People In Glass Houses...

[neclectus]

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.

Comments

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Sherlock earned his hatred. John netted himself a week of respite from dealing with Howard, since Howard can't bring himself to look John in the eye without wanting to cry. And Joan...

Some logical part of him knows that Joan wasn't intentionally dragged into the romantic psychodrama of a stressed-out teenager, but that doesn't really spare her from his ire.

Howard's stylists have convinced him not to show up to a party in his usual two-sizes-too-big baggy clothes, and have managed to wrangle him into a rather nice suit, with extra cushioning sewn into the front and back to try (in vain) to disguise that he's back down to seventy pounds and looks less like a teenager than the skeleton left behind after a tragic house fire. They've put a dash of gold glitter in his eyebrows and on each cheekbone. Distracts from the dark circles, his stylist had said. You've been staying up late again. Didn't your Escort tell you to stop that?

He runs into Joan by the food, where he's piling up a picnic basket with enough contents for a large family.

"Thanks for sticking up for me back there. Oh wait." His voice is toxic enough to strip the paint off a wall.

[formersurgeon]

He really looked terrible. Joan remembered what he had said, how after every arena he had to fatten back up. He seriously wasn't kidding.

He apparently was also determined to continue acting like a jerk. Great.

"It's nice to see you, too, Howard. I don't know what you expected me to stick up for you for? But you weren't exactly being friendly."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

He knows she's right that he was being less-than-amiable. He also doesn't especially care - it was the Arena, and manners hardly matter so much as the content of a conversation.

"I came and told you everything I knew about the dinosaurs, and you stood there while I got outed on live TV. No wonder Sherlock likes you. You're both heartless sociopaths."

[formersurgeon]

"No, you came to tell John everything you knew about the dinosaurs. Sherlock and I just happened to be around for you to glare at and be rude to. As for your sexual orientation, I could care less who or what you're attracted to. We weren't talking about it to out you, we were talking about it because of the potential problems a crush could cause for everyone involved, including you. Not taking that possibility into account? Would have been stupid. And if you think I'm a heartless sociopath, then you definitely don't know the first thing about me."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Who cares if I was there to tell John? If it'd been than important to me that I only talked to him, I'd have pulled him aside."

The glare he gives Joan is not just livid, but also hurt. Catching Sherlock's remark on the footage had devastated him. He's spent days hiding in his room, battered by invisible accusations and the weight of his own shame.

"Yeah, that's totally what Sherlock had in mind. What he did and what you stood behind was so fucked up. You either don't know the first thing about people or you don't care."

[formersurgeon]

That look of hurt gave Joan pause. She understood, much more than he was likely to know or give her credit for. She lowered her voice, went calm and quiet.

"I can't speak for anyone but myself," she said softly, "but hurting you was never my intention. I'm sorry that I did. What happened, at least as far as my involvement, was completely out of concern. I do have one question, though. The Capitol has cameras everywhere. They're watching us 24/7. Analyzing our every move. With all of that, do you really think what Sherlock said was 'outing' you? That he was the only or first person to come to that conclusion?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

He didn't expect an apology. Now that he has one, he's like a a dog that's caught a car bumper - he isn't sure what to do with it. The anger doesn't go away entirely, but it's subsumed in the fear and hurt for the moment. He lowers his voice.

"It should've been on my terms. As much as possible. He didn't have the right to take that away from me." Even if that meant it would have been years before Howard came to terms with things. He bites his lips. "Where I'm from that could've got me lynched."

He's dead serious.

[formersurgeon]

She listened, glanced down once before lifting her eyes to meet his again.

"I wasn't aware that he was taking that away from you. But you're right. I was looking at it from my own perspective, and the perspective of this place. There doesn't seem to be a stigma on homosexuality here. Look at the popularity of the relationship between Maximus and Wyatt. Or Sherlock and John, as far as that goes. I didn't think to consider what your experience might be like. I'm sorry."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"People believe Sherlock when he says things like that."

It more than fear, though he doesn't know how to tell Joan that. He doesn't know how to explain to anyone, himself included, that all he wanted was a normal life and that this is one more reason things are always going to be a little bit harder for him.

And it's more than that, too. It's every time he cried in elementary school and got called a little girl. It's every time Orc's dad didn't stop at racism and decided to accuse his son of going over to Howard's so much because they were fagging it up. It's every time he called Dekka a lesbo because he knew that was the only way to cut her down, because it stood for the way her parents didn't love her after she kissed another girl.

It's that there's a part of who he is that he'd cut out like a tumor if he could. No hesitation. But as he can't, all he has is the pretense that it isn't there, and now that's gone too.

The Capitol could be the most accepting place on Earth and that wouldn't mean Howard would be okay with this.

"Thanks for the apology." He snaps the top of the picnic basket closed, looking down and away from her eyes. "Really."

