thecapitol | we wine, we dine, and everything is fine [open!]

Who| Everyone still in the Capitol. If the Hunger Games is a significant part of your life, or if you wield any influence at all in the Capitol, you've received an invitation. Unless you're Victory Hannibal.
What| Week 1 viewing party! It's horror-movie/monster themed, so break out your best sexy witch/vampire/mummy costumes! Also, feel free to use it for sponsor schmoozing.
Where| A ballroom, and some adjacent rooms.
When| Just before the Arena begins, and into the night.
Warnings/Notes| Watch this space for warnings. Also, feel free to make closed threads amongst yourselves, but Stephen will likely at some point come up to greet you personally. If you think your Capitol character would be familiar with the Reagan family, make an OOC note, and I'll give you a quick rundown on their sordid past.

There is a fog machine.

The fog hovers around the guests' knees and ankles, doing nothing to impede visibility or movement, but it creates a ~mysterious~ atmosphere. The ballroom is modest, by Capitol standards, able to comfortably hold about a hundred people. There's plenty of space. The room is dimly lit from concealed sources that nonetheless throw the guests' shadows into frightening shapes on the wall. There are tables laden with food along one wall, and plenty of comfortable seating, for projected onto the far wall is a live feed from the Games.

Through the doors are smaller, more intimate rooms, with cushy couches and a smaller screen apiece for watching the Games a little more privately. One pair of double-doors leads out onto a balcony with a beautiful view of the city.

Everyone who received the invitation was informed of the theme, of course: no pressure, but if you want your outfit to match (and he's sure you do), make sure it's a little bit -- spooky.

Stephen himself, tastefully attired in a shimmery black suit, cape, and vampire teeth, is moving about the guests, giving friendly greetings to those he knows, making polite conversation with those he does not, ensuring that everybody (or at least, everybody possible) is having a good time. So what if his smile looks a little fixed, every once in a while? It's a party. What could possibly be wrong?

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She tried to stifle a cough, but it came out as a wheeze instead as she draped the cape around her like it was a blanket. "Thanks. You know, I wouldn't wish this on anybody. Not even on people I hate. I feel like I'm dying."

"Good god. What do you have?" Stephen asked, not without morbid fascination. "Do you even know?" He would have asked why she hadn't done the sensible thing and stayed home, but Stephen Reagan knew just how important party appearances could be. He didn't like having sick guests, but he couldn't fault Jessica for needing to make an appearance. It was actually almost stalwart, how long she had lasted in her freezing dress with her wheezy cough. Disgusting, but stalwart.

"I don't know," she snapped, cut off by a hacking, gagging sound in her throat. "I'm not a doctor. All I know is that I'm miserable."

All she wanted was to curl up and sleep for days, but the thought of lying down made her cough in anticipation. If she couldn't breathe upright, how could she breathe on her back?

"I just hope it was contagious in the suites before the Tributes were sent into the arena. Can you imagine if they all got sick?"

Stephen shook his head. "It would be terrible," he sighed. "The conditions in this Arena aren't suited to that. It's all about stealth and staying hidden, and an uncontrollable cough would put the physically weaker Tributes at a disadvantage." There was regret in his voice, both because Stephen felt for the younger Tributes and because a hacking cough would ruin the suspense.

Jessica wasn't really thinking about the suspense factor so much as she was thinking about the suffering. Which was, all things said, a new one for her. "Maybe that's part of the plan this time," she mused. "Maybe they want a time limit on it, like they had in the maze."

"But if that's the case, why would the infection have spread to the Capitol?" The wheels in Stephen's head turned, and he decided on no. "Whatever you've got, I doubt the Tributes were meant to catch it."

She coughed again, covering her mouth and nose. "But what'll happen if we're still sick when they start to come back?" She glanced around the room toward Chris Traeger, who quite honestly looked like a wreck. "I seriously hope this isn't fatal."

"It's not fatal," Stephen said breezily. "If everything Chris Traeger said could kill you actually killed you, we'd be down about three-quarters of the population. I'm sure a week or two of bed rest will clear it right up."

Jessica sniffled, not really convinced. Still, this was a decent distraction from the pain in her lungs. "Chris is a nice guy. He's just... not exactly realistic about that kinda thing."

Stephen shook his head, amused.

"Listen, speaking of bed rest. I appreciate that you made it, but tonight might be a night to duck out early." For once, he wasn't making a dig at her; she really did look miserable. He admired her commitment, he really did, but she was really sick. Those drinks probably weren't helping, either.

"Is this your way of saying I look like shit?" She tried to give her a smirk, but instead she just looked grey and unhappy. "Okay, okay, I get it. I'm going home."

Stephen was about to reply with another quip, like don't let the door hit you on the way out, but couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Sorry," he said. "I can't pick on you when you look that sad. It would be like kicking a kitten. A sneezing kitten." Stephen pulled a face.

"I guess that's my cue." She lingered a moment as she walked passed Stephen and she turned her head to exchange looks with him. "Enjoy the party, Stephen. I expect a full update. You'll let me know if anyone does anything stupid, right?"

"Every sordid detail," he promised.

we wine, we dine, and everything is fine [open!]

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