thecapitol | Life's my light and liberty and I shine when I wanna shine;

"While I'm not sure who Durin is, I can tell you where in his name you are." Chris appeared seemingly out of nowhere, the labyrinth of municipal buildings was his wheelhouse, after all. "But first, tell me where you think you are."

It was like a bad troll-under-the-bridge situation. Not that Chris was looking for a particular answer, he only wanted to tailor his help to best suit the strange man's purposes here. Except -- wasn't he a tribute? Chris' smile only grew.

"Kili," he announced, pointing at his face. Why would a tribute be in this building, though? No matter, he just went on smiling. "Your hair looks amazing today. Did you do something different?"

What? Where had this man come from? Kili glanced around, unsure of how a mere man had snuck past his senses. Then again, mountain trolls had gotten past his watch so he supposed he should not have truly been all that surprised. Still, he knew Thorin would be sorely disappointed to find that his theoretically scout-worthy nephew had been distracted by cheese crackers and a map. Just as Kili opened his mouth to answer, Chris continued with his name. How did...?

Simply standing in the man's presence, however, was almost overwhelming, especially with the intensity of the finger pointing. Was this some strange custom of men that he had never seen before? Kili canted his head away from Chris, as if trying to reduce the nearly blinding level of attention.

"I did," Kili answered slowly, one hand moving up to the dual braids on the right side of his head. "The stylists did. Think it'll make me look more intimidating."

Swallowing, he went back to the first question, holding up the sheet of paper between them. The front side had not been filled out at all, as Kili could hardly read such tiny words.

"I'm looking to turn this in but I've lost my way." Kili pointed back at the map on the wall before scooping up a couple cheese crackers. Y'know. Just in case he might stay lost forever.

"Intimidating..." He thinks about this while he plucks the piece of paper out of Kili's hand and tilts his head. What are these curious symbols, he wonders. They are marvelous, but they mean absolutely nothing to him. "Do you think they're intimidating?"

Chris would have gone with 'handsome' or 'attractive' or 'becoming,' but he wants to gauge the man's self-esteem first as he skims the form for its purpose. He's distracted, however, by whatever manner of snack the man had brought along and he blinks as he watches the man eat crackers of a disturbingly orange color.

"Do you know that almost none of those crackers' components are actually food?" But even he could admit they were yummy, still. He goes back to reading over the form with a frown. "Also, this is a permit to park against traffic. I'm almost 100% certain you were looking for something else."

Edited (subject lines are for losers) 2014-03-06 21:33 (UTC)

That's a good question, really, as Kili isn't quite sure himself about whether or not the braids look intimidating or not. Certainly not by dwarven standards, but he the capitol doesn't really follow dwarven traditions or really care much about them. Everything here is confusing and far too bright, it's disorienting in comparison not only to home but the darkness of the Arena as well.

"'m not sure, really," Kili shrugs as Chris looks over the paper. Such a strange man and so excited for everything. He makes Kili look like a sullen rain cloud in comparison and he's known to be inappropriately bright and cheery through thick and thin.

"It's what?" he frowns up at both the news that the sheet of paper isn't what he thought it was and his crackers. Glancing back down at the bag, he plucks another cracker up to munch on. No, they taste like food. Chris must have found some very good pipeweed here in the Capitol.

"Well, I like them," Chris settles on finally, handing the paper back to Kili. "What were you looking for? Perhaps I can help you with the process."

Though this was nowhere near close to his job, Chris delighted in helping people, especially tributes. Though he's tempted to smack the crackers out of his hand, he won't. Maybe he's just feeling a little peckish himself, he had skipped his mid-mid-afternoon protein shake.

"...Could I try one of those?" Yep, he's all in. No turning back now, #yolo.

At long last, Kili smiles up at Chris at the compliment. It seems genuine enough and it's not the strange fawning some of the more green-haired residents of the Capitol did. This he much prefers. Without hesitation, he holds up the little bag of crackers to Chris.

"I was told there's a form I can fill out to leave the games." His smile slowly dims, but his eyes remain bright with an unabashed hopefulness. Of course, he knows that it's selfish to want out, that if everyone tried to fill out this form, there would be no tributes left to kill for entertainment.

Chris bites into the disturbingly orange cracker, though he very nearly chokes on it a second later. Is he dying? No, there's just a Cheez-it blocking his airflow. He coughs, then swallows, looking mucho concerned.

