[OPEN] Everybody get some cherry candy yum-yum

[fuckingcool]

Who| Oceana and all y'all
What| it's between arenas, and everyone's favorite trash mermaid is a bit restless.
Where| the Tribute Center during the day, and a swanky bar in the Capitol in the evening.
When| 7/31
Warnings/Notes| Language??

one. daytime

There are definitely other things Oceana needs to be working on right now. After all, the next Arena is never far out of sight, and her tributes will need things to wear. But if she has to spend another minute holed up in her workshop she's pretty sure she's going to flip her lid. So she decides to strut her stuff around the tower instead, making the rounds--peeking in on some friends and making some social calls dressed in a black catsuit, giant rhinestone belt, patent leather pumps and a positively huge blonde wig that doesn't appear to have been brushed, ever.

She also finds herself making a kitchen stop, because a bitch gets hungry and nothing fills her up better than a cup o' noodles and the hottest hot sauce she can find. Don't interrupt her when she's trying to eat, though. She can and will cut a bitch.

two. out on the town

By evening, Oceana's desire to socialize has turned into a desire to socialize while imbibing astonishing amounts of alcohol, so she changes into a sequined minidress and heads out to find somewhere dark and swanky with loud music where she can do so.

"Vodka, straight, in a martini glass," she orders in a bored tone. "Ooh, and could you put like, six olives on there?" The queen smiles, teeth frames by a lush red pout. "A girl's gotta eat, right?" Apparently the bartender isn't into six-foot tall men in dresses and heels, so she turns to the person next to her.

"Wow, no sense of humor at all. Screw that, I'm fucking hilarious."

Comments

in the kitchen

[plushaeusrumpified]

Interrupt he will, because when Bro strides into the kitchen and smells the noodles, his eyes flick towards the person eating them and zero in on the flavor. "Oh hell no." He'd been planning on eating those and he's pretty sure that's the last of that particular flavor. His eyes move from the cup to the person eating the cup. "Oh hell yes." Wait, did that come out out loud? It sure did. "I mean- bitch, I was gonna eat that."

He folds his arms over his chest, looking put out.

[fuckingcool]

Oceana looks up, noodles already hanging out of her mouth, and all she can do for a moment is raise her (perfectly done) eyebrows as high as they can go. Once she's slurped up her mouthful, chewed and swallowed, she slams the cup down on the counter, already half-empty.

"Back off," she shoots back, looking the tribute up and down with feigned disinterest. "I'm fucking hungry, alright?"

[plushaeusrumpified]

The problem with that is Bro doesn't take orders very well, especially from people younger than him. Somebody like Shepard? Yeah, he might listen. Somebody like Oceana? Yeah, nope, not gonna happen. He may not be as fast as he usually is, but he still is pretty fast and Oceana's mistake was setting the cup down.

Because fast as lightning, he's darting his hand out to grab the cup. "If I don't, what're you gonna do about it?"

Day time. 8D

[bunnybrat]

Chibi Usa has been wandering around the tower for a few hours looking kind of unexcited about the place. She's been trying to see if anyone she knows is here and so far being very unlucky when it came to results.

While she's looking around the almost scarily unfamiliar tribute center she accidentally bumps into Oceana because she wasn't paying attention.

"That was my fault, sorry."

She looks up at her and her mass of hair and just blinks at it all, it had be a while since she had seen hair that big.

[fuckingcool]

She's just minding her own business when suddenly someone is colliding with her knees. "Hey, watch where you're going, you fat b--oh." The towering queen has to stop herself from verbally ripping into a little kid, and she gains her balance after a moment.

"Sorry, kid." Oceana cocks her head. Damn, that is some pink-ass hair. "Is that a lace-front, or is your stylist tryna jack my swag?"

[bunnybrat]

Fat? ChibiUsa looked down at herself, she didn't think she looked that bad, though she didn't get long to linger on that when her hair is brought up.

"Lace front? I... What?"

Why are you trying to confuse a 7 year old? Who does that?

two

[reallynow]

Incidentally, the only thing hotter than one six foot man in a dress is a six foot man in a dress and the five foot eight man in a dress alongside her. Jolie lets out a snigger into her glass and rolls her eyes at both the bartender and Oceana.

"Guess you won't be spending those tips on hookers, right buddy?" She calls out after him, crinkling her nose at the dirty look he gives her before moving to drape over Oceana's shoulder adoringly. "Hope you like the ways spit tastes." He chuckles, giving her a sly smile.

[fuckingcool]

Oceana just laughs at Jolie's comment, loud and brash as the rest of her is. The two of them make quite a duo; Jolie with her polished updo and Oceana with her giant, ratty wig, draped over the bar like they fucking own it. Actually...

"You know what, let him spit in my drink. I'm pretty sure my dad owns this bar anyway." That last part is yelled at the bartender's retreating back. She busies herself with her drink, giving it a thorough visual inspection and finding it thankfully loogie-free. O pops an olive in her mouth.

"Why are the hot ones always assholes?" She laments, leaning her head against Jolie's.

[reallynow]

Jolie's hands are flitting down to fiddle with the ends of Oceana's wig as if sensing what they look like together. Shameful, this doesn't look like human hair at all. Doesn't feel like it either, but she refrains from nagging in order to let out a loud laugh at the way Oceana commands the situation.

"That's my girl." She says with a sincere amount of warmth in her voice, even if the way she eats olives is getting her a nose crinkle for her trouble.

"Hot ones aren't assholes, assholes are assholes." She says blandly. "Ain't always the case, that's for sure."

Day tiiiime

[polyturtle]

Well. It wasn't often that Don was interrupted by someone bursting into the District 9 suite, without warning, busting down the door - and not be a Peacekeeper. He was instantly up on his feet from the table, journal in hand, only to find himself staring at an enormous frazzled blond wig.

"...Hi?"

That scare couldn't have been good for his heart, or so he thought.

[fuckingcool]

Oceana shuts the door to her workshop behind her and blinks. Is that really--wow.

"And now I've seen everything, damn." She waves a hand. "Look, if you're gonna beg me not to put you in anything glittery, you can stop right there."

district 9

[shenunigans]

It's not that Dave isn't a fashionable guy. Somewhat. He likes to be dressed up, he isn't even shy about ridiculous colours and fabrics. It's just that in his down time, he doesn't really see the point in being in anything else but his weirdly printed pajama pants and a plain t-shirt. Of course, this is partly because he's rarely up before noon, but only god can judge him and if he's here, god don't give no fucks.

He's a little bleary eyed as he wanders out into the open areas of the suite, so he unhooks his shades from the collar of his shirt and pops them on in time to watch Oceana exit from her workshop. He hasn't had many encounters with her, or the other stylist that just left for that matter, but the gossip is interesting.

"Morning sunshine." He raises a lazy hand at her.

[fuckingcool]

Oceana pauses, squinting at the Tribute who drew to cross her path looking ratty as hell. She waves back reluctantly. "Hey. What is it with you white boys and your sunglasses?" It's like a plague or something.

"Also, I don't know if you know this? But that whole pajama-pants-as-an-outfit trend was over like ten years ago." And it's really starting to harsh her vibe.

[hit_girl_mindy]

Planning. There was planning and scheming going on in her head right now, and she'd be damned if she didn't have a fire under her right now. At this moment she was running through her usual thoughts: how quickly she could still start mapping out things, making sure she still ran through the whole training sessions (not that she'd stop that anytime soon). In short, she was a girl with a plan, enough so that she'd be distracted enough until she saw someone...she was sure she'd never seen before.

"Uh," she said, giving the girl a hard look. "You late for a Halloween party? What's with the wig?"

Right. Mindy wasn't exactly fooled. Obviously someone from the Capitol.

[fuckingcool]

Instantly, Oceana is on the defensive, tapping on stiletto heel and crossing her arms to look the little girl over.

"Are you really gonna come for me right now, little miss pigtails?" She scoffs at the very idea, sucking her teeth noisily. "That's real cute, but I don't have time for games, honey. I'm a drag queen, not a party clown, and I have tributes to dress."

The bar

[revvinguptheharley]

"Well I thought it was funny!" A voice chirped from a nearby stool.

Harley Quinn, District Nine mentor and general pain in the neck, but she's always embraced Capitol fashion. The good and bad. A perfect example tonight being a cranberry red dress with dangling black gems sparkling as they shiver and quiver with every motion.

Raising a glass of something that looked suspiciously like red white and blue tooth paste she grinned brightly.

"Some people just don't appreciate genius."

[fuckingcool]

"Thank you!" God. Finally, someone who understands Oceana's innate ability to be the funniest bitch on the block. Or, wait, no, that's Jolie. But she's a close second, okay? Oceana looks over the woman with a faint glimmer of recognition.

"Oh, you're that mentor chick, right? Hallie-something?" Names? Names are hard. Oceana usually only remembers the names of dudes she's banged and occasionally her tributes.

training center derp

[trollroyalty]

Kristoff had intended to explore himself, figure out where the hell he was and what the hell was going on. Sure the white armored knights had given an explanation but a lot hadn't made sense. A death arena? A place called Panem? He hasn't had a formal education sure, but he thinks he would have heard about a place like this, especially if they're kidnapping people.

So yeah. The intent had been there. The only problem was when he went to leave the suites of district 2 to find. Some weird box that zoomed up and dropped down and excuse him this is brand new and slightly terrifying technology. Sven, we're not in Arendelle anymore.

[fuckingcool]

Normally, an important person like Oceana wouldn't care about yet another lost-looking newcomer stumbling around the training center and trying to figure out the elevators. But when that newcomer is a hunky-looking blonde with the most adorably clueless look on his face, well, she can't help but take notice. She leans against the elevator wall, casually pressing the "close doors" button.

"Hi there, vato. You lost, baby?"

idk commons area somewhere

[aintyourdad]

It's probably a good thing, at least, that Jolie's little posse are so, well. Easy to spot from a distance. It means that usually - usually - Joel can steer clear of them. He can put up with Trey most of the time, but sometimes they just get overwhelming.

Today, though, he's lost in thought, and doesn't spot Oceana until it's a little too late to retrace his steps. Great.

"Howdy," he murmurs, hoping she'll just pass him by today.

[fuckingcool]

Noot noot, Hot Dad Express is passing her by, and you really can't expect Oceana to pass that up, can you? She spots Joel passing through and she's by his side almost immediately.

"Hey, papi, where you goin' so fast? You're really not even gonna stop and talk to a bitch?"

[vissernone]

Eva's not particularly fond of the assistant Stylist, whose hiring she wasn't altogether quietly opposed to. It's not that she has anything against the boy (and it's always 'the boy', because no matter how much the kid pads his chest Eva won't see him any other way), it's that his sense of style and hers are, so to speak, at odds. She sees Oceana as completely misguided in her decorative choices, as dangerously underdeveloped for the difficult task of marketing a District.

She shouldn't, she thinks, have been surprised that the powers that be insisted on the novelty of a rough-around-the-edges drag queen over Eva's concerns about her District's survival. That doesn't mean she isn't resentful.

She's making the effort to get back into Mentoring. The difficulty isn't in showing up and performing her duties, but in being asked to give a damn about what seems like an endless line-up of chum to throw to the sharks. It was easier, she thinks - easier and more painful - when the Tributes were from her own hometown. There was a common ground between her and the teenagers they fed into the machines before the Neverending Quell. She doesn't know how to connect to all these deathless brats who come in and expect to rail against a system they don't understand.

Still, the best way to get to know them is to see them as they live, and as such she's spending time in the District Suite, pouring herself wine and arranging some cheese on a plate in the kitchen. She hears Oceana from all the way down the hallway - those horrible pumps clacking against the hardwood - and she sighs before she looks up.

"You know, if you spent half as much time improving your craft as you did padding your hindquarters, you might actually learn how to properly hem a dress."

[fuckingcool]

Oceana has always been aware of Ms. Salazar's open dislike for her, but unfortunately she's got a mad case of I Don't Give a Fuck, and if she flaunts her foam-rubber curves just a little bit more when the mentor is around, well, who can blame her? It's well worth it to see the woman's hackles go up whenever Oceana is in the vicinity.

She strides into the kitchen serenely, sailing past Eva and going straight for the fridge. "Yeah, and maybe if you took some makeup tips from me you wouldn't look like such a dour cunt all the time." She's been working on her vocabulary. She pulls a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries out of the fridge and puts one in her mouth, right between those plush painted-on lips.

"Besides, I'd like to see your bougie ass do my job."

Daytime around D9

[aboveangrybees]

Steve hasn't had too much interaction with the Distict stylist outside of getting ready for arenas and the one time she helped him clean up for his date. There just hasn't been much chance for their paths to cross and he hasn't had a reason to seek out her company. Honestly, he's almost surprised to see her.

Her look is quite intense - which suits her personality - but Steve doesn't show he thinks it, just gives her a friendly look and a nod when she comes near.

"How are you, Miss Oceana?" Ever the polite gentleman.

[fuckingcool]

It's always nice to see Steve around. He's one of the few people who matches her height in heels, after all, though her hair gives her a few inches over him most of the time. She holds out a hand elegantly toward him.

"Fucking divine, Steve." She waggles her perfectly-drawn eyebrows. "How was your date, by the way? That dirty bitch Jolie never did tell me how it went down."