thecapitol | New kind of victory.

New kind of victory.

Who| Everyone on the District Tours.
What| The Celebration dinners for all the Districts.
Where| Specified in thread.
When| The second night they are there.
Warnings/Notes| Find your district below. Leave any questions here. And please add any needed warning into your subject line when appropriate.

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How many of those children later smiled even slightly when Harley eventually liquidated her upstairs assets unwillingly in the Arena was a mystery neither woman would solve. That was for the future. For the new, Barbara let the boy down, patting a few shoulders and nodding her head toward the group of adults who were paying more attention to what they were up to.

"Say goodbye to Harley for now, you all, I see a few parents with earlier bedtimes in mind. Early to bed, early to rise, makes all of us in District Nine --"

A chorus of young voices, some stronger, some weaker, finish out the saying. "Work ready and wise!" A few giggle, while others look relieved, tired nerves starting to edge on toward crankiness no one really wanted to deal with in a place like this. Barbara motions for Harley to move with her as she herds the children back to their waiting parents, all smiles and slow hand motions and firm answers for the ones settling into asking why.

Harley follows the gestures with no hesitation, having long since decided she liked this mentor. Barbara was so different from Eva that it actually made Harley wonder why she was trying so hard to get Eva to like her.

Then she reminded herself that she had so far enjoyed a long proud career as a door mat for people who weren't very nice to her and it all made sense.

Back to the moment she helps to herd the children as well, snatching up one particularly rambunctious boy who had tried to hide behind a table and passing him directly into the arms of his father. The boy responded by sticking his tongue out at her, and being the totally mature grown up adult woman that she was...Harley returned the gesture in kind.

Barbara gave the father a look of sympathy. The small shrug of her shoulders was a "who knows?" gesture to follow up on Harley's response in kind to a toddler.

She can yet again see why Eva considered the children's market a place to poise Harley, much as she can see the unpredictable elements. Harley was whimsical. Whimsical was only good as long as it was contained within certain boundaries, where it could be relatively harmless.

With the parents leaving, Barbara touched Harley's upper arm. It was light, followed by a nod of her head back toward the tables laid out with food.

"Try one of the custard things yet?"

"Custard things?" Harley spun about to face Barbara with an excited smile. "Lead the way!" She wrapped her surprisingly strong arms around Barbara's so she could be led.

"You know...after so long with Eva I was starting to worry that none of the mentors really liked me. I'm glad you decided to come back...or were forced. Whatever."

Barbara smiled, eyes on the custard prize as she led Harley back to the tables. "Couldn't leave Eva to do all the work on her own forever, could I?" Mentors weren't meant to really like or dislike people, once it came down to the Arena, but they were just that: people. People who spent enough time around each other formed opinions for the better and worse.

With Tributes who didn't stay dead, and Games that never ended, for the people who were held responsible for how well or poorly those Tributes did, liking and not liking them took on a different dimension.

She reached out, plucking one yellow custard off the table and offering it over to Harley. "I think this one's corn pudding." Savory rather than sweet.

Another gasp of pure delight as she accepted the prize like it was a rare treasure.

"I had no idea you could make puddin' out of corn!" She declared before pushing the whole thing into her mouth and letting the flavor wash over her. Her lips curled into a pleased smile as she chewed, and savored the savory.

Barbara eats hers with less relish. "You'd be amazed just what you can make out of corn." Alcohols, sugars, puddings, breads, animal foods, fuel for some vehicles... she took another bite. "You can even make dolls out of the husks."

Harley cackled delightedly, "You're a regular corn cultist." But she was absolutely having another one.

"How about moonshine?" She added, "Did you ever indulge in that time honored tradition of hill people and farm folks making high octane booze to make ya blind?"

"Can't say we do," she said with a shake of her head. "'sall too well accounted for. We do the booze-makin', but it's all proper like, and automated. If we had longer out here, maybe they would take you by one of the breweries, or the wineries too."

Harley pulled a face. "It's a good thing I was born in my world and brought here. I don't think this world woulda let me get to be as fun as I am with such tight butts about the rules."

"No," Barbara agreed, musing and not quite as cheerful. "I don't think you would have been."

Harley would more likely have been very, very dead, if she was lucky.

Harley wasn't so sure about that, she had another mental image in mind.

"I can see it now, Dr. Harleen Quinzel, ruthless and power hungry. Maybe I'd get a job analyzing tributes mental health conditions or something." While she sounded like the concept left a bad taste in her mouth she had managed to make it sound tolerable by her own standards.

"How ANY of you came through the games with your sanity in one piece is a miracle really."

Barbara laughed out loud at that one. "Who says any one of us is sane?"

"The guys on TV who like to pretend this is all in good fun." Harley teased "And anyone who can't see past the smiles and masks of wisdom and competence that Mentors have strapped on."

She winked with a giggle.

Barbara snorted, shaking her head. "Oh, they know. They just like waiting for the breakdowns, if they're coming."

A knowing smile slid onto Harley's face.

"So when did you have your first breakdown?"

Because she couldn't imagine getting through the games without at least one, you'd have to be crazy.

"Watch the recording," she said with a snort, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't remember, but they do."

"Oh come on, you never forget your first time." Harley giggled and then added "Well unless you were a heavy drinker. But you don't strike me as the type."

Of course Harley knew that depression and alcoholism didn't necessarily have a type in extreme cases like this but it still made for a good line.

"Besides hearing about it from the patients mouth is always more fun then watching a video. Then I have to pick through all the editing and the opinions of the film crew."

"That might be the case, Dr. Quinn, but as luck may have it, so far I'm not the patient. Just the Mentor!" She winked, straightening up and stretching. "One with a bit of business to finish wrestling with before we get where we're going. If you ever get curious, they've got most games on file. I've got all of them!"

Even the ones that were mostly "lost" to time.

Anyway, by business, she meant heading toward the Mayor for a final farewell from the feast.

Edited 2014-02-20 04:47 (UTC)

"Oh fine." Harley pulled a pout "I see how it is."

Then she grinned and gave a wave. "I might hold you to that though. A grim and gruesome viewing party of peoples most miserable moments might be fun in the right mood."

"We'll call it a bonding activity!" She tossed out over her shoulder. "Catch up with you later!"

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New kind of victory.

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