thecapitol | Hell hath no fury like an 11 year old

Entry tags:

Hell hath no fury like an 11 year old

Who| Clementine and Dave, Clementine and OTA
What| Clementine finds out she's not a victor
Where| the District 6 suite
When| A few days after the Ship mini-arena
Warnings/Notes|

[Open in D6]

[The anger is palpable in Clementine's small frame. All the relief of winning the mini-arena has turned to ashes in her mouth with the revelation that neither she nor any of the other winners are Victors. They won't get to be mentors, they won't get out of the next arena. They're going to have to do it all over again after all.

Sure, she's going to get some kind of special care package in the next arena, whatever that means (and she's curious, she is, just she's so furious right now) as well as immunity but...

They didn't warn them before, they let them all believe they were safe from having to die over and over again for days, they let them believe they had a chance of escape when they were fighting for survival on board that ship.

It's amazing the new depths the Capitol can sink to.

Clementine drops the gift basket on the coffee table in the middle of the District 6 suite. She barely wants any of what's inside, better to let her district mates enjoy what's in it if they can. Especially the champagne, because really? It just shows how little concern these people have for them that they put that in her basket.]

[Closed to Dave]

[It shouldn't have been so hard for the two of them to run into each other, they were to and fro in each others Districts often enough after all. But Clementine and Dave seemed to have managed to keep passing each other by like two ships in the night (and that analogy is not a fun one right now) so far.

The memory of what happened to him is probably the worst one she carries of that day. She can't help thinking that if only she'd been stronger, if only she could have pulled herself up, if she could've just...

There had been six winners, six, and as awful as it is she wishes more of them had been her friends. Even though they didn't get to be Victors this time round it would have at least spared them the horror of dying again.

So when she opens the door out of the suite and Dave's right there she's momentarily frozen in place.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Now that Clem is easing back into calm, Dave can feel a little relieved. Facing people after you've made a traumatic decision for them is hard, but he feels like he might have lived down some of the worst parts.

Well. Until she says that, of course. He's not a particularly dramatic guy, he doesn't have a temper and it can be hard to get a rise out of him if you aren't focusing on particular irritations of his. This, however, is an exception.

"You're shitting me." His voice is almost hoarse as he glances over at the basket. Is that fucking champagne? She's like six, what the fuck. "Scuse me." He says curtly, turning to glance around before he fires a punch into the closest wall as if that will sate the little flurry of anger he has going. Incidentally, punching a wall hurts, so it makes him more mad than anything. He shakes his hand out with a wince, fixing an irritated look at the wall as if it's personally responsible for all of this before he turns back to Clementine and tries to appear calm.

"You wanna tell me what the card says?"

"Dave!" Clementine gasps when he goes and punches the wall like that. "You'll hurt yourself!"

She's taken a few steps after him when he goes to do it, her hands raised up in what resembles a calming gesture. Funny, before he came in she was the one furious enough to want to hit something, now Clem's just focused on trying to sooth Dave's nerves. "It... it says I'll get a custom care packet in the next arena. And immunity until the next round."

"That'd be hindsight talking. Again." He says, not without some bitterness. He gives his hand a rub and moves in to poke her on the forehead as she tries to calm him.

"Ease up. I'm a dumbass, not a horse." He gives her the most forced smirk he can manage before he shakes his head and steps toward the package. "They sure love finding ways to fuck with us, huh?" In his chest there's a sudden, tightening of dread that they pulled the stunt because of his sacrifice. He dismisses it as best he can, trying to focus on something inane.

"Fuck yes, mini-muffins. Shit man, you just hauled ass out of a traumatic experience but we have tiny fucking muffins to ease the pain. Justice has been served so frigging duly today." His speech is rife with sarcasm, but he pops one in his mouth anyway without so much as a please. He's good like that. He's starting to rifle through what she has, holding things up and showing her like this isn't her basket. His hands land on what looks like a fancy as hell gift certificate for a two person dining experience and he lifts it up with a coy smile, waggling his brows furiously at her.

