thecapitol | [open] There's no place like this shithole

Entry tags:

[open] There's no place like this shithole

Who| Samuel and You
What| Arriving to the tribute center
Where| Central commons
When| December 30th
Warnings/Notes| None yet

Samuel didn't bring anything but the well-worn clothes on his back to the tribute center, knowing full well that not much he owned was going to be acceptable for being a public figure anyway so he might as well let the stylists do their thing. Not as if he could stop them if he tried in any case.

He wondered idly if Jolie was still around, and kind of hoped that she was. At least with her he knew what to expect, and they could have a good old argument about it all before he had to wear ridiculous shit to look good for the cameras. She wouldn't sell him out over a few quips here and there, which wasn't much when you thought about it but it was more than you could expect from some people in this poisonous city.

He wandered over to the bar and took a seat, and quickly recorded a little "hi I'm here" message for the network in case there were tributes around who might want to come say hi. Or old acquaintances for that matter.

Shit, he was so out of the loop. It had been something of a blessing to just forget about the Capitol for a while, but he regretted it now, another boulder adding itself to the mountain of guilt resting snugly on his shoulders. People were suffering, and he had not been able to do anything but wallow in his own pain for a while there.

And now he was back, in the middle of an ongoing arena it would seem.

He got himself a drink, and then just waited for someone to show up. Someone always did in this place, sooner or later.

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God, Jolie is freaking out. Honestly, she's been in a perpetual state of freak out since. What? July? It feels like it's been longer than that, but at least this is a mild improvement from freak outs about murder and mayhem. Now it's guy problems. Just guy problems. Just that guy she's been smitten with for almost twenty years, since he debuted on the TV and little gay Trey observed it with eager interest.

There is a lot of history there, and Jolie isn't sure if she's glad or sad that none of it is really sexual. Would that kind of tension be better or worse than the fact that she knows she was a different person then? Would it make the fact that she watched him break down and pretty much disappear feel any better? Probably not. It doesn't seem to have changed anything, anyway. She still feels butterflies in her stomach thinking about him, but he still pisses her off. It's like butterflies breathing fire and it's fucking frustrating. She was over this, she was so over this.

She chooses to try look as casual as possible in the suites, even if she's dressed to impress as usual. She's in a long black gown that's hitched up because she's crossed one leg over the other. A heeled foot bobs up and down at an easy pace while she flicks through a magazine. Her posture is tense, even if the position is meant to seem relaxed. Just walk in and say something so stupid that she can justifiably quit and run away forever, jackass.

Sam is feeling... well, relaxed is probably the wrong word because there is no such thing as being relaxed in the Capitol, but at least seeing Jolie again isn't really something that gets him on edge. On the contrary it's probably the best possible way of getting him back into the swing of things, she always was a big part of his life in this place.

If things were different (always such a useless sentiment really) he might have liked her. Actually he sort of does like her but that's all very complicated and he hasn't really worked out how he feels about that now. He's not quite the same person that he was either, there's a lot of rage that he has at long last managed to sort of let go of, or at least transform. He looks at things from another angle these days, but that doesn't make it easy to think of someone like Jolie as... well, a friend.

His outfit is beyond basic, trousers shirt and a jacket, all threadbare and in dull earth tones. Compared to her he looks like he's made of clay or something, she being her usual sparkling self even if he can tell that she's toning things down a little bit today.

He moves with easy confidence as he comes through the door, though since he's not really playing it up for the cameras anymore there's no smile on his face.

"Here I am."

Of course Sam is relaxed. Sam is always relaxed. When he isn't relaxed, there's a problem. Jolie doesn't mind so much, it's a well known fact that her retentive and pissy attitude is for show more than anything. It's just that some days, days like this, days where she hasn't seen him for four years it tends to GRATE on her just a LITTLE, FUCKING BIT. It hurts to think that he might resent her a little for how everything went down before he left, but it would hurt more to think he didn't care at all.

