thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| Don and OPEN
What| Don is preparing for his 10th Arena and worrying about the arrested Tributes
Where| Throughout the Tribute Tower, particularly the roof, the D9 suite and the Training Center
When| The last three nights before the Arena
Warnings| None at the moment, possible Arena talk!

Brewing coffee had never taken such an eternity.

The closer the Arena date came, the slower the time seemed to go for Don. No sign of the jailbreakers being released, only continued pedantic announcements of how the investigation of Penny's murder was gone. Half the Tower was practically missing now. And he could only keep wondering if he did the right thing in ultimately not getting involved in the jailbreak.

Or maybe he did the right thing. The fact that no one had returned is a sign it went bad. And he at least was able to finish the Shakespeare, though much good that did. He'd only been able to get a general approximate location of a pod near the Capitol Art Museum with the equipment Lonestar had given him, but not much else. That, and with the arrests surrounding Penny's death...and the very subtle shift of how he was treated on the streets, even though he was known to not be involved with the jailbreak or murder...

...was this coffee ever going to finish? Shell, it had been ten Arenas now, and he couldn't remember feeling more terrified, even after Ariadne's death. Things were most definitely changing, and he knew the pressure was only going to get worse. He cracked once; how now was he going to stop from cracking again?

Most of the last nights before the Arena would be spent training, drinking his own brewed coffee, and pacing. Lots of late night pacing, throughout the Tower, and on the roof, just drinking coffee. And worrying.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Carefully." Don let out a breath. "To not go insane again."

"I can imagine. That's what I'm afr--'again'?" What does again mean?

"...Well," Don frowned. "This place can do things to you."

He's seen avoxes, so he knows that 'do things to you' can be very, very literal here. But that seems almost tame compared to the mental affect. "That's what I'm afraid of. I can't decide if it's good or bad that I know people here. I mean, people from my home."

"...Oh." At this, Don frowned. Of all things he could be lucky about, it was that they hadn't brought anyone he cared for to Panem from his world. "I'm sorry about that. Who...if you're all right with answering, who did they bring?"

Edited 2014-09-04 17:31 (UTC)

Dennett would have to agree. Getting slapped by Clara when he'd met her here? He'd deserved that, really. But getting killed by her, or having to kill her? Oh, no. He couldn't. He couldn't even think about it.

"One of my patients. And his, well, his wife."

"Oh...geez..." That sounded pretty bad. And worse, he was a doctor, on top of it? "I'm really sorry to hear that..."

What is your life when you're getting sympathy from a mutated turtle? How, exactly, low on the totem pole of life does that happen? Apparently this low.

"No, no, it's fine. Well, it's better for me than them. Husband and wife. Here." He shakes his head. He can't imagine....

Low, maybe, but not quite as low as getting sympathy from, say, Harley.

"Husband and wife? Who are they?"

He has yet to have the pleasure of meeting her.

"Alex Murphy--the large, uh, silver and black cyborg--and his wife, Clara." Who is actually, in his mind, scarier. He's not keen on crossing her again, that's for sure.

Clara...that name was familiar. Alex's, not so much.

"...Shell. So you're all from Detroit?"

"Yes. Well, they're from Detroit. I work there. That's where my research wing is located." And all his work, healing others, making limbs for amputees...it was probably a bad thought to fret how that was going.

"And..." Another pause, as he brought his hand to his chin in thought. "...Is Alex your patient? And, if so..."

He probably didn't need to finish that with 'you're obviously not a regular doctor, are you', since it was all but implied.

"Yes. He's the most extensive cybernetic replacement I've done." Even that's an understatement. He is rather proud of it, though. He gave Alex a chance at life, movement, purpose, compared to what was left of him after the explosion.

Oh.

"...So you're a biocyberneticist?"

"Yes. I have a specialization in neurosurgery. Obviously. I mean, for the wetware connections." Can't get the robot parts to work unless they talk to the brain, after all. "You know others?" Color him ~~nerdy~~ interested.

"...Well," Don admitted. "Its something I've been interested in. I've also seen it in action, though...not perfected."

~~Poor Baxter. Even two years and close to ten Arenas later.~~

Edited 2014-09-09 02:30 (UTC)

"Well I wouldn't call Alex perfected." ...pretty damn close, though. A few billion dollars could get pretty far. "But maybe I could introduce you two." Sure, mutant turtle, cyborg--Dennett would be the odd man out just by being normal.

"That..." He couldn't help but break into a grin at that. "That would be awesome, honestly!"

And the first time in a long time that technology in this place had not instilled any kind of fear in him. Or wasn't barred from him.

This is probably the best moment he's had since he's arrived here. Someone a) not trying to kill him, b) not trying to tell him to shut up and c) actually interested in his work. "I'll see what I can arrange. I have to say, he'll probably be just as...curious about you."

Oooooh. He was going to get to see a cyborg!

"I tend to have that effect on people."

"I...I am sorry about that. Earlier. The hallucination thing." It's just...this place. Not much would surprise him.

"It's all right," Don shook his head. "I've had people scream and faint or run away from me. So, its fine."

Now, he really feels bad. "It must be...hard here. I mean, feeling alone like that." People running in fear is not a thing Dennett's ever witnessed personally. But it would not be fun. "At least you stand out in a crowd?" Ah, the old Norton humor.

"It is."

Don was willing to admit it, though in truth, he could never feel safe in truly quantifying just what he meant by that. There were levels of loneliness he felt - the fact he was alone in terms of family. Or the fact that he had lost so many people he'd cared for here in Panem. Or the fact that he'd been here so long that death was more of a numbing thing for himself, than horrifying, setting him and other Tributes apart from nearly everyone else in the world. Or the fact that him dying in the Arena was what kept him dying for real, and keeping that to himself was lonely.

"And I do. Though, I'm still seen as a curiosity here."

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