thecapitol | (no subject)

Current Mood: complacent
Current Music: crawling - linkin park

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Who| Chris and open
What| Out and about in the Capitol
Where| Throughout the Capitol
When| After recovery from his death in the arena and post valentines
Warnings/Notes| possible violence, Parker, need I say more?

Chris despite the curfew needed fresh air, so as soon as they're let out he's in one of the markets trying to get used to what they called fashion. Today he actually dressed up nice, just for the sake it made the stylists happy.

Also helped to look better dressed when going to the clubs. He was steering clear of ones that were arena geared, finding one with only two TV's. Ordering a beer and sandwich he got a table facing the door out of habit. If any other tributes showed up he'd chat but for now... He was still trying to find somewhere that was close to the sports bar he frequented back home.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Unlike Chris, Parker is dressed to be invisible. She wants to be considered a non-entity, and even her hood is pulled down over her face.

She follows him into the club. She may not know his name, but she knows he's one of the other tributes. Although she hadn't taken her first arena seriously, Parker has every intention of not losing to a woman with bubbles again.

At first, she will sit to to the side and watch. Then, she will pull a chair up beside him.

Chris notices when she pulled up the chair. Looking at her he smiles. "Now I think I would have noticed you in the training center before." He figured she was a tribute none of the locals would dress so plainly.

"Never been."

Parker, always the conversationalist. Wait, he's smiling. That means he's friendly, or he's plotting something. Yeah, definitely plotting something. Look at him with that allegedly innocent sandwich and beer.

"Am I supposed to?"

"They say it makes things easier in the arena if you're social. I'll pass on that." He watched her a moment. "You want one? They're not as good as the cheese steaks from Tony's back home, but they beat the candy colored crap they keep trying to serve as real food here. And the beer's not half bad." Hey he can be nice when he wants. Plotting? Only how to get back home and what to do if his sister shows up.

"Social?" That word sounds like a foreign concept. "Why be nice to everyone trying to kill me?"

Bluntness, also classic Parker. "And why's the food look like Smurf crap?"

"Because the rest at the training center are kidnapees like you." He turned looking at her. "You just got here didn't you?"

"They like gaudy stuff haven't you noticed? It's like a girl's room blew up on everyone with a vengeance."

"But they still want to kill me." And since he offered, not for a second thinking that he might be suggesting she order her own, she swipes one half of the sandwich.

It might be a shockingly fast swipe. She takes a hug bite and talks with her mouthful.

"Like Alice exploded. She likes girlie things."

"It's that or from what I've heard we get punished. They brought me here, I'd hate for them to bring my friends here." Or Claire, but that was left unsaid as he took a sip from his beer.

He had meant he'd order her one but hey no problem sharing. He did order her another beer though.

He wasn't sure who Alice was but nodded. "Sure," He was chuckling though. the blond was entertaining, and he had to admit he liked the bluntness of her.

"I'm Chris."

Parker shrugs her shoulders, "I didn't kill anyone. Didn't need to." No, that's Eliot's job. They don't do as well if they do someone else's job.

Yes, well, the sandwich was there, and Parker has a habit of taking what isn't hers. He may find that out later. Maybe she should try for a pocket now -- oh, beer.

"Parker." Under any other circumstances, she would've lied about her name, but considering she couldn't go anywhere without seeing the faces of tributes -- her own included -- there wasn't a point. It sounds more like 'Ar-er' as she's eating."

It's driving him insane, being surrounded by so many potential meals and every single one of them is off-limits. R's fingers twitch at his sides, watching Capitol citizens wearing every color under the sun walking down the street. It's turning every rule he knows on its head. These people should be wearing dark, neutral colors, trying to blend in instead of screaming "here I am, look at me!". There should be other Dead with him, but he's a hunting party of one and the last few times he tried to bite at people through the muzzle, he got himself stuffed into the bathroom until he cooled his heels, according to his Escort.

So here he is. Creeping on all the free meals out there he can't have.

He's hungry for conversation, too. Normal conversation, not the weird ones you get with the Capitol people. R picks a guy who somehow stands out from the other Capitol citizens, his colors more drab, his walk shouting military puke (or whatever). R checks for any sign of guns before he starts shuffling after, following him into an alley.

"Tribute?" He finally coughs out in a groan.

Chris had left the bar trying to blend in with the crowd only because he really didn't want to talk to locals. Heading through a darkened park would have been the last thing he'd willingly do after Raccoon, but got him away from the crowd.

