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Who| ALL Y'ALL it's a ho down
What| A catch-all reaction log for the plot developments. Saves you from making 5 logs each tbh.
Where| All around the place
When| During and post lock down, 3am~ sunday onward
WARNINGS| Panicking, talk of murder and violence. Singing the songs of panem.

When things like THIS and THIS are going down it's probably a good time to touch base with one another. Face caressing, crying and meaningful stares abound as the Tributes and Staff drag their knuckles hopelessly in an effort to figure out what the fresh hell is going on.

Make your own prompts, feel free to make them closed to specific people.

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Trey is so many levels of unconvinced and it shows very clearly in his expression, as usual. Oliver is probably so used to looks like this, but it's satisfying anyway.

Now that he feels like he's hammered in his point, he drapes his arms over the duvet-shielded moron so he can hug him as best he can. He's always fussy and attentive, but it's still hard to admit how scared he is for Oliver in all of this. He doesn't know what he'd do if something serious happened to him, and the possibility of it is more and more likely as shit gets more real.

It's hard to convey all of this without getting weepy, a partial side effect of being up so late. "You better fuckin' be." He hisses, trying to sound composed.

Oliver lets out a thin whine through the covers, but it's like a dog whining because it's happy that someone's petting it. And--well, well, well. Was that a hint of emotion? Ollie's head pops out of the covers, looking positively gleeful.

"Oh my god, you giant fag, are you crying?"

Oh god damn it, that little voice crack is getting harder to recover from. The tiny little slip is just getting him thinking about how shit this could get for everyone involved, and he's tired and he doesn't know what to do and now Oliver is noticing and it's embarrassing enough to make Trey dig the heels of his palms against his eyes in an attempt to will himself into stopping.

Not today, Satan. A muffled little sob escapes, followed by a sobbed fuck and now he's going to grit his teeth and hiss again because why the fuck is this happening.

"Call me that again and you'll be fucking crying." He snaps, trying to be defiant and it's not really working because his voice is quivering.

Oliver's got a tough-girl reputation in drag just as much as Trey, but even he can't keep from welling up a little when he realizes that yes, his hardass drag mother is sobbing.

"Oh my God, come here," he soothes, throwing his arms around Trey and giving him a place to sob into his shoulder, if he wants. He sniffs, pawing at the tears clouding his vision. Damn it, he's getting all emotional and shit, now.

It's not like Trey really expected Oliver to be unsupportive through this strange and weird show of emotion, but he still feels a little surprised when he breaks down too. It's a little bit of a relief, even if he feels guilty for coming in here and making him cry, at least he isn't alone in feeling like this.

When Oliver throws his arms over him, Trey weaves his arms around Oliver's middle to hold him close. For a few moments, he's happy to just cry it out and let all the shock and sadness of the evening wash over him. It's not long before he sobers up a little, exhaustion becoming more present than any other feeling. Well, apart from extreme affection for the stupid kid he somehow managed to adopt all those years ago. He doesn't want Oliver involved in this at all, but he doesn't know what he'd do without him.

Now that he's calmed down, he'll focus on making sure Oliver is alright, rubbing circles on his back almost idly as he thinks of something to say. "Things are gonna get a lot tougher from here on out." He knows it's obvious, but it needs to be said. "We need to look out for each other, alright? Especially Holly, bitch lives in her own world. Just promise me you'll have some of that situational awareness I love so much."

It's hard not to get a little emotional. When all this scary shit is going on--with the threat of rebellion, of upheaval ever on the horizon, it's easy to break down every once in awhile. Especially when you hover on the line between either side. So Oliver's content for the both of them to cry it out a little, hot tears stinging his eyes as he lets off some steam from the rough night everyone seems to be having.

He sighs. "I know," he murmurs. "We all have each other, we'll...we'll get through this somehow." Ollie pulls back to look at Trey, a little red in the face from crying and from sheepishness.

"I'll try."

"We're drag queens." He shudders out a laugh, forcing a sly grin. "If we can't survive a hot mess, nobody fuckin' will." He moves to give the boy's arm a squeeze before reaching to pull the covers up over them, making them a nice little covered over net for a little subtlety. He can't say much, he doesn't know what they listen in on, but Oliver needs to know what he's planning.

"I have to do something." His voice is low and serious, barely above a whisper even if he's keeping it vague. "You gotta keep your ass safe, alright? Make it my birthday present." Aka Mommy Has Work To Do, Honey.

Oliver snuggles down underneath the cover without much questioning. Mostly because he can feel something heavy coming on and he can pretty much guess what it's all about. So he presses his face into the pillow, mind racing.

"What--fuck. Then let me help you," he pleads quietly. Whatever it is, he doesn't want Trey doing it alone. The idea of his drag mom, one of his best friends in the whole world, doing something dangerous and maybe getting caught, and Oliver not being able to do a thing about it, is terrifying.

"I don't need help." Trey hisses back, trailing off with a faint ssshhh at the end of her sentence. He moves to jab gently at Oliver's tummy, as if they're just having a silly fight and not talking about some heavy shit.

"If I fuck up I gotta keep you right out of it." He whispers, trying to keep a playful lilt despite his expression staying severe. "You aren't my only baby anymore, alright? But you're the one I gotta keep safe." Before Oliver, Trey was definitely more of a lone wolf and before the off-worlders, Trey never had bonds with tributes at all. Now his little family is growing and he knows he needs to step up to make sure the competent bitches are around to protect Oliver when shit starts to go down.

Oliver can feel himself growing frustrated, but he's trying not to let it show. His real parents don't give a shit what he does, as long as he doesn't fuck up their reputation, but his adopted family actually care for him, and that's weird. He needs to remember to be grateful that someone's looking out for him. So he lets out a whine, but begrudgingly agrees.

"Fine," he grumbles, trying not to sound too grateful. "Just, you be careful, please. You're my family, you bitter old queen, and I love you."

Having a family was definitely not in the cards for Trey, not for a long time anyway. People were jerks for reasons he couldn't always put a finger on and becoming a stylist just meant he was watching more and more kids run off to die. If that doesn't make you a little worried for the future, nothing will. So it's kind of convenient, in a way, that a needy older kid with a shitty family should fall into his hands.

He definitely thinks of Oliver as his kid more than his friend, so this is a hard situation to face.

"I know," He retorts with a smirk. "If I can't help fix things for you then there's no point, right? Just trust me, that's all I need."

"Yeah, yeah, you're super capable and shit," Oliver groans, hiding the fact that he's actually super grateful that Trey is looking out for him. Trying to help make a better world for him and everyone else that doesn't suck.

"Just, like, don't go fucking dying or some shit, okay? I can't fuckin' handle a funeral for a drag queen. Those morticians don't know how to paint like we do."

"Of course I fucking am. I'm fucking ancient, if I wasn't good at doing shit I'd be dead." He snorts, pushing closer so he can tighten his arms around Oliver. The tiredness is really hitting him at this point, but talking is comforting.

"I'll haunt your sorry ass if they bury me looking anything less than flawless." He grumbles, rubbing Oliver's back as he does. "Speaking of- We should get some rest or we'll look like tramps. Or more so for you, right? Whatever."

Ollie glady snuggles up, right under Trey's chin. He's a true bottom, after all. The kohai to Trey's dorito-faced senpai. His arms slide around Trey's middle and he lets his eyes fall shut.

"You're right. Gotta get rid of those undereye circles of yours somehow." That's right. He can read a bitch no matter how exhausted. "Night, mama."

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