thecapitol | (no subject)

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WHO| Wyatt and Alpha, then anyone else who wants in
WHAT| Training
WHEN| A few days before the new arena
WHERE| Training Center
WARNING/NOTES| Wyatt and Alpha do not get on. No, they do not. (Or that's the plan at any rate.)

Prior to coming to the Capitol, Wyatt's experience with trapping had been limited to what he'd overheard during drunken exchanges between pelters at the saloon, and during lockup while said dried out. But, turned out, that'd had more of an impression that he'd ever thought. To his surprise, he had something of a knack for it.

Bill woulda been so proud.

Smirking as he crouched in one of the training room's small woodland stations - imagining Bill's face if and when he ever got home - he practiced tying snares, his big hands moving far more slowly, more delicately, than he'd ever imagined they could.

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Once Alpha had considered the Dollhouse to be the epitome of ridiculous excess. Obviously, he was now reevaluating this belief. They even had even more insufferable people populating the place, without the excuse of 'treatments'.

Though the other Tributes, now those were interesting. From a variety of different worlds, or so it was claimed, and they seemed to believe it themselves. But of course, that didn't necessarily mean it was true. Alpha had yet to track down anything similar to the Dollhouse tech so he was forced to pursue a certain theory through watching the other Tributes.

Wyatt Earp, for instance, was very interesting, since unless these people had time-traveling technology along with everything else, he was most definitely a fake. The question Alpha pondered as he finally tracked down the man in the Training Center, was whether he knew was a fake or not.

It wasn't unusual to have company while in the Training room. The wardens - peace something or other - were always there, as were the trainers, and occasionally the Gamemakers themselves. Wyatt had eventually learned to tolerate them and put on a pair of mental blinders to their presence.

But, this? Another tribute?

One who was eyeballin' him as if he couldn't decide whether Wyatt was fish or fowl?

Well, that was something all together different.

Holding a loose knot between the fore-finger and thumb of one hand, he reached up with the other and, looking back over his shoulder, tipped his hat as politely as he could manage by way of greeting.

With any luck he'd get bored and mosey on along with his business.

Edited 2012-10-29 15:33 (UTC)

Alpha grinned, tipping an imaginary hat right back at him. This was just adorable. Either he was an incredibly devoted actor or this Capitol definitely had Dollhouse tech on hand. Alpha rather hoped it was the latter, since that would make things much easier for him in the long run, and in the meantime the likes of Mr. Earp were sure to keep him entertained.

"Hoping for rabbits or a bigger game?" he asked, putting just a bit of a Western twang in his words. He couldn't resist.

If the accent was meant to incense, it slipped off Wyatt like water off a duck's back. By now he was well used to being mocked: genially by his stylists and rudely by Thasetaus.

And who knew, this fellow could have been from the same place, if not time. Like Eliot.

The thin line slipped down over his callused fingers and he caught it between his nails, tugging the loop tight.

"Doesn't much matter one way or the other, so long as it's edible," he replied, not looking up from his task.

Alpha raised his eyebrows, still amused. "Either we're talking about something completely different, or you're a much fiercer competitor than I gave you credit for," he said. He was reasonably certain the so-called Wyatt Earp was genuinely talking about catching animals, not fellow Tributes, but then, who knew how a place like that could change a person? Well, aside from Alpha, who knew?

Wyatt's hands paused, the small frown that pulled at his mouth hidden.

"Don't know about where you come from, but where I came from people aren't for eatin'."

Period. The end.

He resumed, finishing the snare by carefully setting the trip and pulling his hands back, one reaching down by his boot for the stick he'd been using to test his efforts.

Edited 2012-10-29 18:08 (UTC)

"That depends on whether you're speaking figuratively or theoretically," he said, and added a casual, "And where is that, exactly? Where you're from?"

Wyatt was starting to get the feeling he wasn't going to like this man much. Somethin' about that stare, that smile... it was like lookin' at a mad coyote.

"Kansas," he replied, tickling the end of the stick along the snare. "Dodge City."

Normally this was where he would ask where he return the question, but, no. He rather thought he'd like to see this conversation end.

"Course you are," Alpha nodded, two historians, a Western fanatic, and an actual cowboy corroborating this fact in his head. "I'm from--"

Alabama

England

San Francisco

New Jersey

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

"--nowhere near as interesting," he finished after a noticeable pause, tamping down hard on the flood before it could continue.