Though the groaned word made him pause. Chris tensed scanning the shadows, wishing he had his gun, because really that sound was something a little too familiar.

He spotted him and scowled a moment. "Great, we get Wesker here, I should have figured the bastards would have grabbed one of the sick folks that made the virus. Let me guess you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time?" The muzzle made Chris think... If the Capitol had done it they were keeping it alive, and it still talked.

He hated the idea of the kid suffering like that, He was half tempted to put it out of it's misery.

Edited 2013-02-26 20:38 (UTC)

"They'll make you do it here." He frowned at that though. "Just do your best okay." He'd add her to the list of people he'd keep an eye out for in the Arena.

Chris was used to noming speech, after all grabbing a bite between running around back home, it was a skill that came in useful. The other beer arrived and he leaned back a little. "Well Parker, if things get too bad don't bother asking for help okay? Hate seeing you pretty ladies in this hell hole."

"Nobody makes me do anything." Parker says through the sandwich. She has no idea she's picked up a protector.

She takes a swig of beer, and then looks at him over the bottle when he calls her pretty, or, more shockingly, lady.

"You've been the arena right? Or you luck out going in there?" He smiles at the look. "What? No one give you compliments before Parker?"

"Wuhs...?" R stared at the other Tribute. Was he supposed to know a Wesker? R racked his decayed brain for any Weskers, any Dead who tried to make any Wuhs or Wwws that could sound like a Wesker if you used your imagination. Not ringing any bells. He managed a shrug at the question. Wrong place or wrong time or both?

"Beats me," R surprised himself by getting that out without stuttering it into nothing. "Does it ma-mut - " so much for being on a roll, " - matter?"

The way the guy looked at him was actually normal in R's mind. He definitely looked military up close, like he knew how to handle a gun and R suspected he probably could manage some head shots if zombie pack came at him. The fact he was only looking and not trying to gun him down said he probably wasn't armed.

Chris eased up ever so slightly, he still didn't trust the kid, but he wasn't going to make a scene. The talking bit... still kinda creeped him out.

"How long you been like that?" Okay so that was rude to ask, but hey Chris was trying to avoid the whole 'how to kill you without a gun' bit.

How long like - oh, yeah. R shrugged.

"Years. I...think," he added, not sounding all that sure. (Was he imagining that he could feel this guy looking at his head and thinking about decapitation? Because that would be legit from a soldier-type.)

Years? Then he couldn't be someone from home at least. Though could be from Wesker's...

He did keep his distance still trying to decide to put him out of his misery. The guy couldn't be happy with that muzzle on... and it was briefly tempting to remove it, just to show their kidnappers how stupid they were... He shook his head to clear that thought.

R stood there trying his best not to sway. Swaying and rocking and all that stuff might creep this guy out and R decided maybe he didn't like how he was eyeballing him here. He kept expecting an ax to magically appear in his hands. R shuffled his feet.

"Seen other...Dead?" R asked, more for something to say. A moment later he realized that probably wasn't the question to ask a guy like this, but too late, it was already out. "Or people from home?"

"Not here. Back home, there was... well let's just say I've been to a place full of your kind. They probably took out my whole team." He hoped not. Jill Barry and Wesker he knew made it inside, maybe other S.T.A.R.S. did as well.

This was all kinds of awkward. R wanted to agree they probably did bite dirt but somehow he thought that might only piss Soldier Boy off. He settled for the safe bet: he shrugged. Noncommittal he could do.

"Dunno," R said with a cautious slur. "Not...one of them."

That was a good defense, the "I totally ate people, just not your people" defense.

Give him a little longer he did walk out of a bar after all so his drunken mind is still trying to comprehend that he's actually having a semi-intelligent conversation with a walking corpse...

"Probably only reason I don't try to punch you right now." Though still releasing him on the people in the squeare's still tempting. If only because they get off of watching the tributes suffer, they should feel their own medicine.

That had to be one mean punch. "Trying to get - " R watched the slightly unfocused look in the Living man's eyes. " - along. Truce?"

The thought of it is full of superhuman strength which Chris lacks, so really the thought of the punch is more spectacular than it'll really be...

Knowing Chris... and how badly he's done in the games so far, R would be able to handle him, just tap his neck he'll go down easy!

Truce though... Chris pondered this a moment. "Ends when I see you attack someone... Okay one of the other tributes. Deal?"