When he enters the room, she doesn't raise her face from the hand it's propped against. She deigns him worth a glance up from her magazine, white-blue lenses adding to the piercing look she gives him before she casts her eyes back down to the magazine as if reading this article on galaxy print is crucial. Look, you aren't the only one who can pretend to be apathetic!

"Here you are." Finally, she snaps the magazine shut and slides it to the side almost aggressively before she crooks a pointed nail at him to beckon him closer. She won't leave her chair, she has the power here. Not getting up for him, making him come to her. She is winning the awkward reuniting thing, but maybe she's trying too hard.

"You smell the way you look." She adds, forcing a smile because the lack of his makes her uncomfortable.

"Unspeakably attractive?"

He does smile a little then, as he puts his hands in the pockets of his trousers and ambles slowly toward her. He has no idea how to talk to Jolie if they aren't teasing or arguing, so he'll just go ahead and do that.

If she feels like she needs to be in control, he doesn't particularly mind letting her call the shots really. At least not as long as all she's doing is making him walk a little whilst saying nasty things about his looks (and how he smells).

"You wanna tell me what that's supposed to smell like? Cuz I don't think it's what I'm getting here."

Her smile eases into something a little more natural when he ambles over. It's nice, makes her feel like she's in command and not utterly thrown by all of this.

She pushes herself out of her seat and stands in front of him, glad for the heels giving her extra height here. She's hesitating for a moment before doing what she does best and reaching out to fuss with the front of his coat. "It's amazing that you live in the fabric district and all your shit still manages to look like it's falling apart at the seams."

She clicks her tongue, looking irate before caving and moving to wind her arms around him so she can bury in for a hug. Just one hug, then they can go back to arguing. It's been a hard month, alright?

"Can't be that bad since you're so..."

His quip is cut off by the fact that she's not just standing close, she's actually hugging him. Have they ever hugged before? Right this moment he can't even remember but in any case he sure wasn't expecting it.

Well, damn, if she's willing to be this vulnerable around him some serious shit must have been going down. He's not going to give her a hard time about it because while she has a particular gift for bringing out everything in him that is bristly and confrontational, he's still not actually an asshole no matter how much Jolie might call him that.

So he wraps his arms around her and holds her close, because hey if she needs it, she needs it.

"Rough times?"

All traces of teasing or sarcasm are gone from his voice now, all that's left is kindness.

Well, you've done it now, Jolie. You're rendered the guy momentarily speechless. Props to you, right? She feels pretty silly just moving in for it, but she also can't care too much. She's missed him so much, and she could really use the back up right now. A few other mentors have come and gone, but none of them do as much good for her as Samuel managed to. Even if they're jokingly at each others throats all the time, it's oddly cathartic.

So she doesn't feel too stupid with her head propped on his shoulder as best it can be. She just tries to squash down the fact that he is a. attractive and b. he actually does smell pretty good. It's better if she just focuses on the feeling of relief.

"Oh, you know. The usual." She says tiredly, idly rubbing a hand on his back. "Murders, executions, unruly tributes from worlds we know fuck all about." She shrugs against him before pulling back, trying to meet his eyes. "They must be paying you big time if you're back." She says it conversationally, but she wonders deep down if he really had a choice. Then it hurts again, feeling relieved to have him when he'd probably give anything not to be here.

At least she cares. He couldn't stand her if she didn't, though it's still something of a surprise to actually hear her talking this way about it all.

He looks down at her, arms still loosely wrapped around her.

"I was given an offer that was... too good to pass up."

Which is his careful way of confirming her suspicion that he isn't really here by choice.

"So, what's our lineup at the moment?"

Since these days they're flooding the damn arenas with an unreasonable amount of tributes. As if it wasn't bad enough when it was two per district.

She cares even more than she's letting on, but it's dangerous to admit anything is wrong at all. The sparse details are open to interpretation, she could either be sympathetic or judgmental of what the tributes have wrought.

When he confirms her suspicions, it's a little hard not to let on a little more. She purses her lips briefly, looking momentarily concerned before forcing sarcasm. "They better not be paying you more than me." She huffs out a laugh, gladly latching onto a topic she knows well.