The pause was so long, Wyatt actually looked up, eyebrow raising.

Did he forget? Was he that bad at lying?

"Oh, I don't know 'bout that," he said, curiousity getting the better of him. "Most everyone I've met has their own thrilling tale."

Once he felt in control Alpha flashed him a big smile once more, with a little bit of an irritated edge to it, not necessarily directed towards Wyatt. He'd been doing so well with keeping things in his head when in the company of others, and then he'd gone and invited that damned ex-FBI agent...well, Alpha wasn't one to dwell.

"Oh, well, I never said I wasn't interesting," he said. "I like to think I can liven up a party when I need to."

Wyatt pulled with his stick, tugging the snare closed, the loop closing tight - in what would hopefully be a strangling grip on anything that got caught out in the arena.

Pleased, he dropped the stick and began the process of dismantling.

"And you are?" he asked idly as he worked.

Alpha opened his mouth to lie before he remembered that his name was public record. "Alpha," he said instead. He supposed he should be grateful they didn't use...that other man's name. " I just go by Alpha. And you--you're Wyatt Earp, right? Like the Old West gunslinger."

Wyatt frowned. There were a bunch of words there he didn't necessarily agree with.

"I'd prefer 'gunfighter,' iffin you had to use one," he replied, thinking to himself that he didn't much like that one either, but people here did insist on callin' him all sorts of things. "But, yes." He finished and slowly rose out of his crouch to stand. "That's me."

"Gunfighter, gunslinger, lawman, all amounts to about the same," Alpha shrugged, watching Wyatt carefully. "So I guess you were already used to the fame before you came here, unlike some of the rest." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Famous specifically for a bloody battle to the death, even."

That this stranger knew about what happened with Dora and Kenedy, didn't surprise him. It was true the name Wyatt Earp had been fairly well known amongst the cowtowns and cattle trails, and even if it hadn't been, the story still would've gotten 'round - thanks to Buntline.

Buntline and his damn books.

"I ain't never killed anyone that left me another choice," Wyatt said, voice gone low, his eyes hard. "And that includes Spike Kenedy."

"Oh, I can't imagine there were too many crying for the likes of Spike Kenedy," said Alpha easily, enjoying this far too much. "Men killing women? Disgraceful." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Not a lot of people know about Spike Kenedy, you know. Not exactly the first thing that comes to mind when your name pops up."

Wyatt's eyes narrowed. Whatever game this stranger was up too, he'd had enough.

"Well then, why don't you stop pussy-footin' around and come on out and accuse me straight."

Then they could settle this. One way or 'nother.

"Accuse?" said Alpha, infusing his voice with false offended outrage. "I'm a fan! Hell, I'm a fan five times over. Every little boy spends part of his childhood wishing he was a gunslinger in the Old West." He made a gun with his hand and mimed shooting it off in Wyatt's direction. "Of course, still haven't decided if I'm a fan of you or your acting skills," he added, his grin widening to show some teeth.

Wyatt's physically pulled back, head tipping as his nose wrinkled in confusion. "Acting skills?"

"Yeah," Alpha shrugged eloquently. "You're very convincing. I mean, you haven't really 'wowed' me just yet, it could still go either way." He leaned a shoulder against a tree, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets and examined Wyatt once again.

"You certainly look the part, but do you really believe you're Wyatt Earp or are you just very invested in your character. Trust me, I'm experienced with both sides of that particular coin and I just can't tell yet with you."

Wyatt blinked, feeling damn near buffaloed.

"You think I'm lyin'?" he replied, eyebrows shootin' up, unsure how to feel about it.

This Alpha feller thought he was lyin' about who he was!

"Lying, hopelessly delusional, brainwashed. Really, there's a multitude of possibilities here." There were even a couple parts of Alpha still vying for time-travel, but frankly he had his limits.

"How's about," Wyatt shifted, his boots should-with apart, his hands settle lightly on his belt, "I am who I say am, and we leave it at that, friend, before you go on and get yerself in trouble."

"That's a horrible thing to say to me," he said, a part of Alpha hoping desperately for Wyatt to tip up his hate with one finger. "I am, among many, many other things, practically compelled to throw myself into trouble when given the chance." He waved a hand airily. "It's an illness, really. I am downright attracted to trouble, even! And you," he pointed his finger at Wyatt, in a faux-gun gesture because why not? "--you are kinda screaming trouble right now."

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