[closed]

[capitolprivilege]

Who| Ziva and Stephen
What| Complaints about Cyrus, possibly turning into complaints about the Capitol.
Where| D6 rooms
When| During family plot, the night after the first part of this log.
Warnings/Notes| Will edit as necessary

"Ziva?"

It was evening, the end of a long day of helping the Tributes show their visitors around the Capitol, and everyone was finally back in their rooms. Stephen had been quietly fuming all day -- he'd done his best, and mostly succeeded, not to let it affect his attitude for the rest of the day, but being upbeat when something as large as a fight with his brother was bothering him had been difficult.

He wanted to talk to someone about it, and since the person he'd usually go to talk to about it, his brother, wasn't an option, well... Ziva was the smartest person he knew who wasn't family, and he was sure she'd have good advice. Or, at least, he could vent a bit and get his thoughts about it in order.

He knocked on the door to her room again. "Ziva? Do you have a minute?"

Stephen hoped she wouldn't mind him coming to vent, but he knew she didn't have any family in town, so -- she probably wasn't busy?

Comments

[sabra]

It's not like she has anything going on. The excitement of all the visitors had passed her by--the only person she'd even care to see was Tali, and it was better that she was far from the Capitol.

She never really expected anyone to seek her out, though now that she was around Stephen on a regular basis again she should, probably, get used to it once more. And indeed, when she went to the door, it was him standing there.

Ziva certainly didn't look like she'd been busy--she's holding a book loosely in one hand, but is dressed in loose, comfortable silk pants in brightly patterned fabric that tied on around her waist and a tank top, feet bare, nothing like what she would have worn to the training room if she'd indeed been there today. Which she hadn't. With all the excitement of family, friends, the videos being shown about the Tributes, no one cared to learn from her.

"Yes," she responds simply, standing aside so he could come in and they could have at least a vague illusion of privacy. She has a small nook by the window, judging from the blanket and empty glass on the floor next to the expansive window seat, that was where she'd been sitting. She settles there again--there's a chair, or enough room on the window seat, for Stephen to sit.

"What is it?"

[capitolprivilege]

He drops down onto the chair with a sigh. Stephen is relieved that he isn't interrupting anything -- the last thing he wants is to be presumptuous or rude to the person whose advice he's soliciting.

"I just wanted to talk about what happened today. You remember the fight from this morning, don't you? The one between Kevin and the other Cecil Palmer?" Stephen asked, looking over at Ziva.

[sabra]

Not that she would tell him so if he was being presumptuous or rude. She's comfortable with Stephen, but that doesn't mean that there are boundaries that she shouldn't push.

"Of course. You intervened before I could. Reckless of you." Granted, he hadn't gotten hurt--but he could have, and that would have created a lot more issues. "You should try to be more careful. Especially in a situation such as that, yes?"

Admonishment delivered, Ziva cocks her head in silent invitation to continue. She's pretty sure that's not what's eating you.

[capitolprivilege]

From the looks of it, that's not what Stephen wants to hear. He groans and sinks lower in his seat.

"That's exactly what my brother said," he complains. "I get it, I get it, it was reckless -- do you think it means I can't do my job, too?"

[sabra]

"I think that you are very good at your job. Just that you should be careful in situations such as that. If you had also been attacked...your brother was worried about you, that is all."

She leans forward--the corner is close, seating set up for quiet and close conversation that Ziva rarely had. She's close enough to rest one hand on his knee briefly. "He does not wish to see you hurt. Neither do I."

She sits back then, watching him again. "You fought with him about this." It isn't a question. She's fairly sure he wouldn't be here otherwise.

[capitolprivilege]

He sucks in a deep breath, then lets some of his frustration out with the exhale. He came here for advice, and he was going to listen.

"I know," Stephen says, a little dejected: of course he knows that no one wants to see him get hurt. No one at all, right? "And yes, yes I did." He huffed a breath, scowling. "You know, I wonder about him sometimes. I think he is the only older brother in the history of Panem who doesn't want to see his brother gainfully employed."