R chewed the inside of his cheek, seemed to realize he was doing it, and cut it out before he started biting off chunks of himself on accident. He bobbed his head in a nod.

"Deal. I'll...try," R meant it. If he could get away with not thinking about eating Julie or Howard, then it had to be possible, right? "This anyway."

He pointed at the muzzle. With that on, it was hard to eat people, not even to sneak in a little nibble. See, Soldier Boy? He could behave. Not all zombies were jerks. R suddenly felt like he had something to prove here, trying to stand up straighter and realizing he couldn't match this other Tribute's posture.

"They don't let you feed at all do they?" Chris frowned at that because really bad enough bringing him here... letting him starve was worse.

"Some bubbly woman killed me." Parker doesn't really remember it, but she does remember the waking up afterward.

Parker looks back at the sandwich and doesn't say anything for a second.

When she does, she says "Pretzels."

"Kind...of?" R shrugged. That was what he thought of the food they gave him: only worth a shrug at best. It had nothing on live, moving food, especially the brain and all those memories and impulses. But he wasn't starving entirely, either. R hadn't worked out if he's glad or not or feels anything about it one way or another. "Better than..."

R frantically searched his memory for anything Julie or Perry might've said about the old days. Be funny, not creepy. Be cool and witty and not Dead. Especially to the soldier guy giving you the evil eyes.

"Mc...Don-alds," R finished proudly.

That had him shake his head. "I think I know who you're talking about. Don't feel that bad, she's not that bad a person. And hell my first one, let a kid kill me."

Though pretzels has him look at her quizzically as he took a bite from the other half of the sandwich. "Wha agou prezles?"

Chris had to laugh at that. Golden arches wasn't that great, but it was a good switch up when it was late and pizza just wasn't what was craving.

"Kid, almost anything can be better than Mickie Dee's. Well, okay, my cooking's out unless it's on a barbecue." Okay so Chris fried a lot of things with fire, didn't mean he would stop eating his steaks that way!

"Gonna get her back." Parker only feels vengeful. Hey, if true death is taken off the table, why not?

"Nothing. No. Said nothing. What?" Parker's most careless coverup ever.

That got a small chuckle. "Just in the arena okay? I actually like having some people around to talk to out of it."

He swallowed the bite and grinned. "Okay fine didn't say anything about pretzels."

Oh hey, he got him to laugh. Great! R relaxed slightly. He liked Soldier Boy a lot better when he was laughing with reluctant smile instead of giving him that...other look. Thank you, stolen memories, for giving R something to work with. (Although R was self-aware enough to keep his mouth shut there. Saying he got jokes by chewing on people's brains wouldn't help).

"Barby...good?" R latched onto that. Talk about cooking and food. Just be vague on what kind of food they're talking about and maybe they're good. The other Tribute looked less murderous to him, so it was a start.

"You have to talk to her?" Well, this is Parker and killing her puts bubble woman on the do not like list.

"No pretzels."

"Not really, but I promised I'd help her out okay?"

He watched her a moment. "Nickname for a friend?"

"Doesn't need help." No, bubble woman needs to die.

"No. NO." Which translates to yes. Don't ask.

"You're probably right."

He nodded. "Then what's a safe topic?"

"It can be if it's done right." He was finding it amusing he was having this conversation with a zombie. He must have had more to drink than he thought.

R was having the same thought (only without the drinking). He stood there, shuffled his feet out of habit. "Maybe could...teach me?"

He didn't think he'd like charred meat but he was willing to give it a chance. Besides, it'd show Soldier Boy here they could get along.

"Guess I could at some point... We'd have to be careful, don't know if you'd go up if you caught on fire."

Chris was actually thinking this might be managable.

"Fire," R nods his head sagely. Yeah, you don't want to see him go up in flames. BBQ zombie smells even worse than BBQ human. "No fun. Bummer."

"Sandwiches." Parker replies, rather too quickly through another mouthful of said sandwich.

"Sandwiches are good."

"Roast beef from Amanda's Deli back home... God I miss those." He nodded in agreement. "These aren't bad, but they're missing something." He just couldn't put his finger on it yet.

Parker takes another nibble, and takes her time tasting it. Food is usually just something to eat for energy. Something quick, like cereal's best.

"Slices of apple? Eliot puts stuff like that in his sandwiches."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

(no subject)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Let's pretend R catches Chris after he's left the bar?

I'm cool with that

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject