He's been happy this past week. Which is surprising given how long it used to take to recover after arenas. This one especially didn't sit well with him, having killed Jet and then been killed by a diminutive torturer. Instead of focusing on that, or perhaps to avoid it, he's been honed in on the impending wedding. Flowers, guests, music, he's made himself so busy that he hardly has time to think of anything else before he tumbles into bed at night.
Which is why it's inevitable that it all catch up to him eventually. It's not all at once, just little things. Seeing Pruna across the lobby and having to fight down a wave of emotions so mixed they're almost unidentifiable. Mentions on television of the tributes to not return from the arena, Cecil and Fili and so many more. Even talking with Venus recently had taken a turn for the morose. He supposes he felt better after airing some of his dirty laundry, but needing to at all is a weight in and of itself. All these things combined are what brings Albert to the roof in an effort to just breathe for a moment.
He leans against the railing, back to it with the near-silent hum of the force field barely audible to the corners of his hearing. Normally he can't hear the fields at all, but the one on top of the tower he guesses they wanted to make more obvious, a deterrent if anyone wished to jump. Albert drops his spent cigarette to the small collection of butts at his feet and immediately lights another one, glancing up as the tall blonde woman steps out onto the roof among the topiaries. She's familiar somehow, but he can't put his finger on why. Maybe it's just the general aura of 'new tribute'.
"Do you smoke?" He normally doesn't approach strangers out of the blue, but he's been too much in his own head already today and needs an out.
Another rooftop visitor
Which is why it's inevitable that it all catch up to him eventually. It's not all at once, just little things. Seeing Pruna across the lobby and having to fight down a wave of emotions so mixed they're almost unidentifiable. Mentions on television of the tributes to not return from the arena, Cecil and Fili and so many more. Even talking with Venus recently had taken a turn for the morose. He supposes he felt better after airing some of his dirty laundry, but needing to at all is a weight in and of itself. All these things combined are what brings Albert to the roof in an effort to just breathe for a moment.
He leans against the railing, back to it with the near-silent hum of the force field barely audible to the corners of his hearing. Normally he can't hear the fields at all, but the one on top of the tower he guesses they wanted to make more obvious, a deterrent if anyone wished to jump. Albert drops his spent cigarette to the small collection of butts at his feet and immediately lights another one, glancing up as the tall blonde woman steps out onto the roof among the topiaries. She's familiar somehow, but he can't put his finger on why. Maybe it's just the general aura of 'new tribute'.
"Do you smoke?" He normally doesn't approach strangers out of the blue, but he's been too much in his own head already today and needs an out.