thecapitol | Now I remember the joy and the meaning of the fate....

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Now I remember the joy and the meaning of the fate....

WHO| Kevin and YOU!
WHAT| Visitors have been removed, Kevin is really lost, and he's been TOLD alcohol helps with this....
WHEN| The evening after the arrest.
WHERE| A bar, where else?
WARNINGS| Everything that comes with Kevin. The chip in his neck is reprogramming him as he sits there, so he's going to be pretty weird. Also very drunk. Watch this space for updates.

Y'know, it was probably the serenity that stood out the most.

When his mother was taken, it was sudden. That wasn't as jarring as it could have been, all told. What WAS jarring was that serenity as she was taken...that grace, even as she was being handcuffed and led away from him after all these years.

It reminded him, unbidden, of another time he had forgotten. The feeling of restraints around his wrists, his throat raw from screaming out, his feet sore from being dragged across hot sand with no shoes - he couldn't hear his mother then, except perhaps a soft goodbye. She was serene then, too.

He didn't know if they were good memories or not.

Now he was doing something he had heard helped with this kind of thing...drinking. A lot. He was sitting at the bar, an array of empty glasses sitting in front of him, swaying on his stool. The sharp-eyed would notice a burn forming at the back of his neck, just under his hairline - from the inside.

He couldn't feel it anymore.

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Chris wasn't often in these sort of places. Places of many, many empty carbs. However, he was terribly lonely and for once he appeared with no Champion at his side. He picked the blonde head out of the crowd instantly, beelining for a familiar face with a soft smile and a forceful point in the other man's direction. "Kevin. What a delightfully coincidental occurence."

Being a few drinks in, it was with a sway and a giggle that he greeted Chris - if his eyes weren't hollows in his face, they would no doubt be bleary.

"Hhhhhhhhhhhhhey, Chris! C'mon-c'mon, sit with me, frrrriend!"

"Of course I will." Chris gingerly slid onto the stool next to Kevin's, ordering a tonic water with extra extra lemon. "Did you know the detoxifying effects of lemon are astronomical? But it's only beneficial if at least half the lemon goes in there. Most people think just a little bit, but in this case, less isn't more. It's just a waste of time."

He took a careful sip of his 'drink' and made a face. Oh, yeah, that was the stuff. "It's absolutely delightful. Would you like to try some?"

"Oh my gosh, I di'n't know that at alllllllll! Er maybe I did, n' I forgot." Another little giggle. He was pretty far gone already. "I'd love to try it! D'you wanna try mine? I have nnnnno idea what's in it but it looks like a sunny day!"

He slid his drink in front of Chris - something bright orange and blood red.

He swapped drinks with the man against his better judgment, if only to prevent alcohol poisoning in the other. At least, that was a convenient excuse for wanting to drown his own worries in something dreadfully sweet. "You're right. A bit easier on the corneias, though." Chris nodded and took a trepidatious sip of the bright drink, sighing at the immediate sugar-rush he receieved from it not a second later. "That is splendid. Even if I am more than certainly positive it contains at least twice my daily sugar alotment."

You only live once, supposedly. Unless, of course, you were an otherworldly tribute like his friend Kevin here. "Are you here alone?" he asked, before another short sip, trying to drain as much of the glass as he could before the inevitable trade-back.

"If you haaaaaave corneas! I don't...think I do, hahaaaaaaaaaa...."

Kevin tried the sip of water - and the lemon was...a little overpowering, but he didn't care. It was nice. Company was nice.

"I am, it's just me! Just ol' Kevin, after a looooooooooooong day." A jolt ran through his neck, and he gave a twitch. A little smoke issued from the flesh on the back of his neck.

"Oh, that's right." Chris looked over and laughed, a short burst of mirth but it was there all the same. "I suppose you don't."

Which was interesting, all on it's own. Keeping Kevin's drink close, he rested his chin on his other hand and leaned a little closer to ~gaze deeply into his eyes~. Soulfully was perhaps the word to best describe it.

"Well, it is a wonderful surprise to see you. Are you meeting someone...?" Only losers drank alone, right? At least, that was what Chris had been led to believe. Though part of him selfishly hoped the answer was no so he wouldn't have to drink alone, himself.

It wasn't hard to stare deeply into Kevin's eyes. They were such deep, dark hollows...endless voids that one could peer into forever. He blinked them, took another sip of the water, and propped himself up on his arm - mirroring Chris's movement.

"Mmm-mmm." The vaguest of negative head shakes.

