things that are perhaps not entirely-- oh, k...[OPEN] [BACKDATED]

[kontingency]

Who| K and you.
What| K is exploring the Capitol, out of curiousity about what it's like - he's fascinated. And, perhaps, not looking where he's going.
Where| Pretty much everywhere; he's just spending his day walking around and looking at everything.
When| Backdated to K's return to the Capitol after his death. (February 12th)
Warnings/Notes| Unnaturally calm K? Also spoilers, of course. Also talk about death. And talk about neglect?

K had died before. It wasn't a new experience to him to be snuffed out - as much as it was, perhaps, expected. That freezing chill of death was something he'd experienced more then once, and it hadn't hurt as much as the first time.

This, perhaps, his mind theorized quietly, was because he didn't feel wounded on the inside as much as out, this time. He pushed the thought away slightly violently, in his mind - it was an uncomfortable thought. His contemplation hadn't shown on his calm face, and nor had his rejection - but it still got, perhaps, a sad swallow out of him.

He'd thought he'd stopped expecting things from his father. Perhaps he should have done his best to live up to that.

In any case, K had taken to merely dressing up in warm clothing - a dark blue sweater with no decor and jeans that were in no way thin enough to let him get cold. He could still feel the mild chill of dying there, on that glacier, and it disrupted his train of thought if he didn't properly attend to feeling warm. Regardless of that, however, he had decided to go out from the large rooms of the Tribute Suites that reminded him vaguely of home, and take his day and use it to explore everything in the Capitol. The world for him had always been closed off, always a metallic sheen of walls, somewhat low ceilings, and the glow of artificial lighting. Today was a day to get that curiosity out of his system - his curiosity with the snow had cost him, during the Arena.

He didn't particularly like that death chill. Or the idea of dying at all.

K could be found anywhere, his calm - perpetually, perhaps creepily so - face continuously surveying his surroundings as he looked about. He was recognizable as that one tribute who had chosen to spend some time toying with snow rather then looking for shelter and food - and died for it. And, given the calm fascination he seems to be taking with the city, it's not quite different here.

Although, K was not about to let himself be caught unprepared again simply because he was curious.

Comments

you would be too if you were a ninety-pound torturebunny

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Oddly, Howard's mind flashes back to watching Oscar the Grouch when he was a kid. Sesame Street. It was a long time ago.

He huddles down in the corner of the trash can, curls his legs up to his chest and swallows the piece of hamburger patty he had in his mouth. He could come up and say hi, although where would that lead? 'Please don't hurt me, I'm just a Tribute in a dumpster'?

"Go away." He finds a plastic knife in the trash. It's not a weapon, really, but it's comforting to hold onto something.

howard why are you holding a knife k could snap you like a twig

[kontingency]

K hadn't really grown up with that style of children's cartoon, or he'd probably have found it amusing. However, the response he gets wasn't quite what he expected - K chooses to do the exact opposite of what he was told to do, and look inside.

(He wouldn't remotely understand why you'd assume he'd hurt you in the first place, Howard.)

"Why?" Maybe that was a childish response, but K was not the king of being a mature adult yet.

So could most people /sobsob

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Because I said so!" Howard says back, scuttling to the far corner of the dumpster - not like that's far to go. He doesn't want to touch on the real reason ("because I'm scared") so he falls on that old inexplicable.

He studies K's face, trying to discern if there's a threat there, or if K even recognizes him as another tribute. He can't tell; the face he's presented with isn't particularly expressive.

[kontingency]

There's a faint surprise - his eyebrows lift, that's all - at Howard's response. Don't worry, Howard, K wouldn't hurt a fly!

Unless they were a turtle, and pushing them into a crevice was an option.

There's no threat in his expression, of course - Howard might even be able to identify that his expression simply says nothing other than the fact that he's calm. It was a quirk he'd picked up - his expression had never mattered, before, given his suit. Only his body language had. So his face kept that eerie calm (tinged only slightly with surprise) as he looked over the other, himself.

He doesn't even have any idea that Howard's a tribute. And, if he'd known that, perhaps he'd have chosen to even more expressively integrate himself with Howard. Having people who could betray you see you as an ally never did really go wrong.

"Ah, I see." He could either attack with the question that was just dodged, or go down a new line of questioning - perhaps both? The exact why didn't matter very much to K - he could run off or dodge the question again, for all K cared. He was just curious. His tone was still level and even - maybe a touch surprised, a touch curious... "And why do you say so? Or, alternatively, why are you sitting in a dumpster?"

This was obviously the most perfect way of talking to a frightened person. Everyone else, go home. K's got this.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

K's demeanor if effective, at least, as are the questions, the obvious questions. Howard swallows and looks at where he is, that he's in the garbage holding a plastic knife in his fist. Grease and what looks like some kind of mayonnaise are staining his clothes, the nice tailored outfits his stylist provided him.

