[Open] What a diff'rence a day makes

[silberfuchs]

WHO| Albert and you
WHAT| General open log of training and meeting people
WHEN| Backdated to Yesterday, before the races
WHERE| Training center, on the town, ending at District 3 suites.
WARNINGS| Possible/probable talk of violence and death, also gooey disgusting shippy feels


One // Training Center

It's not unusual for Albert to be an early riser but given his habits since arriving in the capitol it would be hard to tell. Since his death in the arena, unless he has a specific appointment of some time, Albert's spent most of his morning hours attempting to go back to sleep and not have to think about much of anything really. Of course he'd get restless by noon and finally get up and around, but that small success would usually be facilitated by Jet prodding him in the side until he either swatted the blond or groused his way from the sheets for a shower and shave and maybe coffee.

Today, however, sees the German up with the sun and already on a treadmill in the training center by the time most people are starting to stir in their beds. He spends the morning there, cycling through the different equipment in a general work out. It's more difficult than it should be but the burn is good, he's glad for it. It's been so long since he had to bother with his own physical fitness that having to actually work on it makes him feel all the more alive.

His last stop in his several hours spent in the gym is the weapons training area. Still no firearms, he notes with a bit of a let down, but a combat knife he can do with. Sometime soon he'll need to learn something new, long range preferably, but he knows what to do with a knife and it's a good place to start brushing up.

Or at least, he thinks he knows what to do with a knife. His movements are all precision and strength but his stance is too solid for quick movement. He holds his blade in reverse too, which he's clearly used to, but is likely the least effective way considering his chopping motions at the test dummies. He seems used to it, though, strangely...



Two // Out and about in the Capitol

After a shower and a bite, Albert's decided to brave the city proper on a personal quest. His stylist thankfully hasn't gone off the rails and Albert's actually somewhat pleased with his ensemble considering the sort of thing it could have been. He does don a pair of aviator shades the second he tracks them down, though. His eyes are unnaturally light and being out in such a bright and reflective city has him needing the protection.

If anyone happens to run into Albert, he's casually perusing different shops, just out for a walk or some air. He does seem to be visiting a much higher percentage of jewelry stores though...



Three // District 3 suites

With only a few business cards in his pocket and one small purchase after his trip downtown, Albert ends up back on his own floor for once, wanting to squirrel away his findings before a certain someone gets nosy about where he was all day. He's long since gotten used to finding no one else in the common area of the floor, given that Jessica apparently lives in bed or is out and the rest of the District 3 residents he's seen hide nor hair of, so he just walks right in like he owns the place, even whistling. After all, despite any hiccups, it's been a good day.

((ooc: Log is open for everyone! I know I poked quite a few people on the plot meme so feel free to start up anything we talked about here if we didn't have other plans.))

Comments

[pillowmania]

Katurian was also dressed in dark clothing, his eyes hidden beneath a pair of thick goggles that appeared to be torn from a gas mask. He was en route to Peacekeeper Headquarters when he crossed paths with Albert. At first, he thought nothing of him -- in fact, he barely noticed him. (Katurian preferred to avoid looking for faces in public because he never knew when he would encounter an unwelcome one.) That changed, however, when a particularly irresponsible bicyclist shot up from the street and onto the sidewalk, causing the pedestrians (Katurian included) to scramble to avoid getting hit.

He slammed directly into Albert.

[silberfuchs]

As slight of build as the other man is, Albert doesn't stumble far even with Katurian barreling into him to avoid the cyclist. Instead his hands immediately go to the man's shoulders to steady him. "Woah, are you alright?"

[pillowmania]

It was true; Katurian was small, slight, and although the collision wasn't very hard, he feels the impact rattle his insides.

(The stranger's touch rattles his insides, too.)

He scrambles backwards like a cat startled by a noise or a criminal caught in the act. Albert has a face that he recognizes, but only slightly. Tributes are, after all, celebrities. Celebrities never look quite right in real life.

"I"m fine," he says, and then, with barely a breath in-between: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-- I did not intend to do that."

His goggles were knocked crooked in the crash. He straightens them with trembling hands.

