you're not the prettiest girl in town ( open! )

[hashtagyolt]

Who| Jason Toad and whoever!
What| Two prompts. See below.
Where| Tribute Center.
When| Midday and midnight.
WARNINGS| Social media addiction, language possibly. Idk I'll edit as needed.



1 ) District 4 Suites ; Midnight-4am, Monday Night.

As curfew had been enforced that evening, Jason had gone quietly. His plan demanded the appearance of at least minimal cooperation. Earlier in the day, he'd procured a disc of the most annoying music Panem had to offer. Moreover, he'd planned ahead. He'd begged and pleaded his Escort for what amounted to a very fancy boom box, and bless his heart, the poor man had come through.

He retired early, totting a book with him. It was some bodice-ripper-esque romance, trashy but entertaining in a guilty pleasure sort of way. He'd napped in between reading chapters, occasionally curbing his enthusiasm to run out into the common area of the suite and share, with some wholly unsuspecting suite mate, an amusing moment or anecdote. Romance novels, not enough people appreciated them. It was truly a tragedy.

Eventually, however, midnight rolled around, and the hour to act was upon him. As he cued up the song, he couldn't help the smirk that crept across his face. It wasn't as if he was breaking rules, technically, and Panem's definitions of offensive nuisance left something to be desired anyway.

The song repeated once. He settled back on his bed with the book, popping in some cheap rubber earplugs.

The song repeated again. The only downside to this was, while the earplugs made it bearable, there was no way to avoid the music completely. He'd be whistling it for days. Oh well. You win some, you lose some.

The third repeat was mildly annoying, but by the fourth, he found himself tuning it out. It was like he had developed an immunity.

By the fifth, he was snoozing again, the bodice-ripper abandoned haphazardly, cast off the side of the bed.

((ooc: Okay, so Swagger Jagger will be blasting solidly from 12am-4am. It's audible (at various levels) on the entirety of the 4th floor. It will also be audible (annoyingly, but not overpoweringly) on floors 3 and 5. Feel free to be pissed at him. That was the point. Anyone in D4 is welcome to bang on his door and try and make him knock it off.))

2 ) Training Center ; the next day.

Jason Peter Todd is no slouch. Even if he hadn't been trained by the goddamn Batman, he's still a ninja, (goddammit,) and it shows. He goes through some basic yuddha kalā with a precision unmatched by most. The few mistakes he makes, he trots off quite nimbly, no matter how dramatic they seem. Either he's tougher stuff than the boy band hair would lead you to believe, or he's your typical 20-year old alpha male who can't stand the idea of being embarrassed in public. Maybe a little of both. Probably mostly both.

In any case, he finishes his second routine with a flourish. Even if he weren't a bit of an exhibitionist (anyone who willingly runs around in green tights at the age of 14 probably has that ingrained in them), Jason has a mind to game the system a bit. It looks good to be good. It, at the risk of quoting Kanye, gets the people going. He remembers going through an Arena with no sponsor support. It needs the people going.

Comments

2;

[soultospare]

Megan, meanwhile, has been spending her free time in the training facility, not in an attempt to impress sponsors, but in an attempt not to totally suck next time she was in an arena. Her first brush with death had been horrible. She was scared out of her mind. And yet, here she was again, bright and bubbly and very much alive, and very much loathe to repeat the experience.

She arrives at the facility in her gym clothes ready to get some cardio in when she notices the adorably cute boy band looking dude doing all the really neat moves across the gym. It takes her a second or two before she recognizes him as Jason.

He's a lot cuter in person. Holy crap.

Before she can stop herself, Megan is waving at him stupidly, smiling like a total idiot. Too late to play it cool or anything. "Hey! How's it going? What were you doing just now? That looked really cool!"

[hashtagyolt]

And she's weirder looking in person. Like human photoshop. It's not a bad thing.

He stops mid-dandayamana dhanurasana and turns his head, breaking form to pull himself into a more conventional stance. The switch between workout mode and talking-to-cure-girl mode is almost palpable.

"It's... " He trails off, looking for words to explain that, actually he was practicing a 5th Century martial art lost to time and only preserved through an ageless, deathless, cult of which he happened to be the last member due to, well a sudden massacre and that that totally wasn't weird at all please don't ask. A millisecond before he trips over himself explaining, though, a thought occurs. "It's yoga."

That's fashionable. Yoga is a thing people do. "I forget the type, exactly, but it's something I picked up in India a while back. Helps me think."

[soultospare]

Megan wasn't exactly a professional yogi or anything, but she'd taken a few hot yoga classes before, and whatever it was that Jason was doing sure didn't resemble any kind of yoga she'd ever seen. Truthfully? She thought he was pulling her leg.

Except for maybe the trip to India. That part sounded really neat.