It's sobering, to really take stock of things. He knows he's jumpy and paranoid, but explaining the logic behind these things is hard. He bites his lip, chews his tongue. K doesn't look judgmental so much as curious, so Howard loses the hostility for a moment.

"It's too crowded in the restaurant. Figured I'd get the same deal in here with less people watching me." He shoves at what looks like a half-empty carton of chicken nuggets. "The food's just as good anyway, it's just cold."

[kontingency]

Just like he thought, the question was dodged. At least, the why he wanted K to shoo. He wasn't shooing K off now, so he wasn't sure what it mattered. The tailored, special outfit stained with grease and mayo goes over K's head - he'd gotten something warm and left without talking to them. He hadn't even communicated with them, really. If they provided his clothes he was wearing right now, hey, whatever - all he wanted them for was their warmth.

Howard's loss of hostility is noted, in K's brain. He understands the jumpiness and paranoia, and perhaps feeling crowded. K's never experienced that feeling until now - having grown up alone for most of his life, the clumps of people were mildly startling when he first saw them. (Although, by now, he thought they were pretty great.) In any case, he considers what the other says.

"I see..." He wasn't sure about that last sentiment. If it were only cold, then why didn't they just warm it up again? "That sounds like quite a waste of food, then. After all, just simply putting it in the garbage rather than warming and reselling it isn't the absolute most efficient they could be."

He was still only curious. But K was always critical. So apologies, Howard. (He was also from a scenario where he only ever ate rations. He doesn't understand expiration dates.)

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

K's response piques Howard's interest. Most of the other Tributes here, bar Eponine, would find eating out of the garbage highly distasteful - a luxury idea that Howard finds repellant. But K's thoughts of efficiency are right up his alley.

Howard's not looking for more allies, though. Not since the last one shoved a knife between his ribs and twisted it, then left him to bleed out in the snow. Just because someone's of like mind does not - emphatically, does not - mean that they're to be trusted.

"It is. It's totally a waste of food. So what I'm doing is a public service, honestly." He brushes some crumbs of something off his knees and tilts his head at K like a meerkat. "Who're you, anyway?"

The face looks familiar, and yet not. Almost as if Howard's seen those cheekbones and that nose before. It's perplexing.

[kontingency]

K's goal is efficiency. He's never cared about the divide between cleanliness and not - living in a 100% sterile environment with absolutely no reason to care made that easy on him.

K understands that feeling, Howard. He'd probably be the first to give you a repeat experience, there. Although, given who his father is, it's probably going to eventually end up placing him as an ally, eventually.

Sorry, Howard. If you don't have a falling out with Sigma and fail to integrate yourself into K's heart, you'll probably have this guy on your side.

"I suppose that's fair. And..." He contemplates. Should he act the amnesiac here? K was unsure. He decided not to give his name - not yet. Not pretend to be an amnesiac, but secretive was his goal. "You can call me K. ...And yourself?" Give him your name, Howard. Be polite.

Besides, saying 'I don't remember' would just be a cop out. He wasn't sure he could repeat the experience from the start of the Nonary Game.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard's eyes narrow at the hesitation, and for a moment he's tempted to give K a fake name too. After all, if this new guy isn't going to trust him with something so basic, why should he give himself away? It's not exactly starting things off on the right foot.

But at the same time, Howard's aware that his names in magazines and on those TV screens that he's so diligently avoiding. If he lies, he'll just get caught in it. And he's already getting a reputation as a liar.

"Howard. Howard Bassem. From California." He likes appending the end to his introductions. It's some reminder of what his life was like before this and the FAYZ, back when he was normal. 'Howard Bassem from California' is what he would have introduced himself as in a few years if he went to an out-of-state school, if he went to college.

[kontingency]

If K had wanted to be duplicitous about his name, he would have given the name of a character from his storybooks. He was, at least, being entirely unsubtle about it not being his real one - and he noticed the eyes narrowing. Maybe he should go with the amnesiac shtick. Or at least say he forgot his name. Was that believable? Hopefully, Howard wasn't like Dio in that respect. Not remembering anything before was significantly more pleasurable then now.

Although he was definitely sure he shouldn't give his full name. That would only cause problems. Maybe he should compromise. Klim was the part he didn't want to share with a stranger.

He'd come clean later. If he decided to trust Howard. Or if Sigma ruined it.

Until then...

Howard might be getting a reputation as a liar, but at least K's obvious about when he's not telling the truth. Unless he wants to keep it a secret.

"Ah, I see. It's nice to meet you." K couldn't blame him for the mention of 'from California'. He only knew this wasn't his world, anymore, so there was no need to really critically eye that declaration. Even if California was less then okay, insofar as he knew of Earth...

