thecapitol | blah blah void blah blah spiders blah blah science [open]

Who| Carlos and anyone
What| Since Carlos's survival hinges on his ability to act like he doesn't care, he's going about his business as usual. Even though he and Cecil had a very short-lived but very public romantic relationship, he's acting like he doesn't care. Come make his life harder. Come ask him how he feels.
Where| The D10 rooms, a coffeeshop, and the Speakeasy
When| After Penny and Cruentus's classy, classy announcement.
Warnings/Notes Possible mention of torture, drinking in the last prompt. Also, the first two prompts will involve Carlos denying any real feelings for Cecil. If you want an honest discussion with him, it'll have to be in the Speakeasy.

PROMPT A: D10 common room

Carlos had known what to expect. Penny had announced that Cecil would be avoxed, after all. He had known this was coming.

That had not made keeping a straight face during the broadcast any easier.

He turned off his communicator and knew that if he was going to make this act convincing, he couldn't hide up in his room all day. Carlos hated this act. It was like he had told one lie in the Arena and hadn't been able to stop lying since. It disgusted him. However, he knew that at this point, he had no choice.

There was no need to fake the irritation on Carlos's face as he walked out into the D10 common area and sat down in one of the chairs. He pulled out a notebook and began to scribble in it. Was he writing or drawing? It would be hard to tell...

PROMPT B: TRIBUTE CENTER COMMONS: GENERIC CAPITOL COFFEESHOP

Here Carlos was, sitting in the very place Dave had brought his last words to Cecil, drinking something too hot for the midsummer weather and talking into his tape recorder. If you get close enough, you might hear snatches of what he was saying:

"--correct about my impending death--"

"--new tactic--"

"--willingly cooperate--"

This part of the Tribute center was open to the public: anyone might pass by and see him.

PROMPT C: THE SPEAKEASY

Carlos wasn't one to drink out of sadness. Not usually. He had been in and out of the Speakeasy these past few weeks, having important discussions about the rebellion.

This time, though, he was after some self-administered emotional numbing.

"I don't even know what's in this," he muttered to himself, staring at the half-empty glass in front of him, which was a mass of swirling colors.

PROMPT D: ELEVATORS

Being two floors from the top meant that Carlos stood a solid chance of sharing an elevator on the way two and from the D10 rooms. He was used to it, and usually, didn't mind it. Today, however, it was all but a guarantee that whoever he ended up in the elevator with would be awkward as hell, and Carlos was really tired of dealing with it. He shifted from foot to foot in his lab coat, trying not to sigh when the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Well, yes," Carlos agreed, glancing over. "Of course we want to be happy. But there are very specific circumstances in place right now that prevent us from being happy. And given the unchangeable nature of those circumstances, finding happiness anywhere else is..."

He trailed off, looking for the words.

"Difficult," he settled on. "Disrespectful," he added a moment later, changing his mind. "Scientifically speaking, it's just not possible."

That would have to do.

He took another pull at his drink, embracing the illogically masochistic facts of inebriation.

They ran into each other often enough the ten suites that Wyatt wasn't fazed by the long-winded speech. He merely nodded instead, accepting the point for what it was, and held out his glass.

"To misery."

Clink.

Another swallow.

"If it helps," Carlos said, "everything is impermanent. Nothing is forever. So our circumstances have to change sooner or later, right?"

Wyatt snorted dryly, mouth twisting into a wry, dark smile.

"True enough," he agreed, rumbling into his glass. "It can always get worse."

His heart thumped, an ache under his ribs as he imagined how.

"But it might get better," said Carlos, watching the colors in his glass fade. "I mean, it's not very likely, but it's not impossible, right?"

His glass tipped, just a small silver of amber left, puddling around the ice chips.

"No," he murmured after a beat. "Good does happen, every now an' again."

He'd been lucky, hadn't he, to be so happy for as long as he had. Not everyone got even that much.

"When it does, make sure ya appreciate it."

Carlos's eyes dropped, and a fresh wave of guilt washed over him.

