[open] I saw my old friend Gabriel down the perimeter ringing a bell

[samson]

Who| Brock Samson and YOU
What| Drinking and thinking (mostly drinking)
Where| Various bars, he is basically doing a bar crawl
When| RIGHT NOW I mean at night I guess
Warnings/Notes| alcohol...

This whole thing is kind of stupid. Annoying? Yeah, sure, but also stupid. It's more stupid than annoying, truth be told.

The way Brock dealt with most stupid things is generally by punching it in the face. He can't really do that to an idea and a concept though, much to his frustration, so he's just drinking instead. Sure. That's a decent enough compromise. If he can't punch shit, he'll just get loaded until he can better process everything.

Then he will punch shit.

He managed to find the least-dumb looking clothes available to him, ones that aren't decked out in sequins or feathers or holographic whatevers. Apparently plain T-shirts aren't befitting a Tribute, but like fuck he actually cares about that right now. He is anticipating not caring about it ever, to be honest, but one step at a time.

Most of the bars here are, like, stupid clubs with stupid names and stupid drinks with actual pounds of glitter poured into them. He can be found at any bar throughout the Capitol, getting progressively more drunk because that's how he do, but he doesn't spend much time at any of them.

Later in the night, he'll be at the Central Commons in the Tribute Center, and then when that gets too annoying, he goes up to the roof. Naturally, with a bottle of beer because whatever. Who's going to stop him? Seriously.

Though to be honest, maybe that would actually be helpful. He'd get to punch somebody, at least.

Comments

Re: c:

[gardienne]

"Aye, but of course, Sir. Never have I been better." She laughs at her lies and gestures to the barman for another tumbler. But the stares become apparent and hastily, she tugs her hood back up.

"And you? You are well? Do you know of this place already?" She sounds a lot more subdued.

[samson]

"I mean, I just got here, so..."

He gets the gist of it, in other words. The details are still a little beyond him, mostly because he doesn't really... care. What's the point in figuring that kind of stuff out when you are going to be sent to slaughter? It's dumb.

Brock leans in somewhat, lowering his voice. "Do you know somewhere we can talk privately?"

[gardienne]

Eponine looks around quickly and nods. The Speakeasy is well known for not being under surveillence. She dares not speak the name aloud though, just in case. So she winks and knocks back her drink, and tries to sound a bit flirtatious.

"I can show you a good time, Sir. Come! Though - perhaps to follow me, if you don't want to be seen with me."

She'll lead him straight to the Speakeasy though, where her flirtatious manner drops completely, and she pulls her hood down to reveal the messy brand and two long, untidy french braids.

[samson]

Brock is caught between being impressed with her improvisation and being maybe a little skeeved out. She can't be any older than 19, and her behavior leads him to believe that they're always being watched -- so that means somebody somewhere is going to see this and get the wrong idea. Ugh.

But he'll deal with that later.

He follows her with practiced nonchalance, the adrenaline of espionage cutting through the alcohol. This is what he does for a living; he knows how to not be seen.

Once they're inside and she drops the act, he gestures at the brand, frowning. "Alright. Are you in trouble?"

[gardienne]

"From this, Sir?" She brushes her finger over her cheek. "I tried to break my Mama from the prison. They gave us both a brand. Lots of us have one. See - " She pulls up her sleeves and puts her elbows on the table. On each skinny wrist is a heavy manacle, inset with the Capitol insignia.

"This for running away. They killed me for that, too. And for not fighting their bugs. This - " She strokes the one on her right wrist - "As well as the brand. And they killed the man who loved me and made me watch. This is why they give me the needles now - I do not like to sleep any more. There are too many men in the shadows."

She shakes her head. "Sir, this is a good thing to see me. You do not want to take my path. Nobody likes me here."

[samson]

This is a whole lot of crazy to take in all at once, and Brock finds himself gaping at her. Which is probably not a good thing to do to somebody who has a nasty brand on their face, so he forces himself to stop it, screwing up his face instead.

What the hell kind of totalitarian...

"Wait," he says, when something she said finally hits him, "what do you mean, they killed you..."

[gardienne]

"Just so." Eponine nods. "I ran away into the woods and they chased me and found me, and they held me and shot me through the heart and I were dead. But I woke up again, weeks later, where you wake up after the arena. They brought me back because I am so popular. Mindy says that I am the girl they love to hate." She smiles bitterly at that. But her hood comes back up at his stares. It is not so nice to have such a burn.