"A forty year old blonde woman who fights with needles, an old man survivalist with an attitude, a massive, blond hunk of wall with a grump face, A.. weird alien looking thing." She scrunches her face before continuing. "A little professor, some sword wielding weirdo and two new ones arrived this Arena. A very blond and very confused girl and some guy with amazing arms who looks perpetually annoyed." That was a very, very long story.

Edited 2014-12-30 15:04 (UTC)

"So no children?"

It is very, very difficult to not just let his entire body sag with relief.

Jolie takes a deep breath when he asks his question, understanding why it's his priority even if she's a little annoyed that he's not addressing all this important shit.

"Just the blonde girl. She's about sixteen." She pauses, letting him react as he will. "Looks like she knows a thing or two about surviving, though." But Jolie wouldn't know anything about that, so. "They're all pretty." That's what matters.

"Sixteen."

About the same age as Linus (his nephew). Well, that's a bit of a gut punch but he'd been expecting it.

"Well, you know I defer to you in the pretty department."

He doesn't care about what people look like, and he hates how much it matters around here.

"Did you say that one chick fights with needles?"

All Jolie can do in response to that is nod, it's a discussion she doesn't know how to have and one they couldn't have even if she wanted to. Since they're still half in a hug, she puts her hand on his upper arm and squeezes comfortingly. Her expression, however, remains seemingly disinterested in his concern.

"And that's why you're going to come into my workroom and take your clothes off." She says matter-of-factly, shameless because she's being crude on purpose. "You got buffer, I need to measure you again." She says that like she has his old ones saved somewhere, but she fails to elaborate on that. She squirms away from his arms, just so she can grab his wrist and tug him toward the sewing room.

"She's a woman after my own heart." She says airily. "Have you been watching the Arena? Shit lights up when they let them use their powers. And the setting? It's gorgeous. You kinda forget the fact that you can't see stars for all the shit in the sky here." She's just letting herself babble now, it alleviates the awkwardness.

"I wondered how long it'd take you to try to get me naked."

Back to banter it is. Perhaps it's for the best, really. They aren't really in a position to be sharing their deepest, darkest secrets with one another after all.

"Haven't really been watching TV much since I went away."

At least not when he could avoid it.

"What's the setting this time?"

"If I wasn't efficient, I wouldn't be in charge." Jolie was far from head stylist when she and Samuel first began to work together, but that had changed quite quickly.

She's pretty reluctant to let go of his arm, even when she leads him in properly, she's just a little bit possessive now that she has him back.

"Space!" She exclaims with an excited grin, turning away from him to whip the tape measure out of a nearby drawer. God, why was she so excited to do this again? She's measured people a thousand times, there's nothing weird about it.

But here she is, hesitating. "Did you get taller?" Totally casual, this one.

"Don't think so, no."

Said as he shrugs his jacket off and then unbuttons his shirt enough that he can just pull it off over his head. There's been a few additions to his tattoos here and there, and quite a lot of them got touched up very recently. When he gets stressed, he lays himself under the needle, and one could say that getting sent back to the Capitol is just a little bit stressful.

"Maybe it's a confidence thing." She retorts, and it's not because she thinks a confidence boost is understandable when he takes his shirt off. Nice. Very nice. Stop fucking looking.

At least the ink markings give her a reason to stare idly at his bare chest before she snaps out of it and steps forward with the tape measure. She snaps it out to straighten it, holding it up against his chest to get the numbers here.

"You look like a mural." She murmurs, pretending to focus on the numbers even if she's already committed them to memory.

"Wanna know which ones you caused?"

It's a quiet murmur, almost soft, or at least as soft as his voice ever gets.

The way he murmurs that is soft enough to make Jolie want to shiver, but she refrains. She sucks in a sudden breath instead, almost betraying enough to be a gasp that she covers under the zip of her tape measure as she steps back from him.

"Sure, I'll indulge you." She quirks a brow in challenge, but she's sincerely curious.

