I don't like walking around this old and empty house.

[the_marshal]

WHO| Wyatt and Semi-OTA (Open physically to anyone with him in District 10, with some preset threads for Howard and Max in the comments.)
WHAT| Bb gets with the times.
WHERE| District 10
WHEN| A day or two after arriving in the Districts.
Warnings/Notes| Some mild swearing perhaps? Edit: Two clueless gents flirting over the skype equivalent below. You are warned. Edit edit: It went a bit beyond flirting. Gird yourself.



Wyatt had made a promise to Howard, and he was determined to keep it. After settling in as best as he could in their temporary housing, he dug out his communicator and set about trying to get the thing to work.

At one of the heavy, thick-cut tables in the dining room, he moved his fingers over the keys just as he remembered watching Howard do -- and somehow set off a bell, a shrill alarm that cut through the quiet of the late morning like a knife through warm butter. Quickly, he clapped his hands over it and stabbed another button, managing to silence it out of sheer luck.

Glancing around, he nodded in apology to those at the nearest tables - trying to ignore the heat threatening to curl around the back of his neck - and tried again.

That time he nearly blinded himself.

Wiping the bright flash from his eyes, cursing lowly to himself, he dropped the device on the table and leaned back in his chair in defeat.

Time to consider a re-approach.

Comments

[pillowmania]

"It's pretty obvious," he said, cracking a lopsided grin. Banter. Now that's something he didn't get every day.

He offered his hand across the table, palm exposed.

"Back in Ten, we use little machines like this to, you know, coordinate feeding times, record work hours, things like that. With that alarm of yours, you might've just told someone that you're calling in sick."

But Wyatt, didn't, of course -- this was more joking, more banter. His hands trembled slightly, as though the positive interaction were a strain on his system. And it was.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt frowned, and passed the little box over into Katurian's palm, arms folding over his chest once both his hands were free. The wooden chair creaked as he shifted, obviously uncomfortable with his lack of understanding.

"I was jus' tryin' to get a hold of somebody. Another tribute, in a different district."

[pillowmania]

"I'll teach you" he said. "It's not difficult." He gave a shrug, although the movement was so stiff, so awkward that it looked more like a twitch. He kept his eyes focused on the communicator. Rather than drag it closer to him, he reoriented it on the table so that the screen faced Wyatt.

"Now. Which buttons were you using?"

[the_marshal]

Wyatt blew a breath out through his nose - not unlike one of the many bulls the District had to offer - and leaned forward, arms uncrossing.

"He tried to show me before..." he started to admit, but he cut himself off and reached out to tap the device instead. "These ones."

It had been harder to do on his own than he'd anticipated and he felt like a fool for it.

[pillowmania]

Katurian hesitated a beat, then pushed the communicator closer to Wyatt. He stood up and rounded the table, approaching the other man. He would guide him like a music instructor guiding a pupil, directing the other man's muscles with gentle pushes. He would be the teacher. He was always good at this.

He offered his hand forward, not wanting to touch Wyatt without permission.

(This already felt so natural.)

"May I?"

[the_marshal]

Wyatt raised an eyebrow, glancing from Katurian's face to the hand and then back again - surprised. Had anyone ever asked before?

(Max. Max, though there hadn't been words. Just the look in his eyes and the hesitation of his fingers.)

He shrugged, eyebrow settling, and nodded his head toward the table.

"Go on."

[pillowmania]

Katurian's earlier trembling had dissipated. When he took Wyatt's hand, his grip was steady. Gentle. He moved the other man's fingers from button to button, bending the joints like slow motion dancers. Each step had a number or mnemonic. He repeated them for Wyatt softly, patiently, his voice only a few degrees above a whisper.

They were the same mnemonics he had taught his brother all those years ago.

[the_marshal]

It was awkward at first, Wyatt's hands tense and rough beneath Katurian's. Uncomfortable with how child-like it made him feel, how foolish. But slowly, knowing how badly he wanted to learn, how he wanted to keep his promise to Howard, he relaxed and did his damnedest to absorb.

Before long he was muttering Katurina's little rhyme's under his breath. The man's quick, clever words in his slow, easy drawl as he tapped buttons in time.

[pillowmania]

When it was over, Katurian stepped backwards and offered another smile. It was a strange moment, both familiar and unfamiliar all at once, and Katurian wished he could stay in it forever. Let him be a normal person from District 10. Let him be a friendly face.

Let him live with something other than fear.

"There," he said. "That should do it."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt 'hurrumphed' quietly, the hair of his mustache wriggling slightly, but the sound was directed more at himself than Katurian.

He'd heard that before.

"If it ain't, I'll be sure an' look ya up," he murmured, repeating the man's little poem back to himself inside his head as his fingers moved over the screen.

It was something like magic when it did what he wanted it to.

[pillowmania]

He pictured Wyatt finding his apartment, that cramped and dark space. He pictured Penny's eyes, sharp like knives.

"Please don't," he said, the words escaping his lips before he could stop them. He cringed at his own mistake and began to dig through his pockets. Fear fueled his muscles. Shame curled itself around his spinal cord.

When his hand emerged with an apple, he was trembling again.

"I'm sorry I didn't send you anything last arena," he said, placing the fruit down on the wooden table. An offering. "It isn't -- I lead a very private life, a very private life, and sometimes I don't -- I mean, I can't -- "

He pat the table with his palm, grounding himself.

"You're better off asking another Tribute. Next time."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt stared at him, a long, silent moment, the blue eyes steady and unblinking on Katurian's face. One thing the two versions seemed to share, he decided, just how very odd they were.

Like a rangy mutt, cagey and half-wild. Ready to bite the hand feeding it.

"My apologies," he said finally, leaning back in his chair, putting a small, but decisive space between them. "I'll remember that."

He turned back to the device, moved his fingers over the screen again. "I thank ya for yer help."