

WHO| Lindsey and OPEN
WHAT| New arrival appears.
WHEN| Sometime during Arena Day 6, after Eliot's bidding talk-to
WHERE| Central Commons, right through the front door
WARNINGS/NOTES| Mistaken identities, possible rudeness, you know, general pleasantries.

Hell was a lot more pleasant than Lindsey first anticipated it to be, at least, this one he landed into. Aside from the whole fight to the death and possibly die repeatedly for the entertainment of Hell's —Panem, need to get the dimension name right— denizens, it really wasn't that bad. Could've been worse, like get tortured to death for their entertainment instead.

Looking at the grandeur of the 'jail' he landed himself in, blue eyes traveling over the colorful decor of new age interior design, he decided he could definitely learn to relax here. It sure beat brimstone and fire, and frankly, he kind of liked the chic design.

"But could use a little less gaudy colors," he commented out loud as he continued his exploration of the large ground floor.

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Eliot aimed a light-hearted swat at his brother's head. "Oh, shut up," he muttered. "I'm your brother, not your nephew, ya headcase."

Lindsey ducked the swat but when he straightened, his grin was even wider than before. The mocking was gone too to be replaced by some genuine mirth.

"Yeah, who I haven't seen for a decade. I think I got some inspection rights."

"Oh, fine, you big sap," Eliot retorted, a teasing glint in his eyes. He spun on his heels, coming back to face his brother with a mock salute. "Your turn. And it's been more like two decades, Linds."

"Two decades?" If Lindsey's previous profession wasn't trained to have a iron solid poker face, his jaw may have dropped. For now, all he did was arch his brows and open up his arms, doing a slow turn for his brother as if he was on the center of a stage.

"And how old are you right now?"

"Thirty-seven," Eliot replied, reaching for his brother's wrist. "What happened? How did you get a scar like that?"

That would be about two decades alright. Lindsey was about to comment when his brother took his wrist, his right one, and commented on his faded scar.

Of all things for Eliot to notice.

"Let's just say my career... changed hands." He gave a chilling grin that was all teeth and very little mirth.

Eliot nearly glared at his twin. "You're a lawyer, Linds. And I've never heard of something like that working. Too many nerves involved. And, please, tell me that wasn't meant to he funny."

"Ripley's Believe It Or Not." He pulled his hand back and looked down at it. "Or Lindsey's, in this case." Wiggling his fingers in a waving motion, his smile continued as he uninformatively added, "I call him Brad."

Eliot swatted at Lindsey's head again. "It's not funny, you crazy ass!"

He sighed quietly, looking his brother over again. "So what have you done with yourself the last twenty years?"

A swat which Lindsey ducked, again. He allowed that to distract him from answering Eliot's question as he figured out what to tell. Some things even his twin shouldn't know.

Like it should be fifteen and not twenty years, or that he'd been doing things no lawyer should be involved in, even the real shady ones.

"Oh, you know. Graduated, got hired at a firm, got killed. it's an exciting world."

"Details, man!" Eliot countered. "That's way too short for what you've been doing for twenty years. And what do you mean, you got killed?"

Lindsey really didn't want to correct his brother, but this insistence of making him older than he was was getting annoying. "Fifteen, actually. Which is why it might be better if I called you my older brother here if anyone asks."

He gave Eliot a deadpanned look and began walking, deciding that if they were going to have this conversation, they might as well have it seated. "How many meanings of being killed do you have?"

Eliot rolled his eyes and followed his brother to one of the couches. "Well, you can't mean what I'd mean when I say I got killed since you're standin' right here, not dead," he retorted. "And, if you wanna play at bein' the pain in the ass little brother, go ahead."

"Sure I can," Lindsey answered back, happy to prove his brother wrong. He was already picking up the little brother act quite well. That was when he opened his shirt and showed Eliot the two bullet scars that covered his chest.

"Funny how these hell dimension works, they can pull you every which way after you're dead."

Eliot raised an eyebrow at the bullet scars on his brother's chest. "Who do I have to kill for that?" he asked simply. He wasn't going to bother arguing with his twin about the whole being dead thing. Once Lindsey got an idea in his head, it was almost impossible to change his mind. He doubted that had changed since they were in highschool.

"Lucky you, you might actually get the chance," Lindsey quipped after letting his shirt drop by close. As he did the buttons up, he grinned at his brother, not at all finding the topic they were talking about to be strange. "After I'm through with him anyway. I'm sure they'll put the chunks back together for you to have your chance."

Eliot stared at Lindsey for a moment. "You're saying they're here? As a Tribute?"

"Smart boy, guessed it in one." He shrugged and leaned back in his seat, glancing to the large tv that showed the happenings of the Arena still.

"Stop being an ass, Linds," Eliot retorted. "I might not be the geek you always were but I've never been stupid. And you know it."

"A lot can happen in twenty years," Lindsey pointed out, not at all remorseful for being the ass his brother was labeling him as.

"I heard the army takes thinking out of people."

"I ain't been military at all for thirteen years," Eliot retorted. "And the army might take thinkin' outta people but Special Forces puts it back in. Besides, I heard law school takes the common sense outta people. Or at least decent taste."

"Touche," Lindsey answered with a laugh. He clapped his brother's shoulder with a grin. "It's good seeing you again, Eli. So how long did you say you've been here?"

And hence he successfully avoided talking about Lorne.

"This was my second time in," Eliot said slowly, calculating the amount of time in his head. "So about a month."

"So how long before the next game?" Lindsey asked, genuinely curious about how this whole game business happened.

"Depends on how long this one lasts," Eliot said. "We'll have about a week in between if they keep the same pace they have so far."

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