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard raises an eyebrow, giving K a skeptical look. What, exactly, is nice about meeting a twitchy stranger in a garbage can? Even just as a pleasantry, it seems a bit much.

But, he thinks to himself, maybe he's just a bit high-strung after the arena. Maybe he doesn't need to be reading into every single thing people do, trying to discern if they're going to put a blade in him.

On the other hand, maybe he does. He leans forward and spits down on the trash, feeling the imagined taste of copper in his mouth. The feeling of blood soaking through his clothes. Cold air kissing exposed skin and flesh, bright red and sticky.

"You're a Tribute."

It's not a question.

[kontingency]

It was mostly just a pleasantry. Although, it was nice to meet new people - if K had been in his right mind, he probably would have been happy to meet more people during the Nonary Game. However, he came first. And it was a game of death.

So.

Anyway, he doesn't react with surprise. His eyebrows raise slightly at the accusation, although his face moves not into a frown, but rather a smile. "Oh, dear. It appears I've been found out." Despite the cheery amicability in his face, it doesn't completely reach his voice - it's still a fluid near-monotone. "Yes, I am. I assume you are as well."

You don't accuse people like that without having a reason. Also he doubted this was California.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Yeah. Going on my third arena." Even if K hadn't deduced it, ultimately there's no point in lying - he's sure K would piece it together within the day, what with the media coverage. He hasn't looked at it, but he's sure the Capitol's going to like all the violence. All the bloody, bloody violence.

He drops the plastic knife out of his hand and wipes his palms on his pants. That the clothing is ruined doesn't seem to faze him that badly. He was wearing rags back in the FAYZ, and if he were worried about making a good impression on the Capitol's citizens - well, he's got larger issues than a few stains.

"I didn't see you on Arena Four's broadcast. You die early or you just arrived?"

[kontingency]

"I see." He nods, slightly. He probably would have pieced it together, himself. Given, he's willing to accept what you say, Howard, simply because it's so easily disproven anyway if it's a lie.

There's reasons he likes his lies to sound plausible.

He considers the other's question, for a moment. No harm in telling the truth - "I suppose a bit of both. I died the day I arrived in the Arena, a few days ago." His smile hadn't dropped much - he hadn't defaulted back to calm, yet.

Really, you wouldn't believe he could harm a fly. Especially with the show that went on before his death. Toying about in the snow...

Considering it now, he both regretted it and was okay with doing it. Perhaps it would make him less (or more? he wasn't sure) of a target, come next Arena...

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Now that is interesting, although until Howard sees the tapes - and he's in no rush to do that - he won't know if it's because of any actual fault of K's. Dying on the first day isn't necessarily an indicator that someone's incompetent.

"You look pretty laidback for someone who died recently."

Then again, maybe K just has a really flat affect. Maybe he's numb in shock, although Howard's never seen it look like this. Either way, he seems to be handling himself better than Howard is, and that infuriates him, on some hidden, private level.

Howard leans against the back of the dumpster, then hops up and sits on the edge. He folds his arms, trying to look less afraid than he is.

[kontingency]

Really, it was mostly K's fault. He'd also initiated the thing that killed him - so hey, oops. He really wasn't incompetent, though.

Or wouldn't be, running around with Sigma.

Although, now, at Howard's note, K seems to consider it. "Should I be more disturbed by it?" He asked, curiously. His hand mimicked the pose of the thinker, and he seemed consumed by the question. "I suppose it isn't as though I feel nothing about it, after all. However, dying is dying. Truly, is there any good in dwelling on it? After all, I was certainly dead then, but I'm alive now." He was still disturbed that he died, of course. But it didn't remotely show. Emotional stunting powers go.

Sorry, Howard. K's being laid back about his death, in the most rough sense of 'laid back'. Given, he wasn't stabbed - he fell to his death. But whatever.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Oh, great. A philosophical type. Howard can't stand philosophical types.

"I'd say you should be disturbed. Since it's breaking all the rules humans generally grow up taking as true, yeah." Besides, it's unpleasant, messy business, all body fluids and fear and uncertainty. Howard's stomach clenches a bit as he thinks about how it's going to happen again and again, arena after arena, and he spits again.

Everything tastes like blood lately. Normally he doesn't notice taste, but he can't help but notice this. He knows, logically, that it's because he's been chewing his lip and the inside of his mouth from stress.

"But I don't know. Everyone takes it differently, I guess. You want to just keep rolling with your high-school honors English bullshit, more power to you."

[kontingency]

K doesn't seem disturbed by the other's response until he brings up high school. K never really grew up around death - he knew about it, and being brought up by books and a psychopath tended to detach one from it. Even when he knew it was coming, he was still rational. Still prepared.