"I wish I had," he said. "I was wrong about something very important. That is one, but not all, of the reasons I am in this bar."

Wyatt's expression shifted, softened with understanding.

"I won't claim to know exactly what yer feelin', but if it helps, I was wrong too."

Over and over. Worse and worse.

He glanced over at Wyatt. "...do you want to talk about it?" he asked, though he didn't really expect Wyatt to open up. Wyatt had always struck Carlos as a private person, and whatever was going on with him would probably stay locked up under his cowboy hat.

"Ain't nothin' to be done for it," Wyatt sighed. "So there ain't any reason to be spreadin' it around other than to hear myself talk."

He held up his glass, seeking the bartender's eye.

"'Sides," he glanced back over at Carlos, "talkin' 'bout it makes me even sadder than the drinkin'."

"Just checking," Carlos replied, looking back at the smooth wooden surface of the bar in front of him. "I don't really want to talk about mine, either. I mean, it's all public anyway. If you've been paying attention at all you can probably guess most of it." A heavy sigh.

"I try not too," he admitted. "The Capitol's already all up in everything, nobody needs me hangin' on every word too."

Not until the Capitol made it his problem at any rate.

"It's hard to avoid." Carlos took another pull at his drink. "I can't help knowing exactly what the Capitol thinks of what I've been doing. On the one hand, it's useful to have feedback. On the other, it's..."

He shook his head.

"It's very important that a scientist have a good reputation," he said, in a tone that made it perfectly clear that right now his reputation was anything but.

"Bein' in good standin' don't mean much here," Wyatt told him. "Not comin' from their judgement."

He finished off his glass, head tipping back to catch the last of it, and the straightened back in his chair. The glass clicking back onto the bar.

"Better for a man to hold himself to himself."

"But I can't," said Carlos miserably. "I am lying a lot more than I'm comfortable with. Honesty is crucial to being a scientist, but if I don't lie, then I'm putting people I care about in danger." This dilemma had been eating him ever since he came back from the last Arena. "Being in the Capitol has made ethical conduct a scientific impossibility!"

"Ya rather live out the other option?" Wyatt asked, looking over blandly as the bartender refilled his glass. "I'd rather be called a liar than know I caused the death er worse of somebody I loved."

He picked up his fresh drink, eyes sliding forward again, fixing into the middle distance behind the bar.

"I can live with a few white lies."

"No, I know," he said, just as miserable. "Lying is clearly the only option. I just really hate doing it." Carlos wasn't a natural liar. He wasn't good at it. He had already hurt Cecil with a lie he had confessed to. He was probably hurting Cecil more with this he-was-only-a-sponsor act. The things he was saying in public made him feel like the scum on the bottom of a chemical-disposal sink.

Wyatt was silent a moment, then he nodded.

"If they're worth anythin' at all, they understand."

It wasn't as if he liked lying either, but he'd certainly done it, knowing it was the only way to keep those he loved safe. Max had understood that. Hadn't held it against him.

"An' once it's done, ya can look forward to spendin' the rest of yer life makin' up for it."

Carlos's shoulders relaxed as he mulled that idea over. It sounded really nice. "Thanks," he said, after a long moment. "It's good to hear that from someone else. Getting confirmation that my current actions are the correct ones is reassuring." He appreciated it, he truly did.

He snorted, shook his head gently as he lifted his glass again.

"Well, I can't promise it'll all turn up roses," he said. The road to hell wasn't paved with good intentions for nothing. "But given the choices, I'd say yer given yerself the best chance."

He nodded. "...I should go," he said, glancing at his mostly-finished drink. "Maybe spend some time at another bar. I've been in and out of here a lot lately, and I don't want to look suspicious."

Wyatt nodded, and raised his glass again in a small toast.

"Good luck."

"You too," said Carlos quietly. He meant it.

Grateful that he had run into Wyatt and with a mind that was a little more at ease, Carlos stood, and left.

blah blah void blah blah spiders blah blah science [open]

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