"You must've been in deep contemplation or something." She crosses her arms, not quite able to recover her coolness factor at all. "I usually fly when I need to clear my head. Except I can't exactly do that anymore."

[hashtagyolt]

"The deepest," he replies, only a little flippantly. It's not that he's not paying attention to her, not at all. It's that he's trying to wrap his head around literal fairies talking about flying. "Anyway, you can fly? Tell me about that."

Because right now he's picturing Superman, or Green Lantern. Or you know, anyone cooler than Batman. Literally anyone.

"I used to fly sometimes. Well, I glide actually. I had this neat set up that would attach to my jacket. My friend Kori helped me rig it up."

[soultospare]

"Of course I can. What good are wings if you can't use them?" Her wings flutter slightly, as if adding emphasis to her words. Her wings didn't work in Panem though, and she was still trying to figure out how come. There was nothing quite so infuriating as wanting to fly and being unable.

Except maybe for being so close to a cute guy and totally losing the ability to say anything charming or useful.

"So you've got a glider jacket and you do yoga. And you're from New Jersey. Is that it? Or is there anything else a girl should know?" Like, are you single? Because Megan could totally get lost in those baby blues. She blinked, blushing a bit. She hoped Jason wouldn't notice.

[hashtagyolt]

"Nope, that hits all the major plot points." Except for dying, or being a part of a secret ninja cult, or Kori being a certified space alien princess, or his... Whatever Roy was to him, being a hacker genius fresh out of prison for war crimes. Jason smiles in a way that he hopes is suitably benign. He throws in a shrug for good measure. "Jersey, jackets and yoga. You forgot India, but yeah, I think that's it.

You keeping tabs on me for fun, or should I be concerned that you're some kind of manic pixie serial killer? Either way, I'm flattered. Cute girls don't usually hassle me at the gym."

[soultospare]

"Am I hassling you?" Megan's cheeks went hot, and she worried that she really was being a bother. The compliment went completely over her head for a moment before she finally caught on that maybe, just maybe he was teasing her in a good way. Could it be? Was she successfully (sort of) flirting with a hot guy? The prospect almost made being kidnapped by an evil alternate universe worth it. Kind of. Almost.

"If you don't like it, I could always..." A beat, as her wings droop invitingly. "Flutter away, I guess."

[hashtagyolt]

"Or not." He tosses his head from side to side, playing as cool as possible. "But you did interrupt my workout. I was trying to be impressive and game the system for whatever it's worth."

Her face matches her hair. It's only a little weird with those eyes. "We could always spar, or something. Do you fight at all, magical girl?"

[soultospare]

She laughed, perking up some. "If I couldn't fight I'd make a pretty sorry super hero."

And at last, that look of mischief returned and she was back in business. Truthfully though, Megan couldn't quite believe he was indulging her. After all she was just a stupid magical girl while he was a total mega stud. Talking to guys like Jason was supposed to be difficult, wasn't it? She was just some pink haired freak. Gorgeous guys like him weren't supposed to want to hang out or... spar.

Oh god what if he touched her? She might faint. Or scream. Or both. Eep.

Okay, cool it, Megs. No need to be a total weirdo.

"That is to say, I know a thing or two."

[hashtagyolt]

"Superheroes are pretty sorry as a rule." He didn't look at her directly as he made the comment and it held a certain air of dismissal that, if Jason could help it, would remain unexplained. "Doesn't matter how well they fight."

"Anyway," he said, stalking over to a corner of the practice mat and waiting for her to follow. "Do your worst. I can take it. Promise."

He had like a hundred and forty pounds on her, at least. Magical fairy powers notwithstanding, how much damage could she do?

[soultospare]

She almost asked him if he was sure, wanted to warn him that she'd been trained by Wolverine and knew how to throw a punch. But instead, she leveled Jason with a determined glare, and without any fanfare, she launched her attack with speed that was really rather impressive. Without her flight or teleportation she felt she was moving slow as molasses, but in reality there was a clear swiftness to her, and she darted at Jason ready to slip around his back and bring him down from behind.

[hashtagyolt]

The speed did catch him by surprise. In a way, the swiftness reminded him of himself when he had been her size. It was an enviable position, one that, on occasion, Jason found himself missing. You could compromise strength for equipment fairly easily, and size could always be built up. It was another matter entirely to become small once you were big.

She hit with a decent amount of force, too. Not enough to jostle him. Not really, anyway.

Nevertheless, Jason fell backward. Not hard, but with a dramatic flair and the appropriate sound disgruntled sound effect. From the angle, she would have had to catch herself quickly to avoid a somewhat compromising position. "Not bad for someone who looks like the sugar plum fairy. I like your style."

Not to be give her the entirely wrong impression, he used his greater strength and flipped them. Now it was a little compromising. "Your move."

