open;

[swedeandlow]

WHO| Kurt Wallander and OPEN
WHAT| Kurt decides he needs to get to know the Tributes a little more personally
WHEN| Now up until the crowning! Feel free to tag in super late, he'll still be around
WHERE| Common room of the tribute to
WARNINGS| None so far, will update if necessary

Kurt Wallander sighed meaningfully over his paperwork. He looked, as usual, like he hadn't slept in days, and the outfit he wore was utilitarian and rumpled. Those who had been to District 2 might recognize the style as being much more to their taste to the Capitol's, but he managed to make it look particularly disheveled anyway. There had been no murders lately, luckily, so he'd been able to focus all his attention on the rebellion, which as always managed to make him incredibly depressed. He didn't want to believe that the rebellion was trying to tap into the tributes, but the fact remained that whoever this hacker was, he was deliberately trying to turn the tributes into terrorists.

He'd managed to keep himself at arms length with them so far, but that was going to be impossible now. He'd have to talk to them, get to know them, figure out just how deeply this dangerous sentiment ran...

He sighed again, just as meaningfully, as he stood from his desk and rubbed his eyes. Interviews. Nothing formal, nothing mandatory, but he needed a more personal insight into the tribute system to understand where the weakness might be, where the motivations lay.

So he trudged out into the light rain, without an umbrella, to make his way over to the tribute center. The peacekeepers didn't give him any grief - they all recognized him as a superior officer, despite the wrinkles and baggy eyes, and he made his way to the common room. He didn't have to pretend to look awkward, he managed that pretty naturally, and he certainly didn't look like a peacekeeper as he wandered up to tributes and introduced himself.

Comments

[aintyourdad]

The man in the common room caught Joel's eye because he stood out from the usual crowd. Admittedly, tributes came in all shapes and sizes, but Joel knew the look of someone who'd seen an arena or two, and as haunted as this guy seemed, he didn't have it.

So either he was new, or he was a Capitolite. And from the way he dressed - he looked like either a journalist or a cop.

Neither of which struck Joel as appealing conversational partners.

"I'm not doin' interviews, go bark up someone else's tree," he said dismissively, going with the first assumption as he tried to wave the man off.

[swedeandlow]

Well, this was going fantastically.

"No- no, I'm not a reporter," He murmured tiredly. "Just... trying to get to know some of you better, that's all. You're Joel, correct? From District... ah.." He searched his brain, frowning, "Eight."

[aintyourdad]

Joel could never stop himself from bristling a little when a perfect stranger recognized him, knew his name. It made him uncomfortable, how much everyone seemed to know about him, without him knowing anything about them.

Where he came from, personal information was kept close to the chest, with good reason. Everyone had a shitty sob story, and rare was the person he trusted enough to share it with.

"Yeah. What's it to you, if you're not a reporter?" he asked gruffly.

[swedeandlow]

He wasn't exactly eager to introduce himself as a peacekeeper off the bat - he knew that many of them didn't have good relationships with the authority in Panem, and it was trust he wanted to build, not loathing.

On the other hand, he was not about to lie when directly asked.

"I'm a detective. Here. For the peacekeepers." He raised both hands up preemptively, and gave a slightly self deprecating smile. "Don't worry, I'm not... This isn't anything official, no one's in any trouble. I've just been assigned to this jurisdiction, so I wanted to get to know you all a little better."

[aintyourdad]

And Joel was one of the worst possible people to be talking to anyone involved in the government, or police, or military. He pretty much hated them - he hated them back home, and he hated them here.

So at Wallander's words, his face darkened into a scowl. "Gonna buddy up to us like your government ain't kidnappin' kids to watch 'em die over and over again, like it's no big deal, like we've got it pretty good here? Like we don't know you're watchin' our every move? Yeah, you do that."

[swedeandlow]

"Look, obviously it's not ideal," Kurt said, with a world weary sigh, "And if I had to stand by with my daughter in the games--" He cut himself off, frowning.

"It's thanks to you, to all of you, that I don't have to. I know you didn't ask for this, but the fact of the matter is that you're here, and that I'm responsible for you. And I don't, actually, watch the camera footage. Here, or in the arena. Not my department."

He wasn't a glorified security guard.

[emptytrousers]

Kili had planned to go out and explore more of the Capitol, rain or shine, but his stylists had insisted that the dark kohl surrounding his eyes could simply not get wet or he would look far more terrifying than he intended. It seemed he couldn't even enjoy the singular constant thing from home; he loved the rain and had for decades. So, for now he was seated in a comfortable chair nearest the window so he could at least watch the rain if he could not actively enjoy it.

