thecapitol | [OPEN] Don't switch the blade on the guy in shades, oh no....

Who| Mister Scratch and YOU.
What| There's a new guy in town. He's going SHOPPING.
Where| Every clothing and accessory shop in the Capitol.
When| After the Arena.
Warnings| Language, crude talk, and a creepy serial killer.

It's always a pretty sudden thing, isn't it? When out of nowhere, there's a new body in the district, a new face trying to adjust to the cruel reality that they have been thrown into. Some people hide. Cry. Try to pretend that none of it is going to happen to them, not really.

...And then there's this asshole.

A tall, dark figure is roaming through town, through every single shop - trying on and buying every pair of sunglasses that he likes (and some he doesn't), leaving a bunch of very confused shop clerks in his wake. A pair of glasses for every occasion, every outfit - he just rolls into store after store, chipper as can be, pulling glasses on and then unceremoniously throwing them into piles.

Just as he's trying on a pair, he spots you - and he approaches, a bounce in his step, a grin on his face. He doesn't care what you look like, who you are, what you were trying to do - no matter what, he addresses you, pointing at himself.

"What do you think of these? Good? Bad? I mean, none of these can look BAD on me, but eh, some are more shit than others."

He's not gonna leave you alone until you answer him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Oh, there's always a reason to look for clothes, isn't there? Mindy herself was here, looking to add some color to her wardrobe. This was being done at Oceana's insistence (exact words were "do it or I'll fucking cut you") so Mindy was here, pretending to be grumbling about this. In reality, she could use the distraction: Riley was gone, and was Chibi Usa (thankfully), Susannah and Don, a definite hit to her psyche. So right now, happy times where she could get them was appreciated.

Apparently, distractions also worked.

"Try ones with a blue tint, they always look cool," Mindy said, being impartial. Hey, she'd read comics and seen enough "cool guys" in movies to form an opinion there.

"Think I've already got some of those - but I think they've got more here, hang on-"

As suddenly as he had approached, Scratch bolts back over to the display of glasses, throwing the ones he had had on into his 'maybe' pile on the floor and pulling on a pair with a blue tint. With those on, he runs back to Mindy, skidding a little on his dress shoes with his sudden stop.

"How's that? Better?"

He looks so very hopeful.

"Yeah, that definitely looks better."

Mindy had nothing to do, and losing herself in something like this she was fine with. Hell, why wasn't she looking for a proper pair of shades herself? It would at least past the time.

"Not as much sun these days. You going for style over function?

Turning away from her for the moment, he looks in a mirror, inspecting his own reflection. Yeah, these aren't bad. They go in the 'keep' pile for sure.

"I'm not really a fan of light in general. You know how it is - you have a little too much to drink, and the next day, everything is like knives in your eyeballs." A chuckle. He turns back around, shrugging a little bit.

"Might not be a lot of sun to you, but I've been a night person for way too long to be used to this shit."

"Don't I know it," Mindy said, who was far more used to doing her real jobs at night, not in daylight. "Night life here is usually reserved for drinking, stupid ass parties or going to the arcade for me. The day is for training and generally keeping myself busy."

Oh, and avoiding the looks of assholes who thought she was a traitor. Can't forget that.

"It's enough to piss away your schedule, really."

Heh. Okay. He could get to like this kid.

"Yeah, it's a tough life. So much booze, not enough time."

Pulling off his glasses, he sticks out a hand, smiling a jovial (if weird) smile. "Name's Alan. New around here. Killing time until the killing starts. Who are you?"

"There's probably not enough booze, but that's just my opinion."

And there were also not enough people leaving you the hell alone when imbuing said booze.

A handhsake? Huh. "Mindy Macready," she said, shaking his hand with a decent grip. "Mentor of District 9."

"It's a good opinion."

He shakes the hand firmly right back. "Well, nice meeting you, Mindy. You don't seem like such a pain in the ass. Mentor - that means you won, right? That's fucking awesome."

She thought so too. These bastards were supposedly trying to make sure they were "happy," why not let them spoil themselves every so often?

A good handshake at least: Mindy couldn't stand weak ass handshakes. "Glad to hear it, and yeah: had to go through some shit to get mentorship. Don't know how many other kids currently have that going for them right now."

Supposedly she was also the youngest.

Handshake dispensed with, he pushed his hands into his pockets, body language relaxed and casual - even friendly.

"Sweet deal. You must be a badass. What's your weapon of choice?"

Talking about killing tended to turn Scratch into something resembling a gleeful child - his enthusiasm and interest for the topic definitely trumped any other.

That was bullshit: she knew barely any kid was a mentor. If there was any that should have been one now, it was Sandy or Ellie. Of course, everything was decided by persistence and a little bit of luck.

"I LIKE my butterfly knife," Mindy said, "but I'll settle for a decent pair of guns. I favor a USP compact or a Sig P232 if I had the choice. Found it fits my hands perfect."

"Butterfly knife? Girl after my own heart," 'Alan' sighs, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. "I'm not a fan of guns. They're not...personal enough, y'know? Give me a good knife any day. Something with a nice, sturdy handle for a little extra handling."

That might have been a little alarming to some people: for Mindy, it was going to be something to file away, someone who obviously knew the craft of killing, or at least using a knife. Still, she had to assume PEOPLE, or he'd be falling over himself to reinstate he was not some kind of butcher.

"What can I say? I can whip it around pretty bad when I need to. In my kind of work though, the people that wanna kill you aren't going to ask polite with a knife: you have to be good at shooting. Sure makes it easier to take on a shitload of guys, that's for sure."

"Easier, maybe, but a lot less fun."

He considers what she was saying for a beat, then a brow goes upward. "Your kind of work? The hell do you do for a living back home?"

Fun huh? That sure said a hell of a lot about him. He was someone to watch in the Arena, she bet. It didn't help that, in theory, she did sort of agree with him. She rather DID like taking care of a bastard with her own two hands up close, even if a gun helped prevent the guy who used his height and weight to his advantage.

Granted, there was always ways to combat that.

"I take care of people who have cops in their pockets," Mindy said. "Not a business that pays, but one that needs to be done."

Ok, that was a lie it TOTALLY paid.

[OPEN] Don't switch the blade on the guy in shades, oh no....

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