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shambler) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-12-11 09:27 pm
shambler) wrote in thecapitol2013-12-11 09:27 pm
Entry tags:
The date.
WHO| R and Julie
WHAT| R's on his gradual road to almost-humanity. He finally asks Julie out on a date.
WHERE| A coffee shop and park. Big wide open space.
WHEN| After Timaeus's party and this
WARNINGS| Mentions of zombie stuff
He must be having a good day: his feet don't seem to drag as often, his spine feels slightly less crooked. That, plus the way his stomach flip flops instead of lies there like a lump of meat, and R's starting to think that medication might actually be....working. He doesn't understand how it does. They could've gotten tired of his shuffling from Arena to Arena for all he knows. Or they could've taken his moans to Peeta and Shion to heart and decided to try curing the uncurable. Maybe it doesn't matter.
He asks Julie out.
R thinks he means a date, like...an actual date and not just them hanging out, hoping the other zombies (or Tributes) mind their business. A date date. It might be months and Arenas late, but still. He asks. Finally.
To his shock, she says yes. He wonders if she knows about Perry because back in that jungle, it seemed like Zombie Charades wasn't working out between them. Then he catches himself worrying about his groaning, his shoes, his hair and for awhile, there's no room for Perry. This is probably what it was like during life Before.
R's waiting by the coffee shop. His hair looks a little less brittle, a little less straw-like, and there's something that could be almost mistaken for a flush in his face. It's probably just a trick of the light. The smile that spreads behind his muzzle when Julie crests the small hill is more natural, less jerky as if the muscles are fighting off rigor-mortis. Julie's always brought that out in him. Smiles and even topping his old syllable record.
"Glad...you can make...it," R groans as his face lights up. There's still some pauses in there. He'll have to work on that. "Hi."
WHAT| R's on his gradual road to almost-humanity. He finally asks Julie out on a date.
WHERE| A coffee shop and park. Big wide open space.
WHEN| After Timaeus's party and this
WARNINGS| Mentions of zombie stuff
He must be having a good day: his feet don't seem to drag as often, his spine feels slightly less crooked. That, plus the way his stomach flip flops instead of lies there like a lump of meat, and R's starting to think that medication might actually be....working. He doesn't understand how it does. They could've gotten tired of his shuffling from Arena to Arena for all he knows. Or they could've taken his moans to Peeta and Shion to heart and decided to try curing the uncurable. Maybe it doesn't matter.
He asks Julie out.
R thinks he means a date, like...an actual date and not just them hanging out, hoping the other zombies (or Tributes) mind their business. A date date. It might be months and Arenas late, but still. He asks. Finally.
To his shock, she says yes. He wonders if she knows about Perry because back in that jungle, it seemed like Zombie Charades wasn't working out between them. Then he catches himself worrying about his groaning, his shoes, his hair and for awhile, there's no room for Perry. This is probably what it was like during life Before.
R's waiting by the coffee shop. His hair looks a little less brittle, a little less straw-like, and there's something that could be almost mistaken for a flush in his face. It's probably just a trick of the light. The smile that spreads behind his muzzle when Julie crests the small hill is more natural, less jerky as if the muscles are fighting off rigor-mortis. Julie's always brought that out in him. Smiles and even topping his old syllable record.
"Glad...you can make...it," R groans as his face lights up. There's still some pauses in there. He'll have to work on that. "Hi."
no subject
It's his first date with Julie Grigio and he's maybe made her almost-cry. Hard to tell.
On a whim, R reaches out and touches her cheek with a finger, grey against her pink, his nails still grubby because no matter what his Escort does, she's never been able to get years worth of grime and gore out. R tries to keep the worst of it from touching Julie's face as a matter of principle. Okay, don't poke her eye out. Not the best pep talk he's ever given himself. He's already committed to this.
He brushes against her eyelid, wiping away the barest hint of moisture. Tear? Wishful thinking? It's too hard to tell.
...Is she wondering about all the people she's lost? What if they could've been saved?
The thought rings in R's head, clear, cob-web free. His hand drops away from her face as he stares at her. Like everyone in the new world, she's lost people, and it wasn't just Perry. Some might've been saved from the infection but others...maybe not. R suddenly catches himself wondering about those, about the parts of Julie Grigio that Perry's never seen.
The appetizers arrive then on gorgeous porcelain plates. R's forgotten about food entirely, forgotten about the muzzle and the date. He shifts and gives Julie's hand a pat, aware the moment's fading.
no subject
And it spreads. One half-alive boy and her head spreads to those outlands around the stadium they could reclaim. The fact they wouldn't have to live in a goddamn stadium. Nora and her -- Jesus, her brother.
She takes her hand back and plops down in her seat. Even through this she can't forget that she's hungry all the damn time. Still, instead of eating she just picks at it on her little appetizer plate, watching him. "I'm glad you told me." Yeah, glad. Understatement of the year. "And the date's going well, so don't worry."
Tear aside and all. She's playing it off like that never happened.
no subject
He plays around with his own appetizer, swirling it around with his finger. He’s being daring and try to mix in raw steak with what might be sautéed asparagus and mushrooms. There’s probably some fancy name for the sauce that’s dripped over it, artsy and darting across the plate. Knowing his usual reaction to human food, R suspects he’ll be throwing it up later.
Or maybe not. With the Cure, who knows?
“Julie, I…” R opens his mouth after he’s choked down some of his own appetizer. He should bring up Perry now instead of sitting on it. But then he sees Julie look at him, expectant, and he loses his nerve again. His mouth flops, feeling particularly zombie-like today. “Wanted…say like…being…with you. Thank you.”
no subject
One of the best reasons to avoid the televisons. As much as she can, of course.
She chews the leafy bits of a piece of asparagus, soaked in juices and seasonings she doesn't even know the name of. Butter she recognizes; she remembers globs of it on baked potatoes at a cook-out. When people could hang out in a fenced off backyard and not have to worry if the barbed wire will hold.
Once she looks back up at him, she blinks. Flattery wars with that warm sense of, hell, embarrassment that he hasn't felt since Perry started flirting with her. She smiles, though, pleased and a hint flustered. "Yeah, me too." Maybe it's kind of nice, having a bit of freedom. No dad looking down to see if her new boyfriend was good with a Glock. Even if a very small, idiotically idealizing part of her wouldn't mind introducing them. (Thinking maybe Grigio's first reaction wouldn't be putting a bullet between his eyes.) "I mean, it... it helps. Being in there, knowing you are too."
Which is a shitty way to put it, but there you go. That's all she's got. Even if she lost Mom, she's always had someone. Dad, then Nora. Perry. Rosso. Now she has no way of knowing if they've survived the day.