thecapitol | (no subject)

Entry tags:

✘ deanna winchester

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Who| De and Open
What| Enjoying her last few days. Again.
Where| Around the Capitol. Hot springs/spa, amusement park, and pretty much any restaurant or bar.
When| A few days before the arena
Warning/Notes| Feel free to hit her up in any location. Also she has not been clued in that she comes back to life again, but feel free to inform her.

This really was not what she expected hell to be like.

But, well, if she was going to die, she might as well live it up till then. This was probably gonna bite her in the ass in some sort of gluttony type irony, but the last round of all this? She didn't really get to enjoy it in <i>style.</i>

Massages. Arcade binges. Every kind of delicious food she could think of. And everyone here treated her like a movie star. Which was it's own level of fucked up, all things considered.

Really, this could be worse. At least so far.

Even if it was lacking in a few things. Like her sister.

But she wasn't going to focus on that. She was going to enjoy her last few days on Earth. or wherever the hell this was.

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Ever since Elias has told him the truth about what happened behind The Speakeasy's doors, Wyatt had made it his home away home whenever he needed a break from the Training Center.

There were still some that came up and fell all over themselves in front of him, yammerin' on about what he had and hadn't done in the arena, but somehow it was easier to swallow here.

Here where he now knew secret allies were keepin' an eye out.

"Howdy, cowboy."

Although De was, maybe, secretly enjoying have a city with free flowing girly drinks, nothing in the world could beat a nice shot of something that burned smooth on the way down.

And this place looked like it might provide.

And the cowboy at the bar was a bonus.

Speaking of unavoidable things, there was that word again.

Always.

A long suffering exhale blew through his nose, but he reminded himself that they couldn't help it and managed to sound polite enough as he replied, touching a finger to the brim of his hat.

"Ma'am."

At least she didn't sound Capitol. Or look it.

A fellow tribute was easier to forgive. They usually didn't mean anything by it.

She arched a brow at that.

Were manners part of the gig? If so, he certainly had them down pat.

"Is old west some sort Capitol sub style, or do you just come with the setting?" She asked, smirking over at him.

He set down his glass and turned to get a better look at her.

"It's a part of me, Miss. I'm a tribute too, and yer 'old west,' as ya call it, is where they snatched me from."

"Oh."

Well. Now didn't she feel dumb. Opps.

But also...a real cowboy? That had her attention.

"Yeah, where are you from?"

"Dodge City, iffen you mean where as in place," he replied. "1878 iffen you mean where as in time."

Would she be one of the ones that recognized him? Mentally he started placing bets as he watched her face and held out a hand.

"Wyatt Earp."

She was already perking up at Dodge City. This was pretty much the last place she expected to find someone from Kansas, and it gave a happy little thrill of nostalgia.

And then he said his name.

And her face slowly lit up.

"Like...like the Wyatt Earp?!"

In his head, he was raking in chips.

Outwardly, the corner of his mouth twitched. "So I'm told."

What for, he still didn't know, and that still made him a uneasy - a might uncomfortable - but a reaction like hers....

Well, he'd be a liar if he said that wasn't hard to resist.

A lot of the magic of life had been sucked out pretty early on for De.

But man, if watching her right now wasn't like seeing a kid on Christmas.

"Like...like Tombstone Wyatt Earp? Like, O.K. Corrals Wyatt Earp? Like...are you fucking kidding me?"

She may have just said 'like' more than any other time in her life.

"Tombstone?" A dark eyebrow lifted curiously. "As in Arizona?"

He'd heard of it, sure. It had been making quite a name for itself amongst the ranchers and silver miners back in his day, but he'd never been there.

Unless...

"So I reckon I didn't stay in Dodge then, huh?" he asked, sipping from his glass and watching De bemusedly. It didn't really surprise him much. He'd moved along often enough before Dodge, and without Dora... well, there would've been even less reason to stay.

(OOC: To hopefully save you more googling: he didn't arrive in Tombstone until 1879. One year after the canon point he was snatched from and he went because his brothers were buying rights into a silver mine and they asked him to go in on it. The gunfight wasn't until 1881.)

Edited 2013-01-28 12:28 (UTC)

"...less Kurt Russel then."

Still, she couldn't keep the grin offer her face. Wyatt Earp. The real Wyatt Earp.

Hell, this made all this almost worth while.

"Yeah, uhh...you make it to Tombstone."

He looked around, eyeing their current surroundings thoughtfully, then turned back to her, his expression uncertain.

Strange to think of things he did - was meant to do - that others knew of, but that he hadn't done yet. Possibly would never do, if he never found a way home.