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnope. Ju-just me. Hey - mebbe I was waitinnn fer you! But I just didn't know it."

His face lit up at that, even as he took another sip of the sickening sweet drink. He was about ready to give it up for his lemon with added water. "That is literally the best theory I have ever heard." Chris grinned and slid the drink back over to Kevin, a little more than half empty now. He usually wouldn't drink out of someone else's glass, but the tributes were taken meticulous care of, health-wise, at least while they were outside of the arena. Still- "You don't... by any chance... carry a crippling virus that has no external symptoms but could kill me on-contact. Do you?"

Even he knew it was out there, but it never hurt to ask, even as he held out his hand for his drink in trade. If he had any inkling that Kevin might be sick at all he wouldn't be sharing a room with him, let alone a drink.

"...Nooo," he assured himself, before Kevin could even get there. "I'm sure you're perfectly healthy. May I ask, if it's not too personal, what your training regimen is?"

Without hesitation, Kevin was going to answer the question - without a lot of thought, either - but he was cut off before he could assure Chri that, no, he didn't have any diseases. Oh well, he seemed to figure it out well enough.

The new question was a little bit harder, though. Especially with his brain as fuzzy as it was.

"Lesse...my trainnnning? Well, I pray a lot...'n I do practice paperwork - and puzzles! Keep my brain sharp." A laugh. His teeth might have been sharper than his brain, looking at that smile. "I guess I don't really think about wh' m' regggggimen is, friend...."

"You don't think about it?" Chris couldn't understand such a thing. "Isn't that the most important thing a tribute can think of?" This was a conundrum indeed.

He took a sip of his water again, and it was so bitter against the concoction Kevin had that he almost spit it out, despite its beneficial qualities. Whoever the equivalent of Dr. Oz in the Capitol was would not be happy with Chris in this moment. Who decided to motion the bartender for a wine instead. At least it was full of antioxidants...!

"Especially one in peak physical condition like yourself." Don't think you're special, Kevin, he would say this to any girl :')

"Not reallyyyyy?" A blink. He really HADN'T thought about it...not in those terms, anyway. He took his drink back and happily sipped from it, enjoying the sweetness and the numbness both. It was all helping him remember to let himself forget.

Oops, thought too hard about that again. Another jolt.

He raised his eyebrows at that last bit, though. What a nice compliment! He reached out with one hand, laying it over Chris's in an oddly tender fashion.

"Gosh...that's so nice of you to say! But...b-but I think it's reaaaaaaaally import'n't to use y'r brain in the arena! Right? Riiiight? Form allies-ances...."

A hiccup. He drained his drink and signaled for something else.

Oh wow Kevin was drunk. Like really drunk. Chris hadn't even had a chance to touch his wine before the other man's hand came down over his. He didn't try and wave him off, however, setting his other hand on the pile in some sort of attempted reassurance. "Did your... neck just smoke?" That wasn't normal, right? Chris squeezed Kevin's hand in concern.

Aw. That reassuring squeeze was really nice.

It took Kevin a moment of thought to figure out what Chris was talking about...and then it clicked, however fuzzy. He gestured in a vague, non-committal wave.

"Oh - yyyyeah, yeah that's j'st...that's my chip. I need to forget...but I haven't, so it's - it's been going a whiiiile."

"Your chip." It really did nothing to assure him, which was why he wasn't withdrawing either of his hands yet. "You have a chip in your head."

Again, it wasn't computing. He couldn't connect the words to what they meant and he wasn't even the drunk one. Had the Game-makers done this to him? Chris leaned a little closer, eager to pick up the words as they fell out of Kevin's mouth, slurred though they were.

"What do you need to forget?"

"Actuallyyyyyy...it's in m' neck."

He leaned forward and pointed so that Chris could see it - the spot just below his hairline where his flesh was searing and smoking under the pulses of electricity coursing up into his brain.

He was quiet for a moment...taking a long sip from his new drink, eyebrows knitting together in thought.

"...The dark. I need t' f'rget...the dark. An' everybody...in it."

Was that a quiver in his voice?

That burn was looking...angry.

The dark. The man was speaking in riddles and seemed injured. Chris was suddenly grateful he hadn't imbibed yet, wanting very much to get to the bottom of this and get Kevin healthy again. "I don't understand." But he desperately wanted to, hand lifting from Kevin's hand to hover between them. He wanted to touch it, but he didn't want to cause the man any more pain. "Does it hurt?"

"Th' chip? Nnnnno, it - I don' really feel 't 'nymoreeee...you c'n see fer yourself, 's really not that bad!"

