thecapitol | As I Arrived I Thought I Saw You Leaving [Closed]

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As I Arrived I Thought I Saw You Leaving [Closed]

Who| Linden Lockhearst and Kevin
What| Two very different District 6 Mentors finally get a chance to meet.
Where| A Capitol party
When| During the current arena
Warnings/Notes| Drugs/alcohol, talk of violence and death?

Though it doesn't manage to break the placid surface Linden affects in public (at least, until his favorite vices disrupt it), Linden is quietly furious tonight. He has been ever since this arena was announced; it's bad enough that only one person can win, but the rules for this set of Games has made him essentially useless to the District 6 Tributes who are currently fighting for their lives. His promises to Nill to get Karkat and Clementine sponsors, to get Karkat a sickle... all of it is meaningless with this newest rewrite. Considering it is one of Linden's only jobs that mean anything at all, he's pretty lackluster at his other job... attending this party. Sponsors drift by and though some want to talk, he brushes them off as quickly as he can without being abrupt or rude; this cycle, he doesn't need them, so he'd prefer not indulging people who can't help him or his kids with gossip or stories. Instead, he drifts toward the refreshments, where he takes his first of what will be many alcoholic beverages of the evening. He might as well overdo it, since no one is actually relying on him to wake up tomorrow morning at a decent hour.

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Kevin isn't...much for drinking. The last time he had gotten drunk, things had gone sort of...strange, and he didn't remember much of it. No, the allure of alcohol simply isn't present in Kevin's psyche right now, regardless of what barely-suppressed turmoil is lurking behind that huge, forced grin. He does, however, take up a big glass of deep red punch from a bowl very near Linden, fumbling momentarily (and strangely - was that a twitch through his hand?) with the glass and catching it just in time to avoid bumping into the stranger.

"Oh gosh - I'm sorry, friend!" Lightless voids fix upon Linden's pale face, warped grin spreading by a fraction. "Clumsy me, almost got punch alllll over you."

The twitch is what catches Linden's eye first; he probably wouldn't have managed to win his arena all those years ago if he wasn't good at seeing things that were out of place, that could pose a threat. The fumble gets a swift reaction, and he turns, alert and at attention; it wouldn't be the first time he'd been attacked at a party, but...

...no, a fumble really was all. His eyes (which have also incidentally been described as "lightless") meet Kevin's, but they're quickly drawn to that grin. Though they haven't spoken, he knows the visage, he's been on top of things enough to know who's in his district, especially those of... note. Kevin, as a Victor, is certainly of note.

"Think nothing of it," he replies, gaze drifting down to the hand holding the punch glass again. "You're... Kevin, right?"

He forces that pause, so as not to seem like he knows too much. Better to seem spacey, drunker than he is, harmless. It's gotten him through over a decade and it's a technique he's grown to rely on.

Oh! He's being recognized! Time to make nice with a new friend. His tone goes over-bright, those eyes of his (or, technically, the lack thereof - where Linden's eyes are simply dark, Kevin's appear to be outright MISSING) going a little wider with excitement.

"Why yes," he chirps, adjusting his grip against his glass. "I am! And I'm sure I'm just SO excited to meet you, Mister...?"

His free hand is stuck out for a handshake - the palm and fingers stained with something deep red.

Part of adjusting to these otherworldly Tributes is getting used to not being recognized again. As a Victor for over a decade, Linden is accustomed to every man, woman and child in Panem knowing what he looks like, how he reacts when he's kissed, and how he got the scar across his throat, because it all happened on live broadcast before he was even 16 years old. In so many ways, he prefers approaching new relationships without others being familiar with those uncomfortable, vulnerable moments.

He's seen stranger-looking Tributes, but that lack of eyes is unnerving. So is the deep red on his palms and fingers. With just the barest moment of apprehension, he accepts, clasping Kevin's hand and shaking it a few times. "Linden Lockhearst, of District 6. I grew up there, and I won the 63rd annual Hunger Games," he explains. "I understand that we're co-Mentors."

The handshake is firm and confident, at odds with the twitch that had almost spilled punch all over Linden moments ago. Kevin's demeanor is all business - what you'd expect from someone meeting someone in a professional setting. Not what you'd expect from someone meeting a drunk person for the first time.

"Oh MY! We are! How exciting it is to meet you - I'm sorry that it hasn't happened sooner!"

The reason why it hasn't happened sooner is because Kevin has been, when not schmoozing at parties, locked mysteriously in his room - but that's just another question on the pile where this guy is concerned.

"A belated congratulations on your win!"

Something in the back of his head hopes that Linden won't bring up his own win.

Something else waits for it.

Linden isn't quite sure what he expected, but that handshake wasn't it. He's starting to understand what Stephen meant; it truly is all business with this one, all the time, and that stretched-out, perpetual smile says that business is good.

Just... maybe not wholesome. But when has anything in the Capitol been wholesome? Kevin sticks out, but he also, discouragingly, fits right in.

"I'm sorry, as well," he says, pulling his hand back, half-expecting to see it stained the same startling color as Kevin's. "With us being in the same District, I confess I've been attempting to keep an eye out for you..."

