Don't be ashamed, the body has needs.

[president_evil]

WHO| Wesker and OTA
WHAT| Dinner and a show.
WHERE| The Training Center Restaurant.
WHEN| Week 3ish
Warning/Notes| It's Wesker, consider yourself warned.



He didn't need it. Not traditionally speaking. The virus was a perfect, internal engine, humming in his veins. The chains of sleep, thirst, and hunger all but broken. (All but.) The Capitol even saw to his more - unconventional needs.

But it was a habit Wesker still occasionally enjoyed. The tactile experience of it - the taste and the smell. The weight of the knife in his hand, the thrust and tear. The color, a bright splash of red against a pale golden plate.

A feast for his senses, if not his body.

Seated at the best table, away from the central flow of traffic where he was less likely to be disturbed, he dined. Cutting into a steak so rare it wept a puddle of ruby as he cut into it. Bleeding out in time to the screams coming from the monitor set into the walls.

The Games, as ever, never far away.

Comments

[finnickohdear]

Finnick was trying to take a break, escape the Arena for a bit. Not that there was ever an actual escape. He wasn't expecting to run into many other people here, but of course he runs into one he knows he got off on the wrong foot with.

"Kind of cliche, don't you think?"

Okay, so maybe he wasn't eager to put himself back on the right foot just yet.

[president_evil]

Wesker had been aware of him - the Capitol's darling Finnick Odair - off to his left side, but he didn't feel any particular need for socializing.

He didn't even look up when Finnick spoke, cutting away a neat cube from his steak.

"How exhausting it must be, being you, with so very many things to complain about."

[finnickohdear]

The stoic response was admirable. It seemed he was hard to catch off guard.

"And yet somehow I manage to get up in the morning and complain about that too. I guess I'm just that good."

He set his food down across from Wesker. "Mind if I sit here? Good." He wasn't going to wait for an answer.

"I want to make sure you understand that I don't have anything against you because of where you're from."

[president_evil]

The knife paused, the pale fingers twitched on the metal - tightened - but then relaxed again and returned to his neat, precise cuts.

"Oh good," he purred, finally looking up as he dabbed the now free piece in the red juices. "I'll finally be able to sleep again."

Between his lips it went, disappear behind white teeth.

[finnickohdear]

Finnick ignored the sarcasm and kept going. This was only a conversation in the most technical sense, because even though both of them were talking, it was fairly obvious Finnick wasn't listening or accepting what Wesker said.

"It's just that I have a reputation to hold up here. And starting fights with outsiders doesn't fit into that. Not that I think you would be a gossip, I know you keep all personal slights against you to yourself until you can write them down in your tear stained diary, but we both know nothing in this city is truly private. I just want to be sure everyone knows that any dislike I have for you is strictly personal."

Finnick took a bite out of his sandwich. He wanted to show he wasn't intimidated by Wesker's eating habits.

[president_evil]

He wasn't used to being talked over, but given that what Finnick had to say meant so little, it was easier to swallow than one might have imagined.

He chewed slowly, watching silently from behind his glasses as Finnick prattled on.

"Does that mean we still can't be friends?" he asked while Finnick's mouth was full. (Would that reputation of his win out over spewing lettuce and bread crumbs all over the table?) "I was already planning a sleepover."

[finnickohdear]

Finnick snorted a laugh before he could swallow. It wasn't the most dignified gesture ever, but it was at least cleaner than spitting out his half chewed bite of sandwich.

"I'm not sure if you can afford a sleepover with me, actually. But I might be able to squeeze you in, just as long as you bring actual pajamas. Something tells me your idea of sleepwear is minimal at best."

Yes, Finnick was considering that Wesker slept nude, but that still might not be the worst part of their conversation so far.

[gluteus]

Maximus had just finished a grueling training regime and taken a long shower - both of them obvious in the twist of his muscle and the damp, short cropped hair upon his head. He was dressed simply, which the stylists let him get away with during his 'down' time, in nothing but a loose woolen tunic and a wide belt.

He was exceedingly hungry, and when he took his seat he was not expecting to have to share his meal with Wesker, of all people. Even after their supposed 'truce' the man was not one that he wanted to spend any time with. He attempted to ignore him, at first, but the cameras weren't showing any of his tributes - just unknown faces in agony - and it disgusted him.

So he let out a heavy sigh, and tried to be at least somewhat civil.

"Your tributes doing you proud?" He asked, trying not to make the question biting.

[president_evil]

Maximus.

Despite the disappointing turn of events, Wesker was still rather fond of Maximus. The man filled a hole left by Redfield.

Easy to provoke and endlessly entertaining.

"They live," Wesker replied, pushing a piece of steak through the bloody puddle on his plate. "And yours?" He dabbed the cube against the edge of the plate. "Growing accustomed to the empty suite?"

[gluteus]

The twitch nearly visible threw Maximus' stony expression, the muscles in his shoulders and his neck tensing.

He disliked something so important and personal to him being waved about like a toy on Wesker's tongue.

"They live," He answered, before smiling coldly. "Mine will never be quite as empty as yours, Victor."

Whether he meant Wesker's suite or his heart wasn't clear. (And likely didn't make a difference.)

[president_evil]

"Bold words so early in the Games," Wesker replied, the snip rolling over his shoulders like so much rain. Felt no harder and just as easily dismissed. "There's a long way to go yet."

He pulled the piece from the tines of the fork with his teeth and returned to cutting as he chewed and swallowed.

"Tell me, which do you think won't be joining us again?"

[gluteus]

"I wouldn't presume to tempt the fates," Maximus replied in a low rumble, his dislike of the man settling into his very bones.

"What comes, comes."

[president_evil]

"If it's truly fate that's at hand then one would presume their destines are already sealed." The silverware clinked, scraping the plate softly. "I don't think idle chit-chat will dissuade them."

[gluteus]

"I would have thought you would have seen enough of the Fates to know how fickle they can be if prodded," Maximus mused lowly.

"In the end, does it matter? We are all of us already dead."

[finnickohdear]

Finnick decided to come over and sit with someone at least mildly sane now that he'd dealt with Wesker for a bit. He spotted Maximus at another table and decided to try his luck a second time today. It couldn't possibly go worse, could it?

"I'm always glad to see a few normal rational people here. I'll still with the mermen and the gladiators."

[gluteus]

Maximus looked up from his plate to see Finnick, a man he'd never met but knew vaguely something of. He knew he was a mentor, at least, from a time before the foreign games. That was about the extent of it.

The mermen reference was lost entirely on him.

"I doubt I am often thought of as a man of the mind," Maximus said mildly, gesturing to a seat across the table.

[finnickohdear]

"Considering some of the 'masterminds' around here I'm fairly sure it's an overrated trait. The only thing that matters around here is survival."

He sat down and stared at the sandwich he had started and then lost interest in.

"Sorry. I'm Finnick. Finnick Odair, from District Four. I've been a mentor here since before you're time, but I'm still getting used to being in the Capitol trying to look after more tributes with less in common with me. I'm sure you can understand the challenge there."

[gluteus]

"Maximus Decimus Meridius," He offered in exchange, unsure how well known his name was to those that had previously held his title. "I represent District 3." Though he certainly wasn't from there.

"Certainly, I can understand the challenge. But I have found that a soldier's heart is the same, wherever he hails from." And a slave's heart, but that was another thing.

[finnickohdear]

Finnick nodded at the introduction, he might offer his hand if they weren't both trying to eat. "It's nice to meet you."

He can't help but smile at Maximus' other comments. "I think that may be the first time someone has even implied that I'm a soldier. I suppose it isn't too far off, I just haven't thought of myself in those terms before. Is that how you handle having so many tributes to look after?"

[savedbyasong]

Shion usually found places out of the way to sit. Not liking any attention, preferring to be out of the main group of people. He knew the point, if he wanted anyone to sponsor him, was to be noticed. But it was still a hard mindset to get into.

He blinked at Wesker, fear flickering through his eyes as he remembered their last meeting. But that had not been Wesker's fault, hadn't been anyone's fault if his escort was to be believed, just something going wrong with the technology the Capitol had used. His frightened look turned into a soft smile which faded again slightly when he saw the mans plate.

He realised he was staring and blinked, "Oh... hi..."

[president_evil]

"Are you addressing me?" Wesker replied, silverware clinking softly as he cut. "Or the steak?" He freed himself a bite-sized piece and pushed it through the juice, mopping red across the white plate. "If it's the latter, I'm afraid your too late."

Into his mouth it went, teeth pulling the soft, wet piece from the sharp tines.

[savedbyasong]

Shion blinked at him and it was a moment before he spoke, gathering words to him like they were physical things floating just out of reach. "I was addressing you Wesker." He finally said, looking away.

[president_evil]

"Merely checking," Wesker purred, cutting again, the edge of his knife winking in the warm light of the restaurant. "I wasn't sure."

More dabbing - soft, wet sounds.

"Does my meal offend you?"

[savedbyasong]

"No..." Shion tried to smile at him, "You can eat whatever you want." Though Shion felt sick at the idea of eating meat that rare, but Shion sometimes felt sick at the idea of eating plain bread.

"It is none of my business."

[president_evil]

Wesker's mouth curled as he chewed and swallowed.

Damn right it wasn't. (Especially when it could be so much worse.)

After a long pause - after watching him squirm lost it's appeal - he asked, "How are you, Shion? Happy to be back in the Capitol again?"

Sleeping well?