He leaned down to let Chris get a nice, close look.

It was that bad. He just couldn't feel it.

But the quiver was still there in his voice regardless - a floodgate had been cracked open again, and he was struggling to rebuild the dam.

After a long moment of silence, he decided to address Chris's lack of understanding. His voice was quieter - slower - like he was trying to put it together himself.

"...Wh'n I wassa kid...it was...dark. Everything. Dark. There wasn' ANY light at all! 'N...my fam'ly was there. But now 'ere's light 'n my fam'ly is gooooooone and I need to forget again...."

A tear rolled out of one of the voids where his eyes should be. Then another. Still smiling.

"...So I can be efficient. I need t'...forget the dark. 'N...everything in it."

Tentatively, he reached out, touching the skin below the chip with a bit of a grimace. "Kevin, you're..." He meant to say something else, but then the alarm is all the more clear when he sees a tear splash down against the counter. "You're crying."

The skin was HOT - still burning. It wasn't going to stop until Kevin did.

Sniffling, he laughs a little - it's a weird sound, somewhere near a sob. He's sobbing, and he doesn't really know he is yet.

"Th's...tha's SILLY...." He swayed hard, tears coursing down his cheeks down. "...I...I...."

A hiccup. He looked to Chris, something pleading in his expression.

"...I can't cry...."

"Of course you can cry, everyone can cry." It's reassuring, encouraging even as he pulls his fingers away before he can injure himself on Kevin's skin. Chris frowns, uncharacteristically, and stands up with decisive action. "We should go now. Even I think crying in public is a little... unkouth."

But it's not said without humor; it isn't meant to be cruel. He just wants Kevin away from this place where he can hopefully talk to him. Where he can pick this apart and make it make sense and feed him kale juice until he sobers up.

"Nooo, n-no, I - hic - I caaaaaaaaaaan't...."

He looks at Chris as he stands, clearly confused by his own emotions. He touches his own face and nearly panics at the moisture there. The tear ducts ache. They haven't been put to use in a long time.

His eyebrows furrow, incongruous with his grin.

"Chriiiiis...help me?"

He holds his hand out to Kevin, wondering if his hand will be just as hot as his neck, but he's willing to take the risk. Everyone claimed to care so much about these Tributes while they were fighting one another to the death. But while they were here? In house? Who would look out for them? Who would care about them? People like Kevin and Fee had taught him that what he'd been taught his whole life about the Games simply wasn't so.

They weren't good. Nothing about them was. And he's not sure he can stand being a part of it anymore.

"Come on, Kevin. I've got you."

In spite of himself, Kevin stands - his hand is, mercifully, normal in temperature when he takes Chris's, lightly trembling and unsteady on his feet. He lurches forward and leans on Chris.

He's a mess.

"Yer...suuuuch a good fr'nd," he chokes out, still crying uncontrollably.

"I do try to be the very best friend I can be," he agrees softly, arm coming securely around Kevin's shoulder. He spares a glance to the bar and lays some money on for his untouched drink and some extra in case Kevin owed anything.

And now they're walking, as slowly as he can manage, towards the door. "One foot in front of the other, you have absolutely got this."

Grateful for the assistance, Kevin leans heavy on Chris, stumbling his way along with him.

"...I...do. I've got...got this."

He hiccuped on his tears, barely able to walk.

This was why he doesn't drink.

Chris trained every day, he could all but carry Kevin if need be. As it was, he gently supported him while avoiding the hot flesh of his neck.

"We'll get you some electrolytes and a little rest and you'll be good as new. Better, even."

At this rate, he was going to need to carry him.

He didn't respond, instead lapsing into tears again. These ones were edged with something new, though - pain. He was feeling the pain.

He wasn't used to it, fairly crumpling into Chris's arms.

Stephen knew that, under these circumstances, drinking was irresponsible.

If asked, Stephen would say that he was here looking for his wayward Tribute, and no, of course he wasn't tempted by the alcohol at all, ha ha, not while he was working!

He slid into the seat next to Kevin at the bar -- but not so close that he couldn't pull away if it looked like Kevin was reaching for his neck -- and looked sidelong at the row of glasses in front of Kevin. He whistled.

"Rough week, huh?"

The grinning man was so lost in his own reverie that he didn't even see Stephen approach. It wasn't until the whistle that he snapped to attention, the brightly-colored cocktail in his glass sloshing a bit onto the counter.

He blinked at Stephen. Then he just giggled.