[gardienne]

But someone is there in the District Three suite today. Having allowed herself to be prinked by one of the Stylists, with fake hair and fake teeth and a really good skin scrubber, Eponine is sat demurely on the sofa in one of the ruffly dresses she had been coaxed into. She's trying to look like a good Tribute, reading the alphabet book that the Capitol had provided for her in her welcome back pack, and practising her letters, but her doodles of flowers and the frequent rustle of sweet papers being open and shoved down the back of the sofa cushions gives her away.

When Albert comes in, Eponine looks up from her 'work' immediately.

"Who are you?" she asks, bluntly.

[silberfuchs]

"Oh, I didn't know anyone else would be here." He makes his way to the kitchen first to put his purchase in the fridge for later, planting a helpful little 'Do Not Eat' sign on it before he shuts the door. "I'm Albert Heinrich, I was brought here in the midst of last arena as a tribute. You are... Eponine, yes?"

They'd aired something about her a little while ago. He hadn't paid much attention to it other than noting she was assigned to the same district he was and that someone must be pulling tributes with names of literary characters as a lark; first Conan Doyle and now Victor Hugo? It's too ridiculous to be accidental.

[gardienne]

"You remember my name, Monsieur?" She laughed a little, and smiled over at him, showing off her newly sparkling (false) teeth. "You know, at home, nobody ever remembered my name, not even my own father half the time. I used to wish that someone would - and here, so it is. But now I have that, I find I miss being invisible. It is the way, no?" She watched as Albert put his shopping away. "Are you fine, Sir? After the arena? I was so mad when they brought me into one - oh, I slapped the man who had murdered me. But are you okay?"

[metalicarus]

When he'd woken up, Albert hadn't been there, which would be normal if it hadn't been for the last few weeks. He waited around at first, but when the German didn't come back after a couple minutes Jet decided to think positively and assume it meant his partner was slowly working back into his old ways.

The blond grabbed some breakfast, changed and decided the best way for him to wake up would be to continue to practice what Felicity had shown him since even he could see an improvement in his performance.

However, when he got down there, he was distracted by the sight of a familiar broad back turned to him as the very man he'd been wondering about went through the motions of practicing with a knife.

Or, well, was trying to. He wasn't really doing a good job.

Jet took moment to hang back in the doorway and watch the shorter man move, admiring the muscles that coiled and relaxed and the general power in Albert's (incorrect) stance.

He stayed there about a minute before finally stepping into the area. He walked over to the weapons table, taking note of the other blade on the table before speaking. "You're just gonna get yourself stuck trying to fight like that."

[silberfuchs]

The morning's workout had gotten Albert worked into quite a sweat and so when he turns around to give Jet a scowl, it's no wonder that his shirt is sticking to him and his hair is plastered to his forehead. The German grabbing a towel and running it over his face doesn't help matters, just making the silver fringe reposition around his chiseled features. "Oh? Did you have a knife attached to your hand for seventy years?"

He tosses the towel over one shoulder, crossing his arms and regarding Jet with an imperious stare down his nose despite his slightly shorter stature.

[metalicarus]

A small smile chased across Jet's face at the response and he turned to face the older man, his arms crossed as well.

"No, but fighting with that knife is different than what you're trying to do now which, by the way, isn't right." The smile grew a little bigger.

"For example: I could disarm you and maybe even take you down without even being armed."

Two!

[youbarium]

There is a man in a lab coat, holding a small white box a few inches from his mouth outside of one of the shops.

"Panem tape one, entry twelve," the man is saying. "Local date: March 15. I still haven't found a proper antimatter generator. I've been out of the museum and in the Capitol for nearly a month now and I've checked every store, every booth, and even asked some members of the local scientific community, but they say they've never heard of one. I'm not sure I believe them. There has been a disturbing lack of transparency from the scientists here, and antimatter generators may simply be forbidden technology."

Frustration is beginning to seep through his professional and clinical demeanor, and as he records, he glances up, periodically, at the people around him, to make sure he's not in anybody's way.

[silberfuchs]

Catching sight of the lab coat is bad enough, sending a shudder crawling up Albert's spine, but to hear him talking about something like antimatter and forbidden technology makes the German's stomach drop and his mouth go dry. Those are the kinds of things Black Ghost's scientists had worked on, applications for antimatter in weaponry and war machines. He has no idea how far they got but it's dangerous, and moreover intensely worrisome that he would be seeking these things openly without repercussion.