"One on my foot, because you're always walking all over everyone."

At least that's what he'd thought at the time. He had a less nuanced view of Jolie back then. In some ways a lot less complicated one.

He smiles a little at her, his expression a curious mix of teasing and sheepish.

"One on my butt because you're such a pain in the ass. I was drunk, it seemed funny."

It had been less funny when he woke up, but he'd never thought he would be telling her about it so he figured he could just let the whole thing slip into the concealing mists of history.

He taps the middle of his chest, indicating a small section of intricate knotwork.

"And this one."

No motive or explanation offered for that one.

As Samuel walks her through it, Jolie begins by rolling her eyes. Somehow, she doesn't doubt for a second that he'd designate her a foot tattoo. It's as endearing as it is annoying, just like him. It's like a small but permanent reminder of something she never will and never wants to forget, because if she just erased all of her fuck ups she wouldn't truly be herself.

The butt one, however, she seems skeptical over. It earns him a snort anyway and she rolls her eyes, happy to shift her attention as his story moves to the tattoo on his chest. She can't help leaning in to get a better look at it, sincerely curious about the lack of explanation.

"This better not be a pun." She says in a low voice, unable to contain her surprise and skepticism. "What's it meant to mean?" Her tone is expectant, as if demanding an explanation for that prime chest placement.

"That I'm always keeping you close to my heart, of course."

Said with a crooked grin, as if he's joking. He doesn't feel like getting into the events that led him to get that tattoo really, even though he'd decided to let her know about it. It's not really part of a happy chapter of his life, and these days he's not even sure if he knows what it means anymore in any case.

"Oh really?" She sounds entirely unconvinced and it shows, particularly in the way she places both hands on her hips and stares hard up at him. Fear that look, Samuel, let it penetrate your soul.

"If I'm so close to your heart, why'd you just up and leave forever then?" She lazily throws a hand up in the air so it seems a little more like she's exaggerating, because she's already regretting asking a question like that. It was tactless and rude and kind of embarrassing. She still wants to hear the answer, though, so it's almost worth it.

He doesn't really fear much of anything except things that might threaten the safety of his family, but it is a pretty good look, he'll give Jolie that.

Her question takes him by surprise, because much as she tries to make it seem trivial it does seem like it actually mattered to her that he disappeared. He... sort of hadn't expected that.

"Because I went crazy when Zach died and if I hadn't left... you know what would've happened."

He would have gotten himself killed. He'd always been dancing a little on that edge as it was.

The regret is pretty well etched on Jolie's face and she shrinks back just a little. She's much less an imposing figure and much more sheepish now. She clasps her hands in front of her, mouth forming a tight line for a moment.

"I didn't mean it like that." She almost breathes that out, keeping her voice soft. "I know why you left. I didn't know why you stayed away." She gives her shoulders a little shrug, feeling far too vulnerable about saying this much when their dynamic was never this.. cozy. But he never admitted to having tattoos dedicated to her, so she supposes it's tit for tat in a sense.

"Would you have come back?"

What had there been for him here? At least back in the district he had his sister and his nephew. He had something vaguely similar to a life, much as he was not particularly fit to live it.

"I found a sliver of peace, I forgave myself... staying away seemed like the best option."

"No." Her answer comes quickly, firmly even. It seems a little too quick, a little too ready to disparage the Capitol, so she back tracks with an uncertain hum. "Maybe, I don't know." She shrugs again, falling back on the action to seem noncommittal.

"So why did you come back, then?" She knows the answer won't be you, hell. She knows he probably can't even answer. It doesn't mean the romantic in her can't imagine a possibility of him sweeping her off her feet in this very moment.

God, she's stupid.

"Because I was asked to."

He's pretty sure that she understands what he means by that. The Capitol never really asks, it just gives orders with varying degrees of pretty costumes on them.

Tony was already at the bar when the man sat down and recorded his message. It was becoming a regular pattern that left to his own devices that Tony would end up in some form of bar in the Capitol. A pattern made obvious when most of the Avengers were still in the arena or taking their time dealing with their most recent deaths.

