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

[the_marshal]

Wyatt could smell him, as he leaned close. A combination of the strange paint - sharp and unnatural, the perfume of the soap the stylists had undoubtedly insisted upon, and Max - that warm, familiar scent - hitting him hard in the chest.

He breathed deep, and tried to ignore the low, pleasant twist in his gut.

"True enough," he smirked, meeting Max's eyes briefly (too long). "But it ain't them I think of."

Wasn't them he cared about.

Looking down again, he sifted through the rest of the basket's contents and came up empty.

"None in here."

He reached for the second basket, leaning closer, brushing Max's arm.

[gluteus]

It was a touch silly, for a man of his years to feel his heart stop with a casual, vague sentence, but it did. It ain't them I think of. He smothered the smile that threatened.

He could have leaned out of the way, perhaps, but instead he let his arm leave a gold streak on Wyatt's as he pressed closer instead.

Perhaps, he should have been more careful. Perhaps, he should have tried harder to keep his feelings for the man a secret. But he was not yet able to think clearly enough to do so, and nor did he really particularly want to.

"We can always drink from the bottle," He suggested in a low rumble.

[the_marshal]

"Jus' bein' thorough, Max," he replied, mustache twitching as their elbows bumped.

Was it obvious? The way his blood pumped along so sweet and warm? How tempted he was to dip his head and find out if Max tasted the same here, under the sun, as he did the cool, quiet of his room?

Maybe.

But now that he understood what his heart was saying, he was reluctant to tell it to feel otherwise.

"Wouldn't want our gentleman host to to think less'a ya."

[gluteus]

Maximus tsked under his breath and turned his torso to look into the basket beside him, and managed to pull out two plastic but ridiculously ornate goblets before Wyatt could reach them. He held one out with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"We couldn't have that," He agreed flatly as he reached for the wine bottle again and poured Wyatt a glass, before pouring himself one.

"A toast?"

[the_marshal]

Wyatt tapped his thumb against the side of the glass, snorting wryly, wondering, as he often did, over the Capitol's tastes as Max poured the wine.

Settling down again, resting on his hip (the toe of one boot brushing Max's ankle in a rhythmic tap, some light beat only he was hearing), he waited for the pouring to finish before speaking.

"To fine afternoons," holding out his glass, he smiled fondly, "an' good company."

[gluteus]

Maximus could only smile, tapping the edge of his glass against Wyatt's.

"Good company," he murmured, and meant it, with every ounce of his being. He tipped his head back, and the wine with it, and a good warmth spread through his chest.

It was a fine wine. Their host knew his business.

(A gentle rhythmic tap back, ankle to toe.)

[the_marshal]

Wyatt drank his slower, lingering over the taste and smiling around the lip of his glass. (It ain't them I think of.)

Leaning back to finish, the last of the dark wine washing across the glass, he rolled onto his back contentedly, pulling off his hat as he settled. Dropping it onto the blanket between them.

His hand stayed beneath the brim, reaching slowly, carefully.

"Not so bad, huh?" he murmured, eyes chasing the ironwork above them, studying the clouds through the glass. "This picnic bit."

[gluteus]

"No, I can see why it appeals," Maximus said with a careful grin as his eyes fell to Wyatt's hat, to the hand still trapped under it. After a long moment he shifted, casually, and happened to slip his hand underneath it as well.

"It isn't often I can call something in this place 'relaxing'."

[the_marshal]

He felt his hat shift, felt brushing across his knuckles, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Best enjoy it while we can..." His eyes closed, willing his lungs to work and easing out the breath that threatened to catch when his fingers found Max's beneath the hat. "Lord only knows what's comin' next with them."

More parties to be pranced around like prize ponies, stalking monsters beneath the streets, the endless gossip about the next arena....

His fingers twitched against Max's, slipped in along beside them.

He was more than happy to push all that aside and just be there, beneath the sunshine, with Max, for however long he could get.

[gluteus]

Fingers brushed against one another, and then slowly lifted to curl around, his fingertips rough and callous against Wyatt's knuckles. He kept his eyes firmly placed somewhere else, of course, training upwards to the glass ceiling to follow Wyatt's, as if he wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary at all.

He nodded to Wyatt's words and closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the garden that made the sun feel warm on his face despite the fact that winter brewed outside around them.

His fingers rubbed slowly and aimlessly, tracing the contour of Wyatt's hand.

"We'll take it as it comes," He murmured lowly, eventually, and he may as well have been half asleep for how coherent it sounded. His mind completely and utterly somewhere else.