[samson]

Frowning, Brock shifts his footing and folds his arms, glancing down and to the side as he tries to work this through. Where you wake up after the arena, she said. So the murder orgy isn't as bad as it could be, all things considered, if they have that sort of technology. Cloning? It's certainly possible.

"Well, people love a redemption story, too," he replies absently, only halfway paying attention now.

[gardienne]

"I don't think so... not for me." Eponine shifts awkwardly. Is he fed up of her?
"Sir? Are you well? Have I scared you?"

[samson]

Oh. He looks back up at her again. "What? No, sorry. I, uh... I've only been here for like, a day, so... it's a lot to take in."

[gardienne]

"It's so." Eponine agrees, and signals for a couple of drinks to be brought over. More brandy, the cheap and nasty stuff that they know Eponine prefers.
"You see why I drink? So many of us drink: it is not a bad thing."

[samson]

"Yeah, you're kind of... young... though..."

It's a weak argument. Brock has been drinking since they released him into the wild of the Capitol, and he hasn't experienced anything beyond mild, numbing shock. He has no right to judge, but still. Maybe adhering to some semblance of normalcy here will help him feel better. Mother henning; playing babysitter. It's what he's used to.

[gardienne]

Eponine simply cackles. " I have been here two years and more, Sir, and I were maybe sixteen, seventeen, eighteen then. I don't know exactly. But drinking for ages and ages before. It is a way to keep in the warm when there is no blanket or a roof and it is a way to forget when you don't like what will happen to you. I have a roof and a blanket now, so that leaves a reason to drink."

She nudges the tumbler over to Brock. "It's brandy, cheap and bitter, Sir, but it makes you feel better. Drink it and be merry a while."

[samson]

"Sobriety has its perks, too," he answers, but takes the liquor this time and pounds it back.

[gardienne]

"I don't know none." Eponine grins and downs her brandy. "You'll be okay, Sir. You look big and strong. You will fight one, maybe two and then be done. It is nothing to worry so for."

[samson]

Being aware of everything around you, for one, but he's not sure if it's worth getting into it. Brock's natural inclination is always to protect people, especially kids, but he doesn't know if she's too far gone. It sure sounds like it. And he's just met her, so he doesn't know if he wants to get involved...

So instead, he just shrugs. "But what happens after that?"

[gardienne]

"They give you a party. And then you just have to get Sponsors and things for everybody else. I don't think they do much though. Hardly nobody sends me presents in the arena. Only Eva really, and she's dead now anyway." Eponine shrugs. "I should like to win, but I don't really want to kill nobody. I am bad enough without that added to my crimes."

[samson]

Jesus.

"You don't have anybody looking after you?" Brock says, frowning. "Like, those people in charge of the Districts, uh..."

He means Escorts. Terminology is not his strong point.

[gardienne]

"They destroyed my District because me and Mr. Albert were talking too much. And Jessica. She is the escort, but she is so sad for her family and friends being killed..." Eponine sighs, propping her chin up with her hand.

"They said it was the District's fault, but I don't believe it. Jessica is so upset. I don't know what to do for her. I have taken her communicator already because she kept crying."

[samson]

Maybe he should be more upset that they punished an Escort for a Tribute's transgressions, but he can't really muster up the sympathy for it. They're part of the system and deserve what they get, honestly.

"Wait. They destroyed the whole thing? Aren't districts, like..."

He makes a vague gesture, indicating massive size. How do you even do that...

[gardienne]

Eponine shrugged. "I do not know. It is a long way from here. Two days on that train thing - never have I gone so fast in my life! But we are told, yes. I do not know. I do not know if it is gone, but I think so. They shan't take us back there. They hurt the girls who tried to hide me. They showed me on their screen in the prison. I don't know how they can do it - but if they can make such arenas and have the image of me on a screen always, then I think too they can do this."

[samson]

Brock is starting to get the sense that maybe she isn't the right person to ask about this sort of thing. If a train and video screens are too fantastical to her, then, well... she's going to pretty much just accept whatever weird, out-there story they tell her, isn't she? Jeez.

"I don't know," he says slowly. "If I were you, I wouldn't trust anything they say."

[gardienne]

Eponine shrugs and stands up. "I am too scared to question any more. They have killed everyone I love to shut me up. I will do as they wish." She pulls her hood tighter about her head.

"And for now, they will wish me in the Tower and in my room. I am not supposed to go out at night no more. They send a Peacekeeper for me. But it was nice meeting you, Sir."