thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| Mentors, stylist, escorts, and anyone else keeping up with tributes in an official aspect.
What| The green room
Where| The tribute training center
When| start of the arena
Warnings/Notes| none inherent, tags thread subjects as needed.

The green room this round has been decorated with the sensibility of what would be, in our era, a turn of the century sitting room. Dark wood paneling, thick rich red velvet furniture, and plush red curtains drawn back over various monitors with heavy gold cords. Although the room is quiet large to contain so many people, it gives the impression of being intimate. The Avoxes, decked out in vaguely militaristic attire, serve food and drink in silver and crystal dishes, gold alcohol catching the light of the stained glass lamps around the room.

In the center of the room is a holographic projection of the arena, highlighting in flickering lights where each tribute is. Panels hidden discretely in the wood paneling can change the view of any of the screens so a mentor or stylist can pull up their own tribute, or one whom they would like to observe.

The projection can easily be shifted, with the flick of a hand, on to the person's own tablet, or even to be projected on one of the sitting tables placed around the room. On their screens other various information can be easily accessed: current odds, gossip, and even communication from potential bidders.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He takes it as a joke, because it must be a joke-- who in this room could possibly have looked away from that Cornucopia? Especially a Mentor (because he recognizes her, knows her from the sixty....? You're showing your age, Cecil), invested as they must be in the success of their Tributes.

He laughs, and glances between her and the central hologram with raised eyebrows and a grin. "Distracted already?" And with a conspiratorial lean in her direction-- "Or is it that you're so sure of the outcome that watching is the distraction?"

There's an invitation in there-- a nudge to share the predictions hiding under the joke, if she has them. Victor's bets-- now those are news.

She turns big, wide blue eyes on Cecil, slightly unfocused at first. Then she laughs in kind, joining in with him a beat slow, eyes focusing in on him.

"With the Cornucopia? Now, even I know better than to count my chickens before the eggs hatch."

Sixty-nine. The sixty-ninth hunger games, with the farm girl out of District 9. Who'd survived and fought in the city-block's worth of Arena: a whole new twist on the idea of the country girl coming to the big city.

He remembers her Arena. ...Well, he remembers most Arenas, but hers stands out - the urban desolation had been grim in a way most Arenas did not manage, grim to the part of being hard to merchandise. It had taken color out of the Capitol, he remembers that-- a month of fashion painted in streaks of gray, interrupted only by occasional blinking neon.

He remembers her, as well-- not quite so clearly (he's seen more Victors than he's willing to admit to in public), but she'd been a story at the time. District 9. His grin stretches as memory turns to familiarity.

"Oh, come on," he says, bright, friendly, familiar-- "You must be rooting for someone in there. There are plenty of eggs that remain unbroken!"

"Like Humpty Dumpty, before the big fall?"

She laughs, like it's another joke to invite him in on. "Of course I'm rooting for someone. Really, rooting for a lot of someones! What's a Mentor going to do other than root for the people standing in for where we're from?"

Of course, it's in glancing back to the screen that there's a flash and replay of Harley, losing control of herself as her brain was -- well. Barbara slides her eyes right back off the screen. "I've got Donny and Mindy and Ruby, to start, Jean's a nice kid, new to the whole thing, and that's just a place to start. Have you met many of the Tributes? There sure are some swell people in the Arena now, and some of them are bound to be talented, too!"

He laughs warmly at her joke. Humpty Dumpty! He'll have to remember that.

Her glance at the tablet escapes his notice entirely. Cecil is focused on his own tablet, pulling up the list of Tribute profiles, and by the time he looks back to her - wide-eyed and interested - she's already looked away.

"As it happens, I haven't met many of the Tributes." His tone makes clear that this is not for any lack of desire on his part. "In fact, I have yet to meet any. My job used to involve reporting from... more of a distance." He proffers the tablet to her, giving her space to touch it where he can see what she selects-- "Why don't you show me your favorites? I'm always on the lookout for talent."

"What for?" she asks with a laugh, letting it pas as either a tease or the honest seeming, if thoughtless, question it appeared to be. "What's your job like now, hmm? Wanting to get down on a Tribute level... makes a girl mighty curious what you're looking for!"

She takes the tablet, brow furrowing as she considers the controls. Barbara knows the art of not appearing to know how to operate this kind of equipment, calling up one of the District 9 Tributes and managing to do a super zoom in on their feet.

"How do you make this dang thing work...!"

"...Allow me," Cecil says, gently brushing her hand aside to flip between Tributes with a flick of his fingers. Barbara's reputation is structured almost entirely around her victory - he wonders if that particular Arena had, perhaps, lent itself well to the strategies of a... a slower Tribute.

"As for my job..." He's still excited to get to talk about this, still likes the way the words sound as he speaks them-- "I am the host of a soon-to-air radio program, and any news that involves Tributes - their thoughts, their actions, their allegiances; past, present, and future - is of great interest to me." His grin includes her in this - she's a past Tribute, after all! The Arena defines her, in Cecil's mind, every bit as much as any of the contestants on the screen between them. ...Which is still on District 9's feet. "Your thoughts, as well-- in fact, if you just. Want to tell me your thoughts, that... that would be fine."