However, Howard had, perhaps, needled a weakness of his. He had read about high schools enough to know what they were. But that was, perhaps, less beneficial.

"That is fair." Howard, if only you knew exactly what was going on inside of him. He was trying to brush off the distress that had picked up on his face slightly by implying it was about the other shooting down his beliefs. It... was more about the concepts of things he'd missed. And, perhaps, had wanted to try.

Like high school. An interesting place full of interesting people, learning so many things. Surely, sessions with Lagomorph couldn't compare.

Ugh. This was a stupid thing to fixate on.

He forces it out of his mind, although he doesn't return to being calm just yet. It'd be obvious he's trying to set aside why he's distressed, if he did that. Still, his face becomes slightly more fake for the effort. "My apologies. I was not meaning to imply I am undisturbed by my death. However, I cannot see a point to dwelling on it." Even if he was, behind closed doors. At least, a little bit. There was a reason he'd picked something extremely warm, in terms of clothing, after all.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard tilts his head to the other side, hostility giving way to curiosity, to skepticism, to those squinted eyes that take in details and run them through a filter of bruises, betrayals and calculi.

"Jeez, don't take it so personally, you can deal with death however you want. I really don't care." He crouches back down in the garbage and turns over an empty carton to reveal some fried cheese sticks, cold but otherwise edible. A positive goldmine. Cheese is good protein, high calorie content. It matters to him.

"But once you find a way not to dwell on it, let me know. The Capitol seems to be all about making us dwell. I noticed snowshoeing is the new hobby of choice out here."

[kontingency]

Oh, good. He bought it. K responds to Howard's reaction by slowly returning to his calm face. He didn't want to let on that niggling fixation on what Howard had said. Although, he had perhaps rebounded too fast.

He doesn't bother responding to what the other says, however. Not the first bit. He notices the other hunt down those cheese sticks, but says nothing - Howard can make whatever decisions he likes. He'll even eat one, if offered. Although, his immune system is poor enough that might be a terrible idea.

"Presumably, that's to increase our entertainment value." He's tempted to point out that what Howard's doing right now might even be entertaining, from someone else's perspective. But he chooses not to.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard hasn't bought anything, really - he just hasn't come to a conclusion, and has decided not to press the subject. Always know your enemy before making a judgment call, he thinks. He's only just met K.

And as such, he won't be offering cheese sticks. He shoves them in his mouth as if they're going to disappear any second now, occasionally glancing up at K as if daring him to say something about table manners, like people here have. If he's going to feel reduced to eating out of a trash can, he's going to forgo proper etiquette if he damn well feels like it.

"Yeah, everybody wants to be us," he says through a mouthful of food. "Up until the point where they have to die. Then it's too realistic."

[kontingency]

He responded in the way K wanted him to; that's good enough for K. He probably didn't even realize exactly what he said that made K feel bad.

All the better.

K decidedly doesn't care about Howard's table manners - actually, he seems amused by them more then anything. Not out of some sense of superiority - however, they're like his, before his mother figure rolled along. He doesn't bother criticizing the other's manners at all - he's no mother figure, after all. He'd probably just come up as patronizing.

"That appears to be it, yes. Although, I cannot imagine why they would want to be us - forced into a game like this." Were their lives so utterly boring that they wanted to be a part of this situation?

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Because they're not forced. They get to watch, wonder what it's like to be in some kind of exciting situation, but they weren't the ones freezing out there." Or bleeding.

Howard finishes the cheese fries and starts overturning other pieces of the trash looking for more. He finds an unopened ketchup packet and rips that open with his teeth.

"We're the panoramic experience. See all the excitement and glamor without actually having to deal with the messy, inconvenient bits. You'll notice they edit out all the long hours of us huddled up in our sleeping bags."

[kontingency]

"Ah. Yes, I see what you mean." The last death game he'd been in had been a necessity; at least, that was what he was told. He'd had no audience, insofar as he knew.

Although K has to marvel slightly, because dude, are you really just gonna eat that. Although he's not entirely aware it's ketchup, just a packet of what appears to be a sauce.

"So we are their... wish fulfillment, in a sense, then?" Wow, that sounded both strange and really, really... creepy? He supposed that was the right word. He contemplated that for a second. If this were the text parser for the game, he'd pretty much just have a long segment of ... ...s. "I assume they see nothing wrong with this."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Of course not. They used to play it just with kids, believe it or not. This is a step up for them."

Howard does indeed suckle the ketchup out of the packet, then look for another. He doesn't find that, but he does uncover chicken nuggets, and starts on those. Now that he's begun, there's something almost frantic about the way he eats, less out of necessity than compulsion - although he honestly hasn't eaten in the last two days. The memory of dying keeps coming back to him, and with it nausea, the need to spit, the need to hide and be as silent as possible, which, of course, precludes chewing.