"You gonna take your boooooyfrieeeend? You gonna ask Steve Rogerrrrrs?"

"Hey!" she blinks unexpectedly at the poke, reaching up to rub the spot after he's done. Not that it hurt at all, just took her by surprise. Clementine rolls her eyes and snorts humourlessly, "Yeah, they sure do.It better be something good I get in the next one."

Depending on what it is she's already decided she'll try to help Dave, she owes him and he deserves it.

If she had a choice it would be a gun, Clem knows it's happened before but the chances of them being that generous? She's really not sure.

"Well you can have them all, if you want." she replies about the mini-muffins, not that Dave waited for her permission. Clementine's a little amused as he looks through the contents of the baskets, right up until he pulls out the gift certificate and says that.

"What! He's not my boyfriend." and please, there's no blush on her cheeks when she answers him. Dave's face is so ridiculous though she soon biting back laughter, she didn't think moving your eyebrows like that was humanly possible. "Don't be dumb!"

Edited 2014-08-02 14:15 (UTC)

Dave is blissfully unaware of her little choice to help him, but he's not belittling enough to turn it down if it means it gets them both a step closer. He knows damn well that it can be frustrating for people to throw themselves down to be helpful. It's just that, if they made it to the last leg, he wouldn't be all that concerned about self-preservation. Damn those instincts.

"I do want." He says with the air of an all too pleased sigh as he picks up two and wedges them in his mouth at the same time, trying not to choke all because of her reaction. Smiling around muffins is ugly and hard so he works on swallowing them down before he continues.

"Well if he's not your boyfriend you won't be offended when I ask him out." He gives her a sage nod before he waves the certificate a little closer to her. "I seen you making goo-goo eyes at him. Well, uh, you and literally everyone else with a pulse." He pulls at the collar of his shirt with a finger. "Whose your boyfriend then? Bet he's ripped, right?"

"Ew." she says to his struggle with muffin mouth, her grin becoming too much to resist allowing to show. Dave somehow always manages to make her laugh.

Clementine sticks her tongue out at him, "No, you should go ahead." and pushes the certificate back to Dave, the blush still lingering. Even if she did... well Steve was a grown up and she was eleven, and all that kind of thing was stupid anyway. "I don't have one, I'm too young for that stuff."

"That's not a nice thing to say. Rude." But he's all but swallowed those muffins now and he's eying the rest of the basket with his birdy eyes behind his shades. Currently, the conversation is more important than those shiny things, so he snaps back to it.

"Nah, nah. A guy like Steve is real special, I gotta pay my own way with it. If I use a certificate he'll think I'm cheap." And he won't put out is the joke that goes unsaid. "Yeah, well. Not with that attitude, right?" He scoffs, looking over the certificate again with a considering tongue click. "This place looks above and beyond a Chuck E. Cheese, kiddo. I don't know if you want to hand this out like it's willy nilly. I'm Texan trash, I'll embarrass myself if I take my dance partners there." And again, it's being waved at her face. "Go on Lady Clemington."

"You're the one who overstuffed your mouth." she shakes her head in pretend-exasperation.

Clementine snorts with laughter. "Wouldn't want that." she gives the certificate a more considerate look this time, noticing the fancy looping of the script engraved on it and all the... the whatever you call it, the design on the paper. It looks pretty and expensive like Dave says. "I don't know if I'd want to go alone, you might have to come keep me company, Lord Davemont."

"Are you asking me on a date?" Whoops, he's waggling his eyebrows again. It is humanly possible for them to do this, apparently. At least he's clearly joking.

"I mean, it is almost dinner time. We could get all geared up in our finery and snoot all over these fancy people. Rub elbows and whatever rich people do." He shrugs, maybe just a little shy about the proposition. "If you want, anyway."

"Well I'm no Steve but we could have fun." she grins and snickers at the majestic dance of Dave's eyebrows. "I like the way you think."