"Wassit? Gosh, I'm jjjjjust...having some trouble rememb'ring."

Carefully, he put a hand on Kevin's shoulder -- gingerly, ready to yank it away at any sudden movement.

"Kevin," Stephen said, gently. "I think it's time to go home. Don't you?"

Kevin stared for a moment at Stephen, almost dumbly...and then when he spoke, it was with audible confusion.

"Home...?" A sway that almost knocked him off his stool. "You're l-letting me g't back to Desert Bluffs? I m'n, this place's great but I have sooooooooooo much work to catch up on...."

Something hits him, and his eyes widen.

"Wait. Who's b'n doing the radio if I've been here? Did - did th' comp'ny appoint someone? Innnnntern?"

"Oh, dear. No, not home, not yet. You're going back to the Tribute tower."

Stephen felt a twinge of guilt; he didn't mean to give Kevin false hope there.

"I'm sure they've gotten someone very competent to handle the radio while you were gone." He patted Kevin on the back of the shoulder.

"Oh."

Maybe there was a little disappointment there, but with a visible spark at the back of his neck, it was squashed. He smiled in a relaxed fashion, nodding his head a little bit.

"...'F course they did! I MEAN, IT IS Strexcorp Synin - Seneye - S'n'r'nst - it IS Strexcorp, they knooooow what they're doing. An' so do I. I'm asssolutely fine."

Stephen did a double take. Was the back of Kevin's neck sparking? Surreptitiously, Stephen tried to get a closer look.

"Of course you are," he said, craning his neck as casually as he possibly could, trying to get a glimpse under the professional button-up shirt collar. "But are you fine enough to walk by yourself?"

His neck absolutely had sparked. There was an angry-looking burn peeking out between his hair and his collar...something scorching the flesh from the inside. He didn't seem to notice.

"Why wouldn' I be? I'll b- I'll betcha I could walk 'nywher' noooooo problem!"

"I'm sure," said Stephen soothingly, as he stared at the burn in horror. "But it's never a bad thing to have a little help. How would you like to have some help walking back to the Tribute center?"

As he said this, Stephen had his communicator out, calling for a cab, a doctor to look at that burn, and at least two peacekeepers.

"'M not - m' not doooone yet here, Stephen!"

He took a healthy gulp from the drink he had in hand, stray liquid trickling from the edges of his mouth.

"Not tha' I dun...........apprec'te the offur."

Hooboy.

Stephen, gathering his courage, placed one hand on Kevin's wrist and gently tried to remove the drink with the other.

"Kevin, as your Escort and as a sober man, I really feel it would be best for you to come back."

Kevin's grip tightened on his drink - and his other hand clapped over Stephen's wrist, holding it...just a little too tight. Not necessarily on purpose - he's quite drunk and too strong for his own good - but there's something dangerous behind his slurred words.

"...Steph'n, ass yer Tribute - I'm fine.

Really."

Stephen hissed in a breath and winced -- and tried, gently, to tug his hand free. He stopped, though, as movement sent a lance of pain through it.

"All right," he said quickly. "All right, I'll leave you alone. Please let go of me."

"Okay!"

Obediently, Kevin did let go - acting like nothing had just happened, like there hadn't been anything dark and dour behind his strange smile. He sipped from his drink.

"Seeeee, I'm jus' fine. C'n hannle myself! Noooooo problem!"

Stephen, as surreptitiously as he could, checked his wrist and was dismayed to find a red mark blooming on the skin. He winced again, reassessing the situation.

As a Capitol citizen, he enjoyed a certain amount of privileges when it came to Tributes. One of those was that if a Tribute attacked him, that Tribute would be punished harshly. Stephen thought of Penny, and of what had happened to Guy, and his lips press into a thin line.

No, it was better to keep the Peacekeepers away from here. If they saw the mark on Stephen's wrist, they might conclude that Kevin had put it there, and that was a situation Stephen didn't want.

So, he stood, unsure if Kevin should be left alone, but certain that Kevin would be better off without him, and cancelled his call for Peacekeepers.

"Right," he said. "I can see that. Just -- try to stay out of trouble, all right? I'll see you back at the Tribute center."

On his way out, Stephen would pull the bartender aside, slip him a hundred assi, and ask him to make sure Kevin was taken care of.

"I-I will, Steph'n, I will. I promise! I...g'night."

And then he was left again to his reverie...fighting against the jolts and the burning and the feelings that the alcohol could not silence.

If you see something, say nothing.

And drink to forget.

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Now I remember the joy and the meaning of the fate....

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