ain't no party like a capitol staff party

[reallynow]

Who| [Closed] to capitolites
What| Shit has gone down for months, the tower staff and those involved are having a little get together to see if they can work out a plan of approach for the coming months.
Where| Some ritzy bar/lounge you've never heard of in a private room.
When| Friday night, after the black-out
Warnings/Notes| Heartless Capitolites talking shit.

If you're native to the Capitol, you're pretty damn accustomed to party life. There isn't an occasion in which it is inappropriate to slap the word 'party' at the end and serve drinks. This get-together in particular is rather less like the garish and fashionable events that occur every hour of the day and rather more like the awkward Christmas staff party at an incredibly well paying job. This is of course because it's a very solemn occasion for a social event, the black-out had followed a number of events that most everyone was decidedly unprepared for and the backlash has hardly begun to occur.

They'll be doing a little more than just drinking, but that doesn't mean that there isn't going to be a lot of drinking, gossiping and venting about how hard their lives are in the privacy of a room in a bar booked specifically for this purpose. Tribute sympathisers had better watch their mouths because this has been a long time coming.

Comments

[capitolprivilege]

At any other time, maybe Stephen would have considered the consequences of his words a little more carefully. If it had been any other crime, maybe Stephen would have considered covering for a Tribute, someone who had been acting out in anger, someone whose overall situation was much worse than an Escort's.

But he's nearly through this glass of wine, and they are here to bitch. So Stephen Reagan is going to bitch.

"He assaulted Holly during the blackout," Stephen grits out, absolutely fuming. "He broke her ribs -- and threatened to do worse. I'd bet he would have, if I hadn't found them."

He knocks back the last of his wine.

[reallynow]

Even if Trey is beyond furious about Eridan, he can't help covering his mouth to clumsily conceal a snort of amusement at Cyrus doing impressions. For a jerk, he's pretty damn endearing. Must be a Reagan thing.

He's a little warier about sharing, but when Stephen progresses he decides it probably isn't a problem. It's as interesting for him to see Stephen a little mad, just as endearing as it had been watching Cyrus be a goofball. He raises a hand to give Stephen's shoulder a squeeze, both out of comfort and appreciation. There's the slightest bit of guilt in his expression, Holly had run off on him and instead of going to find her, he'd found Steve Rogers.

"You did a good fucking thing." He says gravely, glancing toward Justine as discreetly as possible. "Pretty sure that freak was a little busy that night."

[currupted]

There's not much closer to Stephen Cyrus can really be at this point, but he manages it, somehow, moving until their shoulders are actually brushing-- with a glance at his brother that cannot decide on what expression it intends to settle. Protectiveness is in it, and disapproval, and concern, among other things; it's like he can't decide whether he intends to comfort Stephen, or just to keep him as much in his sight as possible.

Cyrus lifts a glass of champagne deftly off of a tray as it passes and holds it out to Stephen, to replace the empty one. Passing drinks and talking at the same time is, evidently, an inherited Reagan skill.

"Dr. Florbelle was, I imagine, in hiding. As Capitol citizens were expected to be." He sounds terse-- whether because it's a pointed statement at Stephen, or from anger at the memory, or in defense of Justine, is uncertain. (Not that he'd spent a single moment before he'd learned where Stephen was in hiding, either.)

[capitolprivilege]

"I stood a better chance out there than you did," Stephen mutters into the glass. He lifts the champagne and takes a sip of it, which softens the truth bomb a little. Standing this close to Cyrus might have been awkward another time, but cut Stephen some slack: he'd been very frightened by that blackout, and not for himself. He raises his eyes to look sideways at his brother, frowning.

"Look, Cyrus, I knew you'd be looking for me, and I knew I had a better relationship with the Tributes than you did. I had to find you. With Peacekeepers spread that thin, you'd be safer with me than with anyone else, short of one of the Tributes themselves."