Stephanus "Stephen" Reagan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
capitolprivilege) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-03-22 10:48 am
capitolprivilege) wrote in thecapitol2014-03-22 10:48 am
Entry tags:
[semi-open]
WHO| Stephen Reagan and the D6 tributes/mentors
WHAT| The former D6 Escort is back at his old job and wants to meet all his new Tributes. The Neverending Quell is so exciting!
WHEN| Saturday and Sunday.
WHERE| Tribute Tower, D6 suite
WARNINGS| Catch-all warning for a guy who's swallowed all of the Capitol's bullshit, plus whatever you bring with you.
For most of March 22 and 23, there was a new figure in the D6 common rooms. It wouldn't be hard to guess that he was a Capitol native -- the too-smooth skin, the lightly applied glittery-blue guyliner, and the precious stones that lined one ear were enough to give that away. He sat comfortably in the D6 common room, dressed in an ice-blue suit, sipping intermittently at something expensive and bubbly. Most of his attention was on the tablet on his lap, but whenever someone came in, his head immediately snapped up. He broke into a broad smile as he stood, crossed the room, and offered his hand (the suit cuff was lined with some kind of sparkly fabric that really shouldn't be able to reflect that much light) to the newcomer.
"Hello, hello! It's so good to meet you in person at last."
WHAT| The former D6 Escort is back at his old job and wants to meet all his new Tributes. The Neverending Quell is so exciting!
WHEN| Saturday and Sunday.
WHERE| Tribute Tower, D6 suite
WARNINGS| Catch-all warning for a guy who's swallowed all of the Capitol's bullshit, plus whatever you bring with you.
For most of March 22 and 23, there was a new figure in the D6 common rooms. It wouldn't be hard to guess that he was a Capitol native -- the too-smooth skin, the lightly applied glittery-blue guyliner, and the precious stones that lined one ear were enough to give that away. He sat comfortably in the D6 common room, dressed in an ice-blue suit, sipping intermittently at something expensive and bubbly. Most of his attention was on the tablet on his lap, but whenever someone came in, his head immediately snapped up. He broke into a broad smile as he stood, crossed the room, and offered his hand (the suit cuff was lined with some kind of sparkly fabric that really shouldn't be able to reflect that much light) to the newcomer.
"Hello, hello! It's so good to meet you in person at last."
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He reached up to run a finger over his own lip, as if reminding himself how far out it ran to the edge of his face.
"I couldn't...see very well when I was young, you see. They fixed that! And now I can even stare into the sun for the mandatory ten minutes a day. As for my mouth...well, smiles are important, right?"
He grinned, wide and bright, all jagged teeth on display.
"They've done other things, too, but I guess those are the easiest to see."
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"You seem like a very reasonable man," said Stephen, interested but still professionally distant -- the conversation had somehow shifted to have the feel of an interview. "Talking to you, I can hardly believe those things you did in the Arena. Was it really just devotion to what you saw as your job? And what about the 'hugs?'" he asked. "What can you tell me about that?"
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"Honestly, I don't understand what it was that I did that seems so terrible. I was just doing my job! That's it exactly." A grin and a nod...and then the lift of eyebrows.
"What about them? I love hugs! Who doesn't?"
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Honest surprise crosses Kevin's face, though it's really hard to tell with that smile.
"Gosh! I didn't know that! Customs are just so different here!"
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"...Yes? I mean, I guess, by your definition? But you have to understand - USUALLY, death isn't even a factor! Not at home, anyway. Not really. Like I said - customs are just sooooo different here."
There's something chilling about his voice at the end of that comment...something less than innocent in the way his smile quirks up.
Hm.
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"I apologize," said Stephen slowly, "if any of these questions seem intrusive. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Quite the opposite: it's my job to help you adjust to living in the Capitol. However, out of curiosity, I have to wonder: was it that people did not die when they were strangled where you were from?" Or was it that their death didn't matter? he did not say.
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He halts for a long time while he considers the question - or maybe is considering the question? - and then finally, when he does answer:
"Well, not always. Strexcorp tends to frown on putting people out of commission for a work day."
...Oh.
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This conversation, tense and carefully diplomatic, might be one of the bravest things Stephen Reagan has ever done.
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"...I understand." Take a breath of relief, Stephen, while you can. Kevin laughs softly, nodding his head in a casual fashion before speaking again. "But it's fair game within the Arena, isn't it? I mean, gosh...isn't killing my job in there?"
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It's said almost with a sigh, a relieved laugh, and a gentle relaxing of the shoulders.
"Then I do understand it all correctly. You really don't need to worry about little old me, Stephen. I'll acclimate just fine."
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He offers his hand to Kevin, one last time -- ignoring the gore for the sake of politeness.
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The handshake was firm (and still sticky), without a trace of irony.
If nothing else, Kevin could abide by professional courtesy.
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"If you'll excuse me, I have a few things I need to take care of." Like washing his hands and trying not to be sick. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to contact me. Helping you is my job, after all."
And with that, Stephen would turn, and disappear into one of the rooms, and if you listened closely, you might hear the sound of running water and deep breaths.