thecapitol | People In Glass Houses...

Who | Timaeus Nadir and guests
What | Timaeus is hosting a picnic get-together/catch-up.
Where | The picnic will be taking place in the Tropical Habitat Dome.
When| We'll be using a bit of wibbly time so that people who want to attend can.
Warnings/Notes| None as of yet.

(This is an opportunity for me to make some new CR as well as catch up with ongoing relationships, but I also want to encourage tagging around between characters! Feel free to do whatever you like in the setting with whoever you like! Also I will be backtagging this so don't feel you've missed the boat if you haven't tagged in immediately <3)

Timaeus certainly knew how to organise a gathering- even if it wasn't an outrageously opulent celebration to be held on one of his own yachts. This one was to be held under the expansive dome of the Tropical Habitat- the entire location rented out for the day to Timaeus and his guests, a loosely private affair- formal invitations as such hadn't been extended, but those welcome knew they were. Naturally, all tributes and victors were included in this group.

The Dome was a beautiful piece of architecture in itself, though antiquated when compared with the technology used for the Arenas. Rather than invisible forcefields, the climate of the interior was separated from the outside by elaborately curving steel and glass. Inside, tropical plants of all types thrived- there was a still, green pond and, deeper inside, a cascading waterfall. Butterflies in hundreds of colours, sizes and shapes flitted about, tropical birds swooped between the trees, brightly coloured fish darted in the water.
Blankets and cushions had been scattered in the main clearing with hampers of food, but there was plenty of space for the guests to break away from the gathering if they so desired- the dome was full of winding paths through the greenery- some even climbing around the trunks of the largest trees and leading to viewing platforms above. In a temporary gazebo in the clearing, a string quartet played music that wasn't quite the classical pieces Tributes were familiar with.

Timaeus himself seemed in a brighter mood than he had been for months, more than happy to make conversation with anyone who approached him- though he was certainly keeping an eye open for particular individuals. Some that he'd met, some that he'd lost and had returned to him, and others still that he had yet to meet.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Give her a break, asshole. It's -- you know, bad enough Nora rode her ass about her crush on a zombie, whatever, we all have our vices, yours just happens to be dead dick, but it's worse that it's a thing. Like. An Arena thing. A couple thing. She hasn't forgotten, unfortunately, going shopping with the corpse and getting fans following them.

"I'm not exactly stalking his Panem life," she bites, a little unfairly. "I know. It's." She stops and raises her hands, like she means to grab onto an explanation that's better than zombie puppy love.

Except it feels worse. All those times he saved her life. Keeping her safe from the other Dead. "It's fucking weird." Also weird that R's bringing it up with other people. Other guys. Is that a thing they do? "What'd you tell him? Buy flowers and hope for the best?"

"It's all over the TV? Yeah, yeah it is." Howard shrugs. "I'm just, you know. Doing the bro thing and trying to matchmake. Except it looks like you don't want to be matchmade, so..."

He pokes the tips of both his index fingers together. His cheeks flush red.

"But yeah, you're right, it's really fucking weird. Who's going to have a thing for corpses, right?"

Oh. Cool. So there's another reason to avoid any and all contact with television. Her first time seeing a working one? Super novelty. It'd been awesome. Until the celebrated televising of murder. So. That happened. Kind of ruined the magic, especially when she was one of them.

Doing the bro thing. She tries to resist rolling her eyes. She really does. It just kind of happens and --

Whoa, when did I say that? She bites her lip.

"Yeah," she answers lamely. If Howard's red, she's pretty much burgundy. Why are they having this conversation? "Right." Not her, obviously. Definitely not the kind of thing she'd do. Or tell Nora about. Or get shit from Nora about.

Guess Howard was her new Nora. Because she can't, you know. Help it. "But if he wasn't a corpse." Yeah. If. "It'd be different."

Wow.

"Whatever you say. That's some weird taste, if you ask me."

Yeah. Not hypocritical at all, given that Howard made out with R in a closet. But miraculously, the Capitol hasn't released that footage, and thus as far as Howard's concerned what Julie doesn't know won't kill her (or him).

Howard could not more conspicuously jam his hands in his pocket and start whistling if he tried - on the upside, at least he's found the one conversation topic more excruciatingly awkward than killing her, so, well. There's that.

There. Is. That.

"So how'd you die last time?"

Christ he just cannot help digging a hole for them to cozy up in.

She stares at him. What, was she hoping for Nora's companionably well, yeah, he's okay. Kind of hot past the gore. After a beat she bites her lip and messes with her dress. "I'm used to severely limited options. You know. Most people being dead and all. I'm lucky if I can find a guy with both arms."

Her options being the drunks at the bar who loved to leer, the Dead, and. Nope. That was it. The soldiers? Not an option. Not after Perry. Not after she's seen what Dad did to them. What being outside did to them.

Actually, with that new attempt at conversation, Julie's pretty sure talking about corpses was easier. "Seriously? Is that the new ice breaker around here?" Howard, what the fuck. Sensitive topic. He was probably still digesting pieces of her face, Christ. "I starved. Threw up a lot. Then I'm pretty sure I got eaten -- again -- by an escapee from Jurassic Park."

"Hey, I guess I shouldn't judge. I'm not exactly rolling in girls." His face flushes yet again as he manages to continue burrowing as deep as he can into his own metaphorical grave.

He rubs his wrists together and flips his gaze up towards the ceiling. "Well, it is a common factor that we all have. The other common factor is like, how much does this party blow, have you eaten yourself stupid yet, and what's the weirdest place your Stylist has tried to shave you."

Howard didn't even know the top of his feet needed shaving.

"Maybe I should just..." He jerks a thumb as if to say 'head out and stop destroying their previously perfectly fine relationship'.

At least he manages to pull a laugh out of her. Okay, she knows she's -- high-strung. At the moment. Sure, moving past the whole zombie thing. But. "You're like. The third person to ask me. I'd rather talk about how much all of these parties blow."

Food was good, though, even if she hadn't had a taste of that boat's pad thai again.

Stupidly, she grabs his wrist. Not like she was gonna cry out wait, don't go but sealing that... it wasn't totally ruined. Pretty good considering he'd eaten her. And maybe she didn't have, you know. Any friends. "Sorry, I'm nuts right now." And then she drops her hand, suddenly awkward. She wipes her palms on her dress. "I should go do interviews, anyway. Or whatever I have to to suck up." Maybe get a gun one day. She's still holding out for that. "My fingers, by the way. She shaved my fucking fingers."

Howard snaps his wrist away from her hand as if pulling it from a fire. It's instinctive, unconscious, a reaction coded into his bones rather than calculated out in emotions and impulses. For a second, his eyes take on a glassy expression, looking beyond the person holding his wrist.

He looks sheepish when he snaps back to.

"Fingers. That's intense. Do you have really awful knucklehair? Do blondes even get knucklehair?" He laughs weakly and raises his eyebrows, sneaking his hands into the safety of his pockets. "Try doing a different accent for each interview. It makes them go faster."

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