It would be fun and letting Dave enjoy the spoils of victory the Capitol gave her would ease Clementine's guilt a little. Plus, if they could scandalise some fancy restaurant all the better. "I want to."

"Don't beat yourself up too much, kid." He gives her shoulder a playful shove, just barely smiling. This is the part where he would say she's as good if not better than Steve if he were actually sentimental.

"Right, well. Time for me to swoon." He presses the back of his hand to his forehead and braces against whatever is behind him. And then he stands up like nothing happened. "You gon' get changed, because I have like half a million suits that deserve the opportunity to go somewhere nice."

"It's okay, I have time for improvement, I'm still young." Clementine reaches out and shoves him back, though not as effectively as Dave did to her. Maybe with all this Capitol food she'll get a growth spurt sometime soon.

Though thinking about the way the dog bite scar had turned pink and fresh again when she woke up from dying... Clem doesn't let that thought continue. They have plans now after all.

"I think I can find something to wear, no yellow though."

"Got it. No yellow, no purple. I'll meet you back here when I pick something, aight?"

So he disappears for a while, returning eventually in a suit that looks like it has been fashioned entirely out of decorative rugs. He still has the shades, just for that touch of class. As soon as he steps back into Six, he's going to call out for Clem.

"Oh Lady Clemingtoooon." Such date, very romance. Right?

Edited 2014-08-07 12:04 (UTC)

Clementine roots through her overwhelming wardrobe and finally comes up with a cute but not overly frilly dress in the nice shade of pink that she prefers. Zombie apocalypse or not, some things stuck with you. She brushes and re-ties her hair and then tops off the rest of her elegant appearance by, of course, putting on her hat once more.

"Coming Lord Davemont!" she says, sniggering and then when she comes out of her room actually can't laugh because Dave's suit is just so stunningly perfect that her voice fails her for a moment.

Finally she manages to speak, with a slight wheeze, "I like your suit."

There's a weird little feeling in Dave's head when she shows up. He can't help but think she's cute, really goddamn cute. He'd never had a little sibling of his own, just a big Broling, so feeling fiercely platonic in a familial way about someone is strange for him when they aren't Rose. Still, it makes him all the more eager to make this night absolutely hilarious, by god is he going to erase all those shitty memories.

He dusts off the lapel of his jacket and adjusts it as if he's so snobby he needs to look perfect.

"Mmyes, I thought you might like it." He forces that upper class voice and bends his arm out, offering to loop arms snootily. "Shall we be on our way then, mmyesss?"

"I really, really do. It suits you." Anyone else probably wouldn't be able to make that work, there's actually an argument that Dave doesn't but Clementine decides that it's just so him to wear something like that that it counts. She slips her thin arm around his like she's seen people do in the movies.

"Mmmyes, I think so. Can't be late!" Not that they actually made a reservation, that can count on the first way they're going to make the restaurant suffer.

"Heh, suit." He can't help pointing out that pun when she takes his arm, giving it a gentlemanly pat before he starts to stride toward the elevator and takes it down to the bottom floor.

He pulls the certificate out of his jacket when they start to walk out of the building, giving it an appraising look before glancing at Clem and breaking character.

"We gonna take a cab or walk there? Because my heart says exercise but my legs say sit your ass down."

"I think the advice is supposed to be always listen to your heart but I've done enough walking for a lifetime already, I'm good to take a cab." Plus there's the minor fact she has no idea where this restaurant is or how to get there and getting lost in the city for several hours, while it might work up an appetite, would spoil the fun.

Clementine squints at the passing traffic. "How do you do that?" Guess who never took a cab before.

"I like the way you think." He nods agreeably at her, equally disinterested in becoming lost in the twists and turns of fancy fuckery that is the Capitol. "Uh.." That is the sound of experience, right there. He barely even knows what Capitol cabs look like, but he's seen enough movies to know that standing out on the street and waving an arm usually summons one. A gaudy outfit like his doesn't stand out much in the Capitol, but it gets attention soon enough.

