[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

[atoner]

"There's a cocktail that glows in the dark. I have to hand it to them - they get points for ingenuity," there's a good dosage of dry humor in her tone, which is pretty much the norm for her when she's not on mission. And sometimes, despite that. It's a default Natasha trait, considering she's still trying to figure out who she is without all of her covers to hide behind, that's useful.

The beer gets another swig and a measured judgement. It's not bad, even if it is a little too fancy and flavorless.

[samson]

Brock responds with another derisive sound. Ingenuity. "Is that what they're calling it now," he says with equal dryness, taking a pull from his own beer and following it up with a sort of grimace. Ugh. It's almost not worth it.

He swivels the bar stool slightly to look at her more directly, propping his elbow up on the bar. "So how long you been here?"

She doesn't appear to be a native of this place, or else she wouldn't be commiserating about the piss-poor selection of liquor, after all.

[atoner]

And if she leans in when he turns the bar stool to look at her, well. That's not an accident at all. It's a pretty deliberate thing, a persona that Nat adopts as easily as a second skin at this point. Not that she's sure he even has any information, but it's a bar. Some of this is a little expected anyway.

"Just a few days. Why, do I have that deer-in-the-headlights look that all new arrivals get?"

[samson]

Now that he has a better look at her, Brock allows himself a moment to appreciate her features. Redheads drive him nuts as a general rule, but the whole package isn't a bad one.

He laughs, short and forcefully. "Ha. You tell me," he answers, gesturing at his own face.