[soultospare]

Megan's breath caught in her throat as the tables suddenly turned on her. She wasn't expecting to keep the upper hand on him, but to wind up in a completely, utterly, totally compromising position without was more than a little embarrassing. In that moment, for a second, she almost forgot they were supposed to be fighting and weren't like, engaged in some sort of weird schoolyard wrestling match/courtship ritual. She blushed, she couldn't help it, then gave Jason a smile, as if to shrug it all off.

"And you're not bad for someone who looks like a... erm..." She paused, black eyes blinking slowly. "Oh who am I kidding? You got me."

She didn't make any move to break free however. Instead, her eyes narrowed a bit as she studied his now very close face. "I'm sure you must get this quite often, but you're really very good looking, you know."

1

[ka_sera_sera]

It isn't hard to trace the sound to its source. Well, hard on his ears, but simple. He's waited just long enough to be sure that this is intended to go on a while before making his way to the relevant door and knocking on it with his whole forearm, loud and quick enough that, hopefully, the noise doesn't blend in with the song.

If that gets the attention of whoever's staying in here Roland will be waiting, grimacing at the noise. He isn't angry. He isn't even more than a little bit frustrated. Mostly what he is is confused.

Swagger Jagger. What does that even mean.

Nevermind that.

Roland dismisses the thought and waits. If there's no answer he isn't going to break the door down or force it open - there are few worse ways to make a bad impression on a fellow tribute, especially one he has to live with - but maybe he'll think of something.

[hashtagyolt]

The thumping is what gets to him. It's a dull sound, probably the only kind of sound that could be perceived over the pulse of the music. He sets the book down on the bed beside him, and gingerly pops out one earplug, then another. The thump is definitely there, it isn't his imagination.

Jason is smiling by the time he actually answers the door. This is really the best way to make friends with his neighbors. Way better than baked goods or potted plants nobody likes.

"Evening. There something I can help you with, mister...?" Do not acknowledge the music. Pretend nothing is abnormal. The smile lapses into a lazy smirk, but otherwise his pokerface is doing pretty well.

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland's first assumption is that this is done purely to be a prick, to get some reaction, because the whole picture - casual tone, polite question, seeming not to notice the incomprehensible nonsense destroying his hearing in the background - is something a couple of his old friends would have very much enjoyed doing. The thought irritates him, both the thought and the reminder of loved ones long gone, and maybe that shows some in his face.

"Just how much are you aiming to piss all of us off?" He leans forward, keeping his hands well back so it doesn't look like a threat, but not particularly wanting to shout. "Trying to goad someone into throwing the first punch? You know none of that'll do you any good here."

[hashtagyolt]

"Nah." Jason waves him off with all the privilege of a rich, twenty-something jet-setter. It's not directly rude, just airy enough to be dismissive. "What makes you think anybody here is the target?"

In a way, they are, presuming they're in the same building anyway. And that's a pretty big presumption, he realizes. Generally bigwigs of scary totalitarian governments don't just chill in the same area as their (probably pissed off) alternate universe captives. It's just not practical.

Still, on the off chance that anybody who matters can get wind of this, it'll be worth it. Maybe. And if not, it's still funny. He smiles broadly. It's all youthful blue eyes and white teeth. It'd be charming if it weren't for the obnoxious music still blaring in the background. "You all could just be collateral damage."

[ka_sera_sera]

It's as if the phrase was specifically tailored for Roland, carefully handcrafted for the set purpose of getting under his skin. He tries not to let it show, but doesn't entirely succeed - his eyes narrow, his shoulders tense. The resemblance to Eddie is only getting stronger, because it was ever so with him, too. Roland's control over his mood always tended to go right out the window once Eddie really got his mouth going.

Hopefully Roland can cut things off here before it gets to that point. Speak some reason, make the boy see sense. "Who then? The gamemakers?" Roland gives a quick shake of his head, making a dismissive noise that's probably lost under a particularly strident arc of notes from the woman's song. "You think they give a shit what we do to one another? When you catch their attention, boy, believe me when I say that you'll know it."

"Turn this off and try again. This time, with something that'll actually work."

[hashtagyolt]

"Whatever, bro." There's another dismissal, this one accompanied by a wave of his hand. Jason leans up against the door frame. Cher Lloyd ends and then, a moment later, begins again. He doesn't seem to notice.

"This is actually the song of my people. I think I'm gonna keep listening for a bit longer while I read." He takes a deep breath of pure, conditioned, recycled air. The bad part of being under curfew is not being able to go out and grab a smoke.

"Anyway, I was reading, so if there's nothing else..."

[ka_sera_sera]

Roland pulls back, grimacing. Clearly nothing's going to get done here. At least not with words, and this isn't worth taking any further than that. Now, if this should happen a second time... Well, they'll see then. For now he just gives a snort of disgust and turns away, reflecting on how far that had gone from where he'd wanted it to.

And, damn it, he still doesn't know what swagger jagger means.