"M'Clementine." He says, moving forward to open the door for her before slipping into the cab after her with about as much grace as a rubber chicken. He directs the driver, keeping the snobby accent in check like he isn't socially awkward, sitting back to give Clem a sneaky grin. "They better have caviar stuffed lobsters or we're wasting our time."

All in all Clementine is very impressed at his skill in acquiring them a carriage suitable for two of their standing. She hops into the taxi first and butt shuffles over to the side to make room for Dave and then is looking outside the window while the address is given, mostly to try and stops herself snickering loudly at the drivers expense but her smile when she looks back at Dave is conspiratorial.

"Lobster without caviar is criminal." she declares before more quietly leaning in to ask him, "What's caviar?"

It's funny how things went from miserable to fun in about twenty minutes. It's a relief more than anything. He hadn't been very close to Clem before, but it feels like they click well and travel in the same unfortunate circles enough to sort of fall into swing with each other. It's comforting, kind of probably what normal friends feel like.

"I'm sure they'll offer only the best for celebrity socialites such as ourselves." He chooses to ignore the way the driver furrows his brows. "Decadence. Pure decadence. Also, fish eggs." He nods leaning forward to pay when the cab finally stops only to be waved off. With a shrug he jumps out his side and sprints around to open the door for Clem. "Quickly now, gotta get those eggs while they're fresh and juicy."

There's much to be said for youth and its adaptability, especially in trying times.

"Are you kidding? Fish eggs?" Clementine says, breaking character momentarily. That sounds so gross! Why would anyone do that? Why would anyone even think to try that in the first place? Then she remembers she's supposed to be in character, "Er, right! We must."

She hops out of the taxi and stares up at the front of the restaurant. It's really fancy looking. "Hope there's not a line."

"Would I lie to you, Cleminem? They put 'em in sushi and stuff, you know. Japanese food. It's all full of fishy goodness. You know tuna makes your brain work better? Fascinating. Never touch the stuff."

He rambles on as they step toward the restaurant, letting out a low whistle before stepping ahead of her to open the door for her like the gentleman he is. "A line for one of the benevolent victors of the most recent Arenas?" He makes sure to raise his voice at the last part of the sentence before he strides ahead, brandishing the certificate like it's a police badge. Of course, doing so ensures good service, with all the Capitol simpering and gushing about their precious friendship and how brave Clementine is and how selfless Dave is and blah. Blah. Blaaah.

However, a table is set aside for them so Dave can wave them off airily and they're given a moment to peruse the menus alone. Finally. Dave pulls up his menu so he can tilt his head down to give her a deadpan stare before tilting his head back up to point at something familiar. "There. Caviar. We should get a bucket of it and rub it on our faces, so good for the skin, you know."

"Do you think they taste like chicken eggs?" before she'd come to the Capitol it had been so long since she'd last gotten to taste eggs.

Clementine walks beside him, listening appreciatively and letting out an occasional helpless giggle at Dave's professional level antics. She tries to look calm and cool, lifting her chin at the simpering and sticking her tongue out at the servers when their backs are turned.

The menu has a lot of very fancy sounding dishes on it and a lot of words she's not sure of but when she looks over at Dave she's grinning, daring. "We have to, it'd be insulting if we didn't."

Dave just scrunches his mouth at the question, both because he doesn't have an answer and because the idea of them tasting like chicken eggs seems strange. Clem, you're weird.

It's hard to roll with it, but when Dave lets himself get lost in the parody it's easier to stop feeling shy about it. He hardly cares what these assholes think about him, so he isn't exactly adhering to any standards.

"Maybe we can do that with our after dinner mints." He suggests, straightening as a waiter approaches. "Mmyes an apple juice for the gentleman and.." Uh. "And for the lady, thank you. We shall wave you over when we are ready to bathe in decadence. Carry on." He waves the waiter off with their drink order and sets his menu down so he can drag a skinny finger down the selections. "I can't seem to find the word for 'burger' or 'pizza'."

Hell hath no fury like an 11 year old

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)