That is, until a somewhat bedraggled and rumpled man approaches him. Of course, the dwarf's first assumption was that he was one of the mentors, here to remind Kili that he had indeed lost the previous Arena, been stabbed by a young girl, and that his hesitance would do him no good if he kept it up. Mindy's words rang too loud in his ears as he tried to listen to the introduction but missed most of it for the clamor of his thoughts.

Clearing his throat, he sat up straighter in his seat before shamelessly asking, "Say again?"

[swedeandlow]

"Sorry. Kurt Wallander," He said, gesturing to himself again with a faintly apologetic smile.

"I was wondering if you'd be willing to talk, for a few minutes. I'm trying to ah, to get to know the tributes a little better."

[emptytrousers]

Oh, right. That's what he'd said. Trying to ignore how fuzzy his head feels, Kili nods and stands up so he can bow to Kurt with a small smile.

"Kíli, at your service." He replies when he's upright again. Talking actually sounded quite nice, even if the dwarf is a little wary of telling yet another person that he didn't want to kill anyone, or that he didn't know what to do about the entire situation. It's much easier to tell a stein of beer his troubles than any of the race of men. "You must be a mentor, then."

[aintyourdad]

"So we're doin' you a service, huh?" Joel asked, getting really angry now. Every word out of this man's mouth just made him want to shoot something - if only he had a goddamn gun, he'd put it in this guy's face in a heartbeat.

It was probably for the best that he didn't, really.

"Do you even hear yourself?" he asked, his voice dripping with disgust. "Actin' like this death match is just somethin' normal, like watchin' people die because it gets your jollies off is some nice favor we're doin' you. And since you don't watch the footage of us in the bathroom, it's okay?"

His fists clenched reflexively, and he turned around. He was planning to head out into the city, but now he thought maybe those punching bags might serve a purpose for him after all.

[wiredup]

"Hey, copper."

Eddie lifted a hand in greeting as he saw the man, his face breaking out in an easy grin. He was always uneasy around Peacekeeper, a mix of worrying about being caught doing something combined with a vague disgust to know they'd never bust him for doing much sky of murder.

But Wallander was different. And he appreciated it.

"What's cooking?"

[amoral_savior]

Topher was on a sofa with his feet kicked up and his notebook in hand. Eva had managed to grab most of his old work, but there was still a lot to recreate...unless he could locate his "fans." That meant going out. That meant socializing. That meant doing things that he really did want or care to do.

It was easier just to start again.

The arrival of a man in white was new and slightly interesting, until he saw the way the guy bumbled around like it was his first time in public. Amature. He almost felt for the guy, but not enough to actually do anything.

Topher loudly slurped the juice from a box that had his face on it. Horrible picture, but sweet and delicious high fructose corn syrup. Nectar of the gods. Once his box was empty of juice he let out a sad sigh before crushing the cardboard cube and tossing behind him. Now he had to decide whether or not to get up and get another or...

"Hey, one of those creepy mutes around?"

[swedeandlow]

Wallander sighed. There wasn't a point arguing - they weren't new sentiments to him, and he could understand completely where they came from, even if they were dangerous to utter aloud.

Joel might not understand him, but he was thankful that they were there. He just didn't see the point in arguing. So he didn't stop the man from turning away, didn't try to call him back.

He just kicked himself mentally and rubbed at his eyes.

For Joel, that evening

[swedeandlow]

It had been a long day.

Wallander usually drank alone, as sad as it was, but he'd worked too long and his favourite liquor store was closed, so he found himself going to the local bar instead. It was at least more quiet than others he knew, and the bartender was a sympathetic soul, so he sat at the bar with his head bowed as he nursed a glass of wine.

He had known, of course, that gaining any sort of trust among the tributes was likely going to be an uphill battle, but it didn't make it any less depressing. He couldn't blame them for being angry, but that was exactly what worried him. So many would so easily be able to be turned into weapons for the Rebellion, start a war that would kill so many...

He sighed again, to himself, and drank his wine, and tried to forget the fact that he'd promised to call his father that night. He didn't have the heart to face someone else who thought his job sapped him of all morality.

[swedeandlow]

"No, no, I'm not a mentor," He says, smiling somewhat bemusedly. He was hardly in a fit state to mentor anyone, but it was nice to get a bow instead of a growl. He gestured to Kili's seat, pleading with him to retake it.

"I'm ah-" he hesitated, wondering if dwarves had police, "I'm a peacekeeper. Sort of. I'm here to protect people." He smiled again. "I wanted to know how you're feeling, how you're fitting in."

[swedeandlow]

Wallander gave a slightly rueful smile and raised a hand in greeting as Eddie approached.

"Trying to get to know my jurisdiction a bit better," He said wryly. "It's been an extremely pleasant time so far." That is to say, the opposite.

"Keeping out of trouble?" He asked after a moment, an almost fond tilt to the words.

[swedeandlow]

"Ah--" It took him a second to realise that Topher was talking to him. "An avox, you mean?" He asked, frowning, as he glanced around. Usually there was always one to hand, but it was just his luck that in this particular instance there wasn't a single one to be seen.

"Doesn't look like it," He mused, before looking back at the tribute. Well. Time to attempt to gain trust, at least. "Why, what do you need?"

[silberfuchs]

By this point, random people coming up and introducing themselves had become old hat, though the gushing over his emotion-fueled homicide-suicide in the arena still made him nauseated and uncomfortable. Still, as Jessica urged him, he used it as a opportunity to practice 'working the sponsors' as it were and has gotten decent enough at it that when the disheveled and tired looking gentleman approaches him there's not even a grimace behind his cordial smile.

"Good afternoon."

[youbarium]

"Um...hello," Carlos said, as the stranger approached. "Can I help you?"

He had been headed upstairs to the District 10 suite, where he was still trying to find an appropriate substitute power source for the devices he wanted to make. He held a coffee cup in one hand and a box full of what looked like springs, wires and assorted spare parts in the other.

SETTING THIS POST-RILEY BECAUSE OF REASONS

[aintyourdad]

Joel needed to get out. Out of the tribute tower, away from - everything. After the day he'd had, he was ready to throw caution to the wind, get drunk as a skunk and pass out.

He had a feeling Ellie wouldn't be knocking on his door tonight, for the first time since he'd arrived in the Capitol, and that left a hollow, cold feeling in his chest, like he was the one who'd fucked up, even though he knew better. Something about that Riley girl rubbed him the wrong way, and he wasn't going to admit to jealousy. No fucking way.

So instead, he wandered into a bar he knew to be quiet, away from the worst of the gawkers, one a number of tributes frequented when they needed to be out but not quite so in the limelight.

So it was just his luck that he spotted a familiar figure at the bar - one he was not interested in seeing again. He'd nearly thrown a punch at the man earlier, and after everything else that had happened? He wasn't sure he could restrain himself again, if it came to that. "You've gotta be kiddin' me," he groaned, and it probably didn't help that he'd already had a couple of drinks before leaving the tower.

[emptytrousers]

Without hesitation or a bit of suspicion, Kili reflects Wallander's smile right back at him, even though it's a little colored with confusion as he sits back down. Not a mentor? He must be a stylist then, but Wallander didn't seem to be dressed in the outrageously bright colors that the others did. When Wallander explains, Kili raises both eyebrows, not quite sure exactly how to respond. Peacekeeper. He hadn't heard of those. Not yet, at least.

"I've got friends, if that's what you mean," he replies cordially, still smiling. It's one of the few things he does like about this place: the friends he's made. "Are you here to make sure everyone's got friends?"

[amoral_savior]

"Juice. Approved by Topher and four out of five doctors." He looked up and frowned at the non-Avox. "It's a dumb name you know. Avox. They aren't without a voice, they are without a tongue, which, by the way, is gross."

Topher didn't actually care what the Capitol called its servants, but he did have some issue with the removal of body parts. What did they do with all these excess tongues? There better not be some weird Hannibal Lector in the medical department.

"Who are you?"

[deafscythe]

The boy smiles at the introduction, with the practice of someone who has been on the receiving end of a fair share of interviews.

"Justin Law, District 7." He introduces himself in return, with a slight bow. "Are you new?"

[swedeandlow]

"Not exactly," Kurt said, though he had trouble chasing down the smile. He was a little charmed by the dwarf.

"I mean, partly, yes. But I'm well aware that there's a, ah... Some find it difficult, adjusting to life here. Especially when they come from places with such a large temporal discrepancy."

[swedeandlow]

Kurt gave him a bit of a bemused look at the complaint about naming conventions, wandering over to the fridge, grabbing one of the juice boxes in question, and handing it to Topher.

"Kurt Wallander," He said, "Though I do still have my tongue. You were here before, weren't you?"