"These are delicious, but why do you want to leave the Games? You were doing so well!" He takes another cracker, willpower be damned. "These must be loaded with rBST, but they are good."

Kili's eyes go wide as Chris chokes, any hint of a smile dropping right off his face. Just as the dwarf is about to turn and call for help, though, Chris speaks and takes another cracker. Well, that seems a positive enough sign that the man isn't about to die right in front of him.

The mention of the Games, however, leaves him watching Chris a bit sourly.

"I..." he replies, eyebrows furrowed. All the tributes he'd talked to so far skirted the issue of speaking on their deaths and he's no exception. Saying it out loud would only force him to think about it and he'd rather not do that right now.

Thankfully, Chris is quite good at distracting.

"What's that?" he asks, not sure what arbeeesstee could possibly be.

"Recombinant bovine somatotropin?" he asks back as if it's the most rudamentary knowledge on the planet. And then he realizes that he's not only talking to a tribute, but a tribute not from Panem in origin. "Oh," Chris restarts, less patronizing and more open.

He smiles, reaching a hand out for Kili's shoulder. "You must be exhausted from wandering this place alone. Let's find somewhere to sit." Even though Chris prefers to stay upright and moving 90% (the other 10% he's upside down and moving), he does recognize that others do occasionally get tired.

Locating a bench, he leads Kili to it gently so he can explain rBST and then, and only then, can they get into possibly getting the paperwork to get Kili removed from the games.

"Do you have cows in your country, Kili?"

Recombinataentolt what what is about all Kili got from Chris's mouth initially. He blinks up at him, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to process even one word of that. It's quite unsuccessful, but he finds some small measure of reassurance in Chris leading him to a bench. He sighs openly with relief once he sits down. While dwarfs are quite hardy creatures, they are sprinters more than long-distance runners and endurance is not exactly their forte.

Kili sits down with a small smile as he plucks a muffin from his jacket pocket to accompany the cheese crackers. After all, he's trying to make sure he doesn't starve.

"Yes, though we dwarves don't use them much," he replies with a cheerful enough expression, though he still hopes that recontinant bees sokatorphin isn't some sort of poison.

"Dwarves. Is that why..." He puts his hands behind his ears indicatively, then shrugs as they drop. That question is never getting finished - it's not polite. And now the point seems kind of moot when the self-proclaimed dwarf pulls out a muffin that was clearly loaded with preservatives. Still, it's his civic duty to try. "Rbst is a manmade growth hormone given to cows to make them produce more milk. And you don't-" Have the first clue of what I'm talking about.

Chris breathes out through his mouth and looks at Kili's writing on the back of the form. "Is this Dwarvish?" he asks brightly, knowing he should be educating this Tribute, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about that now. He even takes another cracker as he waits for the answer with a little nod of thanks. He would get this dwarf out of the games if it was his last bureaucratic action.

Oh no Kili is quite alright with nodding along. Dwarven ears are much bigger than those belonging to humans, but almost everything is larger since they are in much more condensed forms. More burly, bigger ears, longer beards, square feet, those are the traits that typify his kind. He goes about munching on his muffin as he listens to the explanation and raises his eyebrows when Chris stops in the middle.

Still, the question about the script on the back is more than enough of a distraction for him.

With another nod and a half-filled mouth of muffin, " 's Cirth." The C is pronounced like a hard k, which of course results in a burst of muffin bits from the dwarf's mouth.

"We speak Khuzdûl," he continues before he pauses, to give a few sharp hand gestures. "... is Iglishmêk."

"I would love to learn, it is the most beautiful language I have ever heard." He cants his head. "What does it say?"

Kili keeps smiling along until Chris requests to learn and then his expression takes on an apologetic light.

"I can't," he shakes his head slowly. "It's a secret language, mostly. My uncle would have my head if he heard I'd taught a man Khuzdûl."

"Oh, my. That's delightful. I completely understand." A beat. "But if you're the only ones who can read it..." Do you see the flaw in turning this in now, bud?

"Just give me a general idea of what you want to say. I'll translate into my own secret language called 'beaurocrat.' It's what everyone in this building speaks."

Life's my light and liberty and I shine when I wanna shine;

i will get to the cheezits

yes good

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