"Well, I reckon that makes the decision what to do when I get back a hell of a lot easier," he remarked finally.

A part of him wanted to ask, to know at last, what all the fuss was about... but another part hesitated. Facing it now and knowing he wouldn't be able to take it back, he wondered how wise it was for a man to know everything about his own future.

Chewing it over, he asked instead, "Who's Kurt Russell?"

Aw shit, she was probably creating some kind of space/time paradox.

But too late now. Might as well go for broke.

"He's an actor. Who plays you. In the movie Tombstone."

There was a beat. Then Wyatt laughed, the ice in his glass clinking merrily.

"Yer twistin' my ear," he accused her, without malice.

Tony had expained what movies where once, and he couldn't imagine what would possess anyone to make one about him.

Sure, he'd had some popluarity in his day, the papers (and Buntline) lovin' any opportunity to use his name in print, but one of those movin' picture deals?

"Hell no. Me and my sister must have gone to see that movie 5 times in the winter of '93"

Because going to go see movies made up for being stuck alone in a small town for the Holidays. But that wasn't really important to this conversation.

In the face of her continued seriousness, his amusement faded and his brow furrowed.

"What in the Sam hell for? Buntline's books I understand, the 'wild west' was new and excitin' for the folks back East. The folks who didn't know what it was really like. But surely you folks had better things worthy of yer attention?"

He was just a man who had done his job. And, if he were honest, a man not particularly any different than the others that served at the time. Men like Bat. And Charlie.

She shrugged.

"It was a good story. And...people with good stories can make them more than those stories."

Sam hell. She grinned a little at that.

He looked at her, for a long considering moment, his eyes narrowed.

Then, "I wanna know. But I also don't. Iffen I ever make up my mind, will ya tell me this 'good' story?"

Edited 2013-02-04 11:43 (UTC)

Her face broke out in another big, childish grin.

"Of course I will."

Tell her childhood hero about his own adventures? She sure as hell would.

Dean was getting in some relaxation before he had to go and battle for his life yet again. Sure, he knew he was going to come back from it, and sure, he'd once died over a hundred times in one day, but it was still stressful every time he thought about it. So, to get his full relaxation on, he decided to spend some time at the hot springs/spa. The hot water did a body good, and he would need it for the amount of running he was about to to.

Looking around, he spotted a very cute girl sitting in the hot tub, and a smirk rose on his face. Why not get his flirt, and possibly more, on before the games began? Sure, he had Ari, but he had no idea where they stood or if they were anything short of friends with benefits. So, the freckle-faced hunter walked over, in all his shirtless, bow-legged glory, and slid into the hot tub next to De, a friendly smile on his face.

"Hey there sweetheart."

"Hey." De looked up at the guy, and grinned. Well then.

After all the men she had seen around here, it was refreshing to see someone who didn't look like they belonged in plum satin. She lifted her head up, twisting to face him, and glad she had bought the bikini that made her boobs look good.

Sam wants her to give her "the look" if she found a nice lay before death. Again.

The bikini was definitely something Dean noticed, having licked his lips as he looked over the woman, what she could see of her anyway.

"Haven't seen you around here. New to the blood bath?"

"Brand spanking new." She said, giving him an ok with her finger and a wink. Because she had yet a way to avoid what seemed inevitable, so until she did? She wasn't going to let it drag her down.

Ironic, to just end up doing the same song and dance, once again.

"You too?"

Shakes his head, "Nope. Not new. This is my second go around. Though, dying once and coming back to life, not the strangest idea for me. Been there, done that, over one hundred times."

Two things about that snagged her attention.

One, that he had done this whole arena thing before, and lived through it.

Two, that this guy had done that a bunch of times before. It wasn't really a trait De had expected to find in common with someone in the dating pool. Not that she had really expected to ever been in the dating pool again.

"Wait, so you did this before and came back to life?"

They'd deal with point B later. You didn't just ask a guy about that.

Nodding, "Yeah. You die and then they fix ya up right after, and then you go on your merry way. My head was bitten off by a teenage mutant ninja turtle in the last arena. Don. One of my friends. It was interesting. But died, woke up in my room, and then I went out partying. That's how it works here. Pretty fun, I guess. Minus the fighting for your life and dying part."

"Interesting is one way to put it."

So, dying and living, over and over again. Except this in between? Their had to be some catch.

The turtle thing, being literal, wasn't even something she considered just yet.

"And that's it?"

Dean nods, "Yeah. Make appearances, party. That's basically what we do between arenas. Much easier to handle than hell, I'll tell ya that much."

"...you've been to hell?"