[sabra]

Well. There might be someone. It's hard to remember, sometimes, that not everyone in the Capitol realizes exactly what goes on in the Districts. Even Stephen, who is closer to them than most, doesn't know. Or understand. That might earn him some animosity.

"In all of history? Doubtful. Perhaps he just thought that you would be something else. Follow where he lead. It is not uncommon for younger siblings."

Practically guaranteed, in the Districts, where you were born for one job and one job only.

"It is also not uncommon for older ones to think that they know best." Ziva's a middle child, she's known the best of both worlds.

[capitolprivilege]

Stephen runs a hand, slowly, over his face, composing himself. He feels like a petulant child, which is exactly the opposite of how he wants to feel.

"But am I wrong," he says finally, "to be insulted when he good as tells me I don't know how to do my job? I know leaping in was reckless, but I also know Kevin. I know how he works, how he thinks. I knew how to stop him. And if I hadn't done anything, they might have killed each other before the peacekeepers arrived!" Stephen looks truly upset at the prospect.

[sabra]

Ziva is rather bad at comfort and placating, she never had the skill demonstrated on her save by Tali and vague memories of her mother. Neither were common. The world wasn't nice, and wasn't fair, and she saw no use in pretending otherwise.

"No. You are not." But he can't stop Cyrus from thinking that.

It's funny, she thinks. The Tributes are to die, always have been, save for the few that become Mentors. It's simple truth, one he's always known, but now he's upset by it.

"You cannot do anything but speak with him."

[capitolprivilege]

For Stephen, there has always been a difference between the controlled, necessary deaths in the Arena and murder. It was a fine distinction, but for someone raised in the Capitol where televised death was a part of life, it wasn't surprising compartmentalization.

"What if he doesn't listen?" Stephen asks. "He didn't listen this afternoon -- why would he listen, if he thinks I'm an idiot?" He sits up with a frown as he remembers something else Cyrus said. "He might try to make me leave over this," he says.

[sabra]

It wasn't, really. And it was one Ziva understood him having. Didn't mean that she necessarily agreed with it, but...well. There's an awful lot of death in the Districts.

"Then make him listen. You are your own man, Stephen. It is to you to make him respect that." She tilts her head, wondering if perhaps that was a touch too much for him to swallow. But really--it's true. "The only person that can make Cyrus understand and respect your decisions is yourself."

[capitolprivilege]

Stephen's mouth draws into a tight line. "I'm not leaving," he says, and there is uncharacteristic firmness in his voice. "I can't stand the idea of being shut up away from all of this again. I want to be here, where everything is happening. Don't worry, Ziva -- there's nothing Cyrus can say that will get me to leave the Games again."

Then he gives her a grin, and the seriousness of the moment breaks.

"You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

[sabra]

Not that she was really worried. Though, admittedly, she does like having him around--doesn't like so much that it means his brother is, too, but every family has their...well.

Challenging members.

"God forbid," she says dryly.

[capitolprivilege]

He laughs and shifts forward in the chair, body language saying that he was getting ready to leave. "Well, if that's how it is," Stephen says with a teasing, almost challenging grin, "I'd better go -- I'd hate to impose any further."

[sabra]

Well, it's not like she doesn't know where to find him. "You do not impose. I hope that you know that." Stephen is one of the few people she actually likes being around, generally speaking.

But she waves a hand anyway. "But it is a busy time, and there is a lot demanding your attention. If you need quiet, come back."

[capitolprivilege]

The challenge fades out of Stephen's grin, leaving behind a smile that is both grateful and honestly warm.

"Thank you," he says as he stands. "For the offer, for the advice, and for your time." Stephen is doing his best to regain some of his dignity; he does not take it for granted that she let him come in to complain about his brother.

He goes to the door, then stops, and glances back. "I'll try not to come by too often," he teases. "You wouldn't want people to talk."