Yet rather than engage, Albert decides to withdraw. He can't handle this right now, not when the day had been going so well. Or maybe it's because he finds himself so incredibly uncomfortable around men in white lab coats who talk into voice recorders and look at the world as if its full of interesting specimens instead of people.

So he tries to surreptitiously cross to the other side of the street, trying not to be obvious about his backwards, over the shoulder glances at the man with the recorder and failing quite spectacularly in his haste.

[youbarium]

Oh, he fails all right. Carlos catches Albert's eye and frowns -- is there a problem?

"There's a man," he says into the sleek white box, "crossing the road, about twenty feet away. He keeps looking at me. He's glancing over his shoulder, every couple of seconds, like he's afraid I'm going to follow him. He looks like he's trying to get away from me, but I'm not sure why." Carlos doesn't think he's done anything offensive, which leaves two possibilities. Either Carlos has accidentally done something to upset or offend this man, or this man just didn't like something about Carlos, and was therefore just a jerk.

[orestes]

Mid-morning had become his preferred time to venture into the Training Center. It was the quietest moment that Enjolras could find, well after the early risers but before the afternoon crowd had managed to drag themselves over. As more of the Tributes had arrived back in the Capitol, he found his motivation simultaneously evolving and slipping. He had more of a reason to train, of course, but his own self consciousness prevented him from doing so in a way that seemed likely to generate attention. He wasn't used to being deficient at something. He didn't like it.

Still, Eva's enigmatic pointers had set him in a decent enough direction and so he'd practiced enough in the weeks that followed to make himself decent, if not exactly masterful, at the small array for throwing knives available to them. Knives (and other improvised blades) were by far the most plentiful in the Arenas. They were a good thing to know, in his assessment.

Eva was also correct, if somewhat insulting, in suggesting that they might work with his size. He wasn't short by any means, but his youthful form lacked the breadth of some of the other Tributes. Such as the large, silver haired figure presently troubling himself about the knives, for example.

Coolly, Enjolras watched the man's attempts. There was a very real power visibly in his movements, one which he himself typically lacked, but the form was all off. Part of the benefit of a knife to a sword was the ability to shift at an instant and something about that was clearly or reaching the man. After a moment's more observation, he set his things down, moving to the table to pick up a blade of similar size. They should be evenly matched in that, at least.

"Your form is not like anything I have seen here, Monsieur." His voice held a crisp, rested quality that demanded attention, in spite of its slight accent. Better to call out and alert the man than risk startling him. "Are knives your weapon of choice? I much prefer a rapier, but they are less practical."

[silberfuchs]

More French accents, with a similar sound to his districtmate, Eponine, though much more polished. Albert decides to respond in French, lightly accented with his Germanic stilt as it is, since that had gone over so well with the girl. "I have been fighting for longer than I care to remember, but this is not my preferred mode. I'm much more well versed with firearms."

To be honest, he does feel awkward holding the knife instead of having it as an extension of his arm, protruding from his left hand. He's right handed too, but this at least doesn't give him trouble. He's used to chopping with his left, even if the grip is awkward. "Still, given the situation, I thought I should brush up."

He glances to the knife in the other man's hand and gives a wry smile, moving over to grab a towel and wipe the sweat from his neck. "I'd like to know the name of someone if I'm to train with him. I'm Albert Heinrich. District 3."

[orestes]

The peculiar accent did not go unnoticed. Rather it was noted, and with mild suspicion, but Enjolras decided it could wait.

"Enjolras, District 5. There is an undeniable benefit to being well-practiced." The reply came in French, and was accompanied by a very slight smile. While it held no malicious intent, it also lacked a true friendliness and read more as an expression of amusement. Moreover, the gesture seemed itself to be somehow practiced.

"Do you have a particular way in which you like to spar? I am not so good with a knife, but we can fight according to whatever rules you prefer."

[whoseesbynight]

It's taken a little while before Nepeta has been willing to step out into the streets of the Capitol again. Not because she's ashamed to be seen, but because she hasn't really felt like it. But not even the events of her most recent death can change her forever and so it is that she's finally stepped back out into the streets of the Capitol. She isn't really looking for anything - just taking a moment to see the sights and sounds - but she recognizes Albert once she draws near.

"It's you!"

Some day she'll remember to ask for names, but it hadn't seemed important at the time.

[silberfuchs]

"Oh!" Albert gives a smile at the familiar face. He'd made a point of looking her up after the arena, wanting to thank her, though he hadn't quite managed the gumption to seek her out due to his abysmal mood until today. "Nepeta, right? I was just thinking of you."

He's not entirely sure exactly how he should thank her but usually food is the way to go. Granted he's not sure what trolls eat so he hadn't actually purchased anything yet. "I'm glad to see you again."

[whoseesbynight]

"You were?"

She sounds honestly surprised to hear it. She knows she'd done her part to help, but it had really ever crossed her mind that something like the temporary alliance they'd shared would be something that she should be thanked for. Not that she knows that's what on his mind, but in any case, the surprise still stands.

But it's not a bad one, and she's never really minded talking to people either.

"Did you manage alright after efurrything?"

[tis_allgood]

Cuthbert is lounging over an entire couch in the District 3 common area. He tilts his head back to see who it is coming in so cheerily. He recognizes Albert from seeing him in passing but this is the first time he's had a good opportunity to talk to him.

"I hope your good mood is because you're happy to see me. I know I have that affect on some people."

[silberfuchs]

The whistling stops abruptly as Albert's addressed. He vaguely recognizes the face smirking smugly at him from over the arm of the couch but a name comes to him after a moment. "Ah... Cuthbert Allgood, yes?"

Albert offers a smile as he crosses to the fridge to put his small bundle away, complete with a little 'do not eat' tag, just in case. "I'm afraid it has little to do with you but if you'd care to contribute I wouldn't be against it. It's nice to finally meet you face to face."

[tis_allgood]

"There are many nice things about my face, you'll find. But it and I would be a fairer judge if they were formally introduced."

Bert doesn't get off the sofa, but he does offer a hand, straight up in the air, waiting for Albert to come over and shake it.

Two!

[justgaveup]

There were some people you needed to expect to see outside of the arena. And the major one was the one who killed you in the arena. Perry hadn't seen the guy who'd killed him last time, even though he was expected to give him a holiday gift (seriously?), but he knew that he would meet the new one.

They'd been forced to meet each other through terrible circumstances. But that didn't make them bad people. Perry didn't blame Albert for killing him; he'd struck first, technically.

Still, he was surprised to see him when he saw him on the street. He was struck with indecision. Does he say something, or get the hell out of there? Perry raised his hand in greeting. His killer could always leave if he wanted to.

[silberfuchs]

If Albert had thought his run in with that scientist was the most awkward it could get today, he was sorely mistaken.

When Perry waves to him on the street he nearly turns around and goes the other direction, not sure what to do in order to face the situation. He's still angry, despite having killed them both. Perry had killed his friends, that fact still remains. But there's guilt and understanding now as well, and understanding that they will all have to kill each other simply to survive, to try and get a way out, and there was nothing personal in what Perry did.

He decides he won't apologize, but he won't avoid the kid either. The only thing for it is to face things head on, so Albert walks over and gives a nod, face locked in a carefully neutral expression. "Good afternoon."

One

[undercoverprincess]

She'd stayed away from the training rooms for a few days once she got back. But now it'd been some time since the arena, and that meant getting in all the training that she should have been doing before. Cindy felt pretty good with herself for what she'd done in the arena, except her death.

That's what was going to bother her intensely for maybe the rest of her life. She'd gotten the drop on her by someone she should have gotten the drop on. And she'd been tortured for it. Not just killed, no. Tortured.

Cindy was going for knives. Every target was Shepard, and she took great pleasure in hitting the perfect spots on the dummies with her throws. She doesn't know who this guy is, though, and he's already there when she gets there, and as she watches him with interest, she can't decide what he's doing.

"Who taught you to use a knife like that?"

[silberfuchs]

He rises from his half-crouch, suddenly a bit self conscious for her tone. Jet had already pointed out that he needed a lot of work, and the same moves he'd used as a cyborg weren't going to fly now that he's human, but old habits are incredibly hard to break.

"Self taught." He looks at her awkwardly, lowering the knife to his side. "You are?"