That's brilliant, say "eye out" to someone whose eyes actually appear to BE out...

"...yours, as well. I understand you consider it a promotion, and I have to say, most people in the Capitol would probably agree with you."

Luckily (?) for Linden, the substance on Kevin's hands seems to be dry, coming away without leaving much in the way of residue. He folds his hands around his glass in a confident, polite sort of way, all his body language suggesting comfort and...well, business.

The potential verbal faux pas even appears to go whistling over his blonde, well-coifed head.

What does not, however, is what's going unsaid in Linden's words. He doesn't appear ruffled, but he does chuckle in a gently forced fashion, blinking owlishly and leaning forward a bit.

"I do consider it a promotion - it IS a promotion! But gosh...are you implying that you don't think it is?"

Linden has his lucky nights, and his not-so-lucky ones. It is still wildly unclear which one this will turn out to be. While Stephen's done his best to warn Linden about his fellow District Victor, it's piqued his curiosity rather than discouraged or frightened him away from interacting with the hollow-eyed horror story.

It takes a conscious effort not to move away from Kevin as he leans forward, but Linden manages to hold his ground, even to look comfortable.

"Life is better for Victors in a lot of ways," he allows, half-dodging the question. "I have to say, you should be prouder than most. You're the first cannibal I'm aware of who's been allowed to win."

"Cannibal?"

A weird sort of laugh escapes the strange man, sounding very nearly defensive. Kevin was more than aware that he has eaten people before. It didn't particularly bother him. Granted, during his Arena it hadn't...precisely been on his own terms, but - he doesn't want to think too hard about that.

"I'm not a cannibal, friend! I'm just efficient. Gosh, I don't understand why everyone gets so upset about it."

There's suddenly a whiff of burning flesh, a blink at the back of Kevin's neck.

That's a new and interesting reaction, one Linden wasn't expecting. It certainly doesn't disappoint him, since he may or may not have been actively looking for a way to shake the affable and businesslike facade of the Victor.

"Not upset," he is quick to reassure Kevin. "Just interested. It is something I know little about, as my experiences are limited. I have heard that it is like pork, so... tell me, if you would. Is that in fact the case?"

He stiffens at the singed scent and that bit of unnatural movement. It occurs to him that what he's poking at might be better left alone, but Linden's never been terribly good at leaving interesting things alone.

"I'm sorry... are you all right?"

He does his very best to lace his voice with the proper amount of concern.

That's...a different take on things. Kevin calms down again, picking up that cheerful demeanor without skipping a beat. Along with the change in mood comes the cessation of the burning - which he doesn't quite seem to notice.

"Just fine! Never better."

A sip of his drink.

"I guess it...is KIND of like pork, now that you mention it! But like any meat, it depends on how you eat it. It's not my favorite, but if it's the most efficient option...."

Linden matches the drink with a recklessly downed gulp of his own. As a Victor and a human being, he is not known for his grasp on moderation, but it serves more of a purpose than getting smash-drunk; he noticed the pain, and the way the change in tone and expression seemed to soothe it, but if he's too obvious about noticing it, or comments on it, he might not be able to coax the phenomenon into repeating itself.

"I'm not experienced in eating meat... aside from fish, which, after my arena, I'd be content to leave alone and never taste again. How does preparation affect taste? And what is a circumstance where it would be most efficient?"

Kevin has been in the Capitol long enough by now to ignore any manner of excess on the part of residents, drinking or otherwise - and so he says nothing about it, merely carrying on with this conversation.

"Oh! Well, spices, the manner of cooking, and the degree of cooking can all really change what a piece of meat tastes like! My favorite way to take any kind of meat is as fresh as possible. I've heard some people get sick if things aren't cooked enough, but...well, it's never bothered me."

The last question is broad enough that it doesn't zero in on anything particularly unpleasant to Kevin - his cheery tone remains.

"Well, think about it! All those people in the arena that you have to kill anyway? Why let them go to waste? Letting their bodies just rot seems kind of disrespectful, don't you think?"

"I have thought about it," Linden says earnestly. "District 6 had a Tribute in the Games once who thought just that way, and he went very far. His name was Titus. The Capitol thought differently about the practice then, but since they let you win, they must have changed their minds about the agreeability of the subject. Congratulations, on that change. You must be at least partially responsible."

"Well, gosh - if I have opened the door to progress, then that leaves me with some really great job satisfaction!"

This concept pleases Kevin deeply - and the thoughts that made his microchip spark just moments ago are now miles away once again.

He drains his glass of punch.

"Now it's just a matter of mastering my current position!"

Linden grins tensely; nowhere near as wide and sharp as Kevin's, of course, which looks a fair amount like a crisply pressed let of lapels

"Job satisfaction? Well, isn't that all any of us can strive for?"

He hasn't touched his own punch in a little while, now.

"If there's anything you're struggling with, you can tell me. I've been a Mentor in our District for over a decade, so I've had a fair deal of experience."

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As I Arrived I Thought I Saw You Leaving [Closed]

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