[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

[samson]

"Makes sense."

The most obvious solution would be for somebody to spy on... whoever it is that makes the arenas and disseminate the information, but he has a feeling that's probably one of the most heavily-guarded secrets in this whole fucked-up place.

"I guess just planning a winner among ourselves ahead of time is out of the question."

[aintyourdad]

"Too many loose cannons," Joel says with a shrug. "I don't think there's more'n five or so from any one world, and while I think most of us don't care to kill unless we have to, there's just enough that like it that it wouldn't work."

[samson]

"Smart thing to do is figure out who those people are and take 'em out first," he says, shrugging too, and now sort of wishes he hadn't thrown that beer at the invisible wall.

Brock jerks his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go back down to the bar. You up for it?"

[aintyourdad]

"You wanna try that, by all means," Joel says dismissively. It's not his job to wrangle over a hundred tributes, and he doesn't plan to make it his job.

He has to consider the offer of the bar for a moment. Does he want to be in a more public place? Well, it shouldn't be too crowded at this time. "Sure, why not," he mutters, following the other man.

[samson]

Brock probably will try that. He is almost compulsively proactive, and when you combine that with potential espionage, it's like dangling Snausages in front of a dog's face.

But Snausages can wait. He is too concerned with liquor at the moment; this place is still complete and total bullshit, and his disdain has yet to be overridden by his compulsive need to Get Shit Done.

"What's your name, anyway?" he says over his shoulder as they start back down. "I'm Brock."

[aintyourdad]

"Joel," he responds, shoving his hands in his pockets as he follows. "I don't recommend spending too much time out in the city, either, unless you like bein' stared at by complete strangers all the time."

[samson]

Brock snorts a little. "I'm kind of used to it," he says, but he doesn't elaborate. He is edging on seven feet tall and has an extremely stupid haircut; he gets a lot of attention on the regular. He's also used to making himself unseen, how to look inconspicuous, but it might be more difficult here, where he's an effective celebrity.

"Kinda makes you feel for people who are just famous for being famous, right. Didn't even have to put out a sex tape."

[aintyourdad]

"It just means I can't even go to a damn coffee shop without someone botherin' me," Joel mutters. That's the least of his worries, really, but it only adds to the constant feeling of being watched. It's not just the government, it's everyone, for all kinds of reasons, and for a man who isn't used to that it's pretty crazy-making.

[samson]

"You ever try a, uh, disguise..."

He says it casually, but Brock is actually really, really into disguises. A convincing cover is 20% of the job, Hunter told him a long time ago. It's stuck with him.

"Then again, I guess that's just encouraging 'em."

[aintyourdad]

"A disguise?" Frankly, the thought had never crossed his mind. The idea of actually attempting to disguise his appearance in some way is just alien to him. In his world, what you look like doesn't matter to anyone. What matters is whether you're a threat.

You're either visible or invisible, and that's the logic Joel has been applying to the Capitol - unworkable as it is with the constant surveillance.

"I'm not gonna wear all that glittery shit just to get a coffee," he scoffs.

[samson]

"Well, it's easier if you're a girl," he concedes, though he means in general and not just... glitter... "Like wigs and stuff. Big scarves, sunglasses. That kind of thing. They're better at looking inconspicuous."

Sometimes when men wear costumes, it just makes them stand out more. It's a thin line to walk.

"What District you in? Maybe if your stylist isn't an asshole, they can hook you up with something."

He's met Jolie, who seems... n...ice? Maybe? He doesn't know. But Jolie seems like the kind of person who would find disguises an amusing distraction, anyway.

[aintyourdad]

"Eight, and trust me, Jolie doesn't know the meaning of subtle," Joel says with a snort. His head-butting with Jolie is kind of legend not just in his district but more broadly. "Puts me in leather every chance he gets."

[samson]

"Ha! No kidding. I guess we're roomies."

It could be worse. At least Joel doesn't seem like he'd flip out about something stupid.

[aintyourdad]

Roomies. Is this guy twelve? Joel doesn't say anything, though, just shrugs. "Guess so."

[samson]

It was a joke... but judging by that response, apparently in addition to being level-headed, Joel doesn't have much in the way of a sense of humor. Brock makes a mental note to keep that in mind as they head down to the Commons.