Now back to the dying and coming back part. Because that actually was something very near and dear to her heart.

And if this wasn't hell then...what the hell?

There was another out that night that did not know his death would not be temporary.

An old gentleman sat at some bar he had not bothered to learn the name of. He knew before he went out that his status as a tribute would be no secret - evidence of age was not something the general population of the Capitol seemed to like to keep, but that he had plenty of. His design team had also given him an aristocratic military uniform that looked too formal and too muted against the usual Capitol style. He stood out.

Still, he had managed to spend the night without much company. Sigma stared into the dark concoction the bartender had given him, wondering how drunk he could afford to get. Going into the arena with a massive hangover would not be advisable.

His hands trembled at his glass. Dying was something the Doctor was not fond of.

One of these things was not like the other.

She wasn't sure about approaching at first. Getting to know the people she was about to be put to the death against didn't seem the best idea. But she also hadn't bought into their plan just yet, and the old man looked too mesriable for De to just...walk away from.

"Are you a tribute?"

It wasn't hard to tell that she was, too. She had ditched her stylist clothes as soon as she could, and had done her best to make something comfortable out of what she could find in the Capitol's shops. Luckily, between many styles, she had managed to find a pair of leggings and a short dress that, though not her preference, at least didn't looks ridiculous.

Apparently these people didn't know what jeans were.

Sigma jumped slightly. Those words were the first exchange he'd had since he arrived that hadn't sounded like some sort of threat. The same dilemma that struck his guest ran through his head as well, and it took a few moments before he swiveled slowly on the stool to face her. If she was a citizen, she didn't look nearly as outlandish as the rest.

He adjusted what appeared to be a thick, clunky monocle on his face. "Yes," he answered tentatively. "And what might that mean to you?"

"That were both in the same fucked up hand basket."

She offered a sardonic smile, giving a little shrug.

"I'm also on the chopping block." She gestured to the stool next to him. "Mind if I grab a drink with you?"

His expression darkens at her admission. She didn't seem as upset as he was about their circumstances, but everyone coped differently, he supposed.

"I'm sorry. And not at all," Dr. Klim eventually answers, pulling his credit card from his pocket. He turns back towards the bar, looking for the bartender. "What did you want?"

"Just a beer. Do they have beer here?"

Probably microbrew. A place like this wouldn't have cheap beer. But she had had enough fluff.

Sliding into the stool next to him, she leaned up to the bar to get the bar tenders attention.

"What's your name?"

The Doctor smirked with what might have been his first smile all week. "Wouldn't be a very reputable bar if they didn't." As the bartender neared, he slid the credit card forward to show he was willing to pay. As he saw it, he wouldn't be around to pay it off, anyway.

"...Dr. Sigma Klim." He turned and extended his arm for a handshake, forcing himself to stop shaking. He had company, now. "But I suppose titles no longer matter. You may address me however you wish. And you are?"

"Nice to meet you Doc. I'm De, De Winchester."

She took his hand, shaking it firmly with a warm smile. Because why the hell not, she was having drinks, she had sort of already blown the whole 'don't friend other tributes' things, so hey. Go big or go home.

"A pleasure, Miss W-" Sigma stopped himself. This was a bar, not one of his labs, and there was no reason to be formal. He laughed and shook his head. "De."

After ordering her drink, Sigma took a swig of his own for the first time. The ice had already almost melted. "Well, since we'll be drinking together, you have an important job tonight. It's up to you to cut me off when I get too drunk to fight tomorrow. Can you handle that?"

"I'll do my best, but I dunno if you want to put your life in my hands. Or at least your sobriety."

She laughed, taking a drink of her own beer.

"How long have you been here?"

"Hmmm... How is this: You are to cut me off once I start hitting on you. ...In fact, maybe it's best if you only allow me two drinks."

He meant it to be a joke, but it comes off more awkward than he intended. ..God, it was difficult to be smooth in one's old age. He waved his hand to show he was kidding. He only hoped he was.

"A-About two weeks, now. Enough time to drive myself crazy, in any case. Yourself?"

She cracked up, giving him a companionable nod. Don't worry buddy, De got use to being hit on by creepy guys at bars long ago.

"Not long at all. Enough time to make my last confessions, and sin my last-"

She trailed off, with a shrug, knowing it was an awkward place to stop. Was this hell? It was weirder then she had imagined, and she was starting to feel maybe it wasn't. But either way she needed to cut it with all the hell fire and brimstone shit.

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(no subject)

The Speakeasy?

:D

:D

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Holy shit I just googled him to write this tag. Dat moustach.

It brought errbody to the yard.

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