If Tony wasn't already universally known as a drunk he'd probably feel a little sad about his habits. But that would also imply he knows how to feel guilt or shame.

He takes a long drink from a martini before deciding to talk to the 'new arrival'.

"How does one 'used' to be a mentor? I got the impression it was a 'till the death' gig."

He sounds and looks mostly bored, but the guy has made himself just enough interesting for Tony to pay him some attention.

Sam seems about as casual as Tony when he replies, though with an undertone of grief that he doesn't try to conceal.

"The Capitol was kind enough to let me take a leave of absence when my nephew was killed in the arena."

That is his very careful and diplomatic way of saying that he had to go away and it was more convenient to just send him home than killing him would be.

Can't go turning people into martyrs now, can we?

Better to just dump him and all his trauma in his family's lap and have them deal with it. It is now a nice little addition to Sam's long list of things he feels guilty about. The strain he put on the people he loved when they were all falling apart too.

Tony's head tilts when Sam admits that the Capitol let him go somewhat AWOL after a death of someone close to him.

"Well. That's very, uh. Sweet of them."

In his voice it was clear that Tony didn't at all expect even an 8th of that much compassion. He took a drink as he pulled over some bar pretzels and picks through them for a moment, it's in that moment that he feels something very familiar about the situation. Like someone had told him about a mentor that left because of a death in the family. He narrows his eyes at the snack food, then he realises where he heard it.

"So, District 8 mentor, huh? So that would mean it's Jolie's job to keep you fashionable. I don't know if I should offer commiserations or not."

Sam let out a raspy chuckle.

"If you've met her, you know I deserve your pity."

The comment was very sincere, but at the same time there was something a little off about the way he said it. There was a warmth there that did not quite fit right with what one might think his feelings about the stylist ought to be.

One might almost think he was fond of her.

"The only thing I pity is the fabric that upsets her."

He smirks, the comment showing he as certainly had some of his own dealings with her. Samuel's affection wasn't lost on Tony either.

"Personally, she gets on my nerves."

It was true, but then again it's not all that hard to get on Tony's nerves when you keep showing up when he's trying to have a brooding moment or in general wanted to be left alone but wasn't.

"Yeah, she does that. Pretty sure she can't help herself."

Sam knew from personal experience how little respect she had for brooding. It had been a very common state for him back in the day, and she had just walked all over his sour and introspective moods as if they didn't exist.

"To be honest, if she keeps being on my nerves this much I'm thinking of hiring her on as my PA." He takes a slow drink. "I mean, I promoted my last one to C.E.O and never got a new one, and well before I promoted her she got on my nerves a lot too."

Well, Pepper got on Tony's nerves in a wholly different way, but considering he was testing out Samuel, knowing who he is to Jolie, Tony just can't help himself. Especially since he and Jolie seem to have adopted each other.

"Well, if you want someone to run your life she's probably just the right queen for the job."

Jolie sure does like to fuss over people and tell them what they should do, and above all how they should look while doing it.

"Probably why she's always been so frustrated with me. I tend to object a lot to her opinions."

Gary strides into the commons with a purpose in his bouncing step. There are many things that will get the teen to drop everything he's doing and switch course, but there's still a certain level of priority he assigns to each. On top of the list are party invitations. Close seconds are personal requests for company. Gary considers the message he just saw over the network one of the latter, and as requested, he has arrived.

The young bottle-blonde swings himself easily onto the bar stool next to the face he recognizes from the invitation, spins around to face him with his head propped on one hand. He stares for a moment.

"Hey." Surely that will get Samuel's attention. Gary assumes that it will and continues onwards. "What's your favorite color?"

Sam's attention has indeed been grabbed. He turns a little towards Gary, indicating that he is not opposed to the idea of conversation, and he seems to give the question he was asked some serious consideration before he answers.

"Blue, I think. How about you?"

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[open] There's no place like this shithole

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