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

[formersurgeon]

He was following her. He wasn't being a complete jerk, which was a point in his favor, but still. Persistence. Good quality or bad quality; it could have gone either way.

She stopped and turned to him.

"Considering we're all here to kill each other on reality TV? You're lucky if all you get is a slap. You're lucky if all you get is a left hook."

[swill]

He didn't quite get that. Reality TV was a bit redundant, because wasn't everything on the television real? Barring advertisements and the searingly obvious, of course. He thinks fleetingly about reality radio- and didn't that sound silly? There were programs for entertainment, and then there weren't. His lips pulled back a tad as he scattered the line of thought. So not only does Hawkeye stop when she does, he straightens his back and pulls back without quite moving his feet from where they'd landed.

With a healthy dose of scolded schoolboy on his expression, he steels himself regardless because he raises his eyebrows and counters with a sweetly laced, "Do you know what'd make me feel luckier?" Because he'd lie if he said he wasn't just baiting now, but with purpose. He thinks.

[formersurgeon]

Seriously? She just warned him about this sort of behavior being bad for his health, and what did he do? He continued with the not at all smooth come ons.

She rolled her eyes hard, put up a hand in exasperation, and turned again to walk away.

[swill]

"Cry 'wolf' and that's what happens. I know, I know." He couldn't blame her, and he figured his game had gone too far. Wouldn't the major love to chew him out for this? It's what he thinks, shrugging, letting the woman walk on and berating himself. But now there's an obligation to press on further, and blindly he does. So his stomach twisted a little in seeing he'd done some harm, but this time her frustration was he fault alone. He hadn't meant anything by his question before, honest to God.

He even reaches a hand out to pull at her, thinking nothing of it at first before he let it drop before making any contact with her arm. He'd rather not get slapped. Seriously. "I was just going to ask for your name," he said, no bite, no venom, no honey. "I get it. No more funny stuff. I'm sorry." But that last time had been her fault entirely for getting worked up. It was true. "Look, if you're going to walk off, let me at least apologize properly. I can't explain how much of an ass I'm usually not when you have your back turned like that."

[formersurgeon]

Typically, Joan didn't put up with that kind of crap from anyone. Even Sherlock's occasional sexually inappropriate comment or leer would get a glare from her or a hard eye roll followed by her walking away. But this guy's actions suggested to her more loneliness and desperation than malice. He was new, in this terrible place, and maybe he was just reaching out the only way he knew how. So she sighed, turned back.

"All right. But first, I would appreciate it if you toned down the come-ons. Fair?"

[swill]

Wasn't that what he had agreed to, before she had brought it up? Hawkeye wouldn't say he wasn't feeling rightfully embarrassed at being called out, at having taken so long to prove he was genuinely only wanting to get to know her. He even took a step back when the woman stopped, and even kept from giving her another look over.

"I will, I will." He promised. Putting up his hands would be too much, though the twitch of a finger is there to show it crossed his mind. And it wouldn't be fair to have her introduce herself first, if he's the one who said he's apologize, so he sighs and fights the urge to run a hand through his hair. So much trouble for such a simple thing. "I'm Pierce," he starts- awkwardly. He continues, and fixes that. "Benjamin Pierce, I guess, but everyone calls me Hawkeye. Here and back home, I mean. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry I did." Because confessing that flirting was an instinct wouldn't go over well, he thought. He lifts a hand- drops it. Well, that was that.

[formersurgeon]

She wouldn't say it's okay, because it wasn't. But she was also gracious enough to let it go, and concentrate instead on meeting a new Tribute.

"Hawkeye," she said, giving him a smile that suggested all was forgiven, and extending a hand. "I'm Joan Watson."

[swill]

Her smile nearly sparked one of his own, but it'd be too soon after being scolded-- or something- that Hawkeye had to fight the upturn of his lips. With it came an almost physical hurt, something Hawkeye would swear had been a tear right down the center of his chest that ran straight to the pit of his stomach, that made him feel like he was made of crisp paper and nothing more. See, the thing was that the major would have talked his ear off. She'd done it before. He figured remembering her was a part of the guilt process.

So he takes her hand, still fighting back the smile and it was obvious, and he shakes it and says, "John Watson's brother?" But that was supposed to be a joke, and fearing that she'd say anything about it, he went on without pause. "Hawkeye. Yeah, it's from The Last of the Mohicans," because he'd never get tired of the old, boring story, and there's a natural fondness as he tells it. "It was my old man's favorite book and he'd always read it to me, and the name stuck." And he remembered being a kid and wanting to be an Indian when he grew up, before he had the brains to figure out he wanted to be a doctor. The smile breaks through, and he rocks back on his heels with new found enthusiasm. He thinks about reciting a few lines from Romeo and Juliet- something about names and meanings and roses- but that was never wise on the first date, not when the woman wouldn't go along with his games.

He lifts a shoulder and drops it and says, "You've got an interesting name, too."