thecapitol | [open]

Who| Clementine and OTA
What| Clem didn't get any family visiting so naturally she decides to go occupy her time with weaponry instead
Where| The Training Centre
When| Family fun week
Warnings/Notes| Er... let's go with possible swears and talk of violence

Clementine had been unlucky, or perhaps lucky, in that no familiar faces had shown up for her this week. Maybe she was too new, too unknown still for the Capitol to have an idea for making a spectacle of her that way yet. Being small and practiced at hiding and sneaking she'd managed so far to avoid too much of the limelight, just the way she preferred it.

So (in what was definitely not a distraction from the dull ache of disappointment in her chest) she'd decided to focus on training for the upcoming arena. When that was exactly she wasn't sure and no one seemed able to tell her, making it seem all the more important to practice while she could. Plus, with everyone else busy with their visitors the place seemed quieter than what she normally assumed it would be.

"Way too heavy." Clem says as she passes a line of swords, axes and maces, pushing down the sense of fear at the idea of someone coming at her with one of those. "Way too... I don't even know what that is." she frowns at something else. The survival stations at least look more familiar to what she knows.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He sets it back in its place, standing a moment with his back to her to look the rest over. "Busy? In this place? I've little to do but wait."

As to what he's waiting for, exactly - well. He's almost grateful he came across Clementine today. It reminds him that what he ought to be feeling is dread.

"This one should do," he says, picking up a larger, solid looking knife and holding it out to her, handle first. "Tuck this into your pants - carefully, mind - and pull your shirt over it. Don't know whether we're allowed to take these out of the training rooms, but I don't see any trees around here, so we may have to risk it." His own shirt is tucked into his pants, no good for hiding things in, and there's a chance any peacekeepers who may look will be less likely to suspect a child. "The rooftop garden, do you think? Or the city?"

Clementine takes it and feels that odd little thrill she usually does at doing something she probably shouldn't -- something risky. It's a feeling she's become quite accustomed to over the years.

She carefully hides the knife as Roland instructs, glad she's wearing a shirt that's on the baggy side. After a moment of contemplating the choices she speaks quietly, "I think the rooftop would work, there's plenty of trees."

Outside lurks the citizenry too and they have a tendency to flock if they sniff a tribute, like oversized pigeons after grain.

Roland stands back to look it over, then nods and heads out. His pace is casual, unhurried, and he doesn't give the peacekeeper standing outside the room a moment's glance. If the man happens to be particularly observant, they'll deal with that, but Roland doesn't plan on giving him any extra clues that there's anything there to observe.

"You said your aim was good," he says, starting toward the elevator. "How quick is it? How quickly do you reload?"

Clementine follows him, hands in her pockets to be sure that she won't fidget with them or make any other suspicious movements.

She has to think about Roland's question because she's never tried to count. "Quick. Walkers are slow but when there's a lot of them..." she shrugs. "A few seconds?"

The look Roland gives her is more surprise than disbelief. "Say true? That I'd like to see sometime." He slips into the elevator and, yes, he is judging that peacekeeper a little not for not catching them.

"Mark yon peacekeeper's face, if you remember it," he says once the doors close. "Always useful to mark the incompetent ones."

Clem blinks, "Well," she says, with an embarrassed little shrug, "It's only clips, they slide right in."

Before she can help it Clementine let's out a snort of laughter. "Got it."

He hadn't meant it to make her laugh, but when she does Roland finds himself smiling a little, pleased. "Clip. I think I've heard that before with weapons..." His smile fades as he tries to remember, then shakes his head.

"No matter. I'd meant to gauge how quickly you might use a bow and arrow, but I guess we'll just have to see. What are your teachers like? Do they teach you through the day or do you learn more slowly? I'd like to show you how to use it too nit I don't know how much time we have." Because someone young as her who can shoot has to have had a teacher for it, right? Or so he assumes.

"Your gun doesn't use one?" she asked. Clementine almost asks where it is but then of course it would have been taken by the Gamemakers. "Is it a revolver?"

Clementine frowns, "I... I didn't really have much of a lesson. A... friend, taught me, briefly, we were on a train and... well after that there was never time for more lessons. I just had to do it."

Roland watches her carefully, then only nods. No need to ask to read between the lines of that. "We'll do what we can, then. I've no plans for the day if you haven't." With no 'visitor' having shown up for Roland - which is an idea he's been making every effort not to think too much about - he's got as much free time as he's ever had in this place.

"I'd very much like to see what you can do with a gun." Self-taught, and she says her aim is good. He's curious. "But I doubt I'll get to any time soon. Mine was a revolver, as it happens-" - was - "-but I think I may have used the kind you speak of. How many bullets does one 'clip' have?"

Once they reach the roof - soon, probably, - he'll speak of more relevant matters. But for now there's no harm in indulging some of that curiosity.

Clementine's glad he doesn't ask, she doesn't want to talk about Lee right now for much the reason she came here to distract herself from thinking about her lack of visitors.

"Nothing but this." she replies, "I'd like to show you too, see what you can do as well." Clementine has that feeling that however good she is with a gun Roland might put her to shame. "Mine held seven, other kinds could have more."

"Afraid you might not be able to. My shooting days may be done for a while," Roland murmurs, feeling the room around them slow as it reaches the roof. "Laid the gun down before I got here. If it still exists at all, it's not a part of this world."

It's the most detailed he's gotten, in word or thought, about what happened Before Panem since he arrived. The doors open and he strides through, leaving it behind.

"You'll want a branch that's smooth. Sturdy but flexible." Hmm? Were they having another conversation just now? Surely not. "You may know better than I what sorts of trees they have up here. Haven't been up here much. In any case, we should probably start small. How about..." Roland turns and studies her height a moment. "A branch of two feet in length. About this big around." He makes a circle with his fingers. "That may not be too hard to find here. If you see anything likely, say so."

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