thecapitol | we're hollow like the bottles that we drink

Who| beth greene and you.
What| the arena's done and she's back from a traumatizing canon update. drinking? drinking.
Where| the tribute center bar.
When| post-arena
Warnings/Notes| mentions of alcohol, natch. more to be added.

All things considered, she's surprised that the Capitol kept her new scars. It didn't seem like they would have, since she can see the billboards spanning the city that promote perfection in every physical aspect - all possible by plastic surgery, they boast. These scars weren't there the last time she was in the city, but they are now. The healed-up versions of them, remnants of Dawn's temper - being pistol-whipped across the face isn't something that just goes away.

Beth doesn't care. She doesn't know what it says about her, if it supposedly tells the world that she's weak and not worth saving like the ones hidden by her sleeves. It doesn't matter, because she's in the Capitol now, and not Grady Memorial. And it's honestly hard to tell which she'd prefer more at this point.

She'd had her first drink only a few weeks ago. Her dad used to be an alcoholic, and she'd never wanted to disappoint him. But he isn't here, and -- well. She has the blood of three men on her hands now, even though she doesn't want to admit it. Beth makes her way down to the bar with the unease of someone who is not used to being there. Chin tipped up, ready to challenge anyone who tells her that she's too young to be here.

They