[formersurgeon]

She nodded, silent. He didn't have to thank her, it wasn't like she was doing him a favor by apologizing. She still thought that it was legitimate to bring up with John how problematic a possible crush was. But she realized it was something that should have been done in private. Or at least as private as was possible with this place. It wasn't really any different than speaking openly about someone's addiction. Regardless of the social attitude toward such a thing, it still should be done with care, because it was a private and sensitive thing, even if it was vital information.

She should have known better.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

He's quiet for a bit - politely so - as he eyeballs which utensils he's going to steal. If Joan hadn't told him she worked with the police, he'd be disappearing them into his pockets now and preparing them for a new life as building blocks to metalwork mobiles and pieces of art, but he'll hold off for now.

And it eventually comes out, remorse being ushered into the air by Joan making the first move.

"Sorry for being rude back in the Arena. It wasn't you, it was just - me and Sherlock have history." He chews his tongue. "You liking the party?"

[formersurgeon]

Joan was mildly surprised by the apology, pleasantly so. She was glad he felt comfortable enough with her to give it. And to continue a conversation. She felt forgiven.

"It's interesting. The venue is nice. And for the most part people aren't trying to kill each other, which is a welcome change."

She thought of commenting on Sherlock, how his behavior was often inexcusable, but decided not to. Better to just leave it for the moment.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Eh, agree to disagree on the venue. I'm pretty much over tropics for the next few, you know. Years." He shrugs, sliding into the more conversational attitude gratefully. "Your dress is nice. It's not like this big sequinned Lisa Frank glitter cupcake disaster like half the stuff my Stylists puts the girls in my District in."

[formersurgeon]

She smiled and laughed softly.

"You should have seen the first six the stylist tried to put me in. Full on wedding cakes. Apparently at some point bakers and architects decided to join forces and take over the fashion industry."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard giggles. It's a genuine sound, and one that sounds as young as he is. "Got to give them points for creativity, though. They manage to make things that are both ugly and super uncomfortable. There's gotta be an award for that."

[formersurgeon]

That giggle was wonderful, a truly happy sound from him, and her smile widened.

"There's totally got to be, and it must be huge, because everyone in this place is going for it."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Panem Academy Ughwards. The Phlegmies. The Oh-Nony Awards."

He grins. They've fixed his teeth yet again, and that's one of the things he loves about this place - no rotting abscesses where his molars used to be. Now the meticulous minutes he spends brushing three times a day actually show.

"The Stylists aren't so bad, though, once they figure out how to work with you. My Escort lets me where what I want when I'm not going to parties. I think the words she used were keeping me on a long leash."

Code: she has more promising tributes to show off to the Sponsors.

[formersurgeon]

She laughed, nodding in appreciation of the list of faux awards. "Clever." She sighed. "Usually I'm all for style, but one, I like to choose my own style, and two, the options kinda suck. I mean, screw the Peacekeepers, right? We need Fashion Police."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"We need a fashion military. Police ain't gonna cut the job." He shakes his head. "Still, at least it's always laundered and smells nice. Or, well. Smells like detergent that's supposed to smell like sea breezes and kind of smells like the inside of a really clean bathroom."

[formersurgeon]

"Seriously," she said with a playful roll of her eyes. "They can yank us here from our worlds and bring us back when we die. You would think they would have figured out some way to keep detergents from smelling totally fake and totally disgusting."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"The sad thing is? It's still a step up from how horrible we smell after a week in the Arena. Maybe they're trying to figure out how to weaponize smell." He giggles again, then grabs another bread roll and shoves it in his pocket.

[formersurgeon]

She notes that bread roll, and wonders about it. Surely the Capitol didn't have a problem with Howard eating enough to fill out his emaciated frame, did they? Then why steal food? Maybe it's habit. Joan knows that some people who grow up with very few possessions become hoarders later on, their habit of saving everything they can becoming maladaptive in other situations.

"Oh god," she answers with an amused grimace. "Weaponized smell. Eww. That could get very disgusting very quickly. Seriously, even thinking about it...Yuck. And yet, you just know they're going to have a whole Arena based on that."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Unwittingly, Joan has diagnosed Howard's hoarding compulsion perfectly. His room has become such a testament to mental illness that Howard's ashamed to let other people see it by now.

"Oh, totally. They already nearly blinded us with the snow Arena and made us go half-crazy with the singing Neopets in the candy Arena. We only have three senses left to assault." He starts eyeballing some of the other small foods he can sneak out. "You gotten a chance to make sure John's leg's okay?"

He figures asking another doctor about it would probably be best.

[formersurgeon]

"Seriously, once they decide to go after taste? I am so out."

He asked about John's leg, and she hesitated for just a moment. She knew from Sherlock that John's issues were mental, not physical. She had no idea how widespread that knowledge was, and she wasn't about to follow up an apology for one indiscretion by committing another.

"He's fine," she answered. "Everything that happened in the arena was reset when he was brought back, of course."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard frowns a little. "He's still limping. I didn't talk to him or nothing, I just watched him-"

Wow. He stops himself. That sounds hella creepy and stalkery. A flush runs up his face, especially since Joan had been there when Sherlock had decided to broadcast about Howard's life.