Howard Bassem (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2012-12-19 01:45 am
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote in thecapitol2012-12-19 01:45 am
Tell Me I'm Gonna Be Alright [Open]
WHO| Howard and OPEN
WHAT| Binge-eating is a public sport.
WHERE| Below Timberline
WHEN| A few days after the rave.
WARNINGS| None yet.
It was a bad idea to give Howard a credit card. At least, unless the Gamemakers intended for him to get himself into ridiculous amounts of debt in record time eating out, which they probably did. As soon as he found a restaurant and the fact that the credit card apparently meant 'infinite money' to him, his mind was set on milking it for all it's worth.
Which is, at the moment, a few plates and some doggie boxes full of food to take home. It doesn't matter that there's foods in the suites. For the moment, he's living in the land of plenty, and he's going to take every opportunity he can to enjoy it. His stomach perpetually aches and cramps with the feeling of being too full, but after too many months of brutal starvation, he'll take that feeling over hunger. After two plates he's even managed to stop eating with his hands and go back to using silverware, although he still brings each plate close to him as if certain the other patrons are going to try and take it from him.
He just wishes people would stop staring at him. He knows it's inevitable, he's a tribute, and while he isn't one who did very well he did bash someone's head in. Every time they look at him, he's reminded of that. He tells himself that Lottie's alive and death isn't real in the arena, but just the idea of it makes the otherwise delicious food seem tasteless.
"There is a limit on this card, you know," someone says as they ring it up for another plate.
"Shut up," he says in return.
And when there's another full plate in front of him he starts on that, too, the taste on his tongue reminding him that here in the Capitol, he's safe. In this place, the bad things are temporary inconveniences until you come back to this life of luxury. He's going to be okay.
Another forkful, he's going to be okay.
WHAT| Binge-eating is a public sport.
WHERE| Below Timberline
WHEN| A few days after the rave.
WARNINGS| None yet.
It was a bad idea to give Howard a credit card. At least, unless the Gamemakers intended for him to get himself into ridiculous amounts of debt in record time eating out, which they probably did. As soon as he found a restaurant and the fact that the credit card apparently meant 'infinite money' to him, his mind was set on milking it for all it's worth.
Which is, at the moment, a few plates and some doggie boxes full of food to take home. It doesn't matter that there's foods in the suites. For the moment, he's living in the land of plenty, and he's going to take every opportunity he can to enjoy it. His stomach perpetually aches and cramps with the feeling of being too full, but after too many months of brutal starvation, he'll take that feeling over hunger. After two plates he's even managed to stop eating with his hands and go back to using silverware, although he still brings each plate close to him as if certain the other patrons are going to try and take it from him.
He just wishes people would stop staring at him. He knows it's inevitable, he's a tribute, and while he isn't one who did very well he did bash someone's head in. Every time they look at him, he's reminded of that. He tells himself that Lottie's alive and death isn't real in the arena, but just the idea of it makes the otherwise delicious food seem tasteless.
"There is a limit on this card, you know," someone says as they ring it up for another plate.
"Shut up," he says in return.
And when there's another full plate in front of him he starts on that, too, the taste on his tongue reminding him that here in the Capitol, he's safe. In this place, the bad things are temporary inconveniences until you come back to this life of luxury. He's going to be okay.
Another forkful, he's going to be okay.
no subject
There's a desperate and confused keen in his voice. He never knows what it is he's doing wrong, to push people away when he doesn't mean to. He's not sure what fundamental flaw he's nurturing that makes it so people never stay.
no subject
"Do NOT look at me like that. I don't WANT your sympathy. I do not deserve it and I do not need it. If you look at me like that, I don't want to speak to you."
It just makes her remember how bad her life is, and quite honestly, she'd rather forget about it all.
no subject
no subject
She stares at Howard. Did he really cringe? She notices only because it's her own reflex reaction when her parents or 'Parnasse are about. For a minute, she just watches Howard, but then she walks back to him, and slips her arm through his.
"Come. I'm sorry."
She isn't.
"It's just... just don't - please don't. It makes me hurt here."
She points to her throat, "and here." She moves her hand to her stomach.
"This is a place for sad subjects... but I don't like being sad."
no subject
"Yeah, let's find out if they have an arcade around here or something. Um-" He realizes Eponine might not know what that is, or at least, not by the standards of his world. "A gaming parlor, I guess."
The Training Center seems even less inviting now that they've endeavored to avoid sad things.
no subject
Eponine grins. "Will you show me? I can do poker and the like! I'm good at poker. The Patron Minette let me play with them sometimes; they are MASTERS at poker, far better than me. They can cheat you out of your money before you can say 'Jimmy o' Goblin!'"
no subject
He taps at the sleeve on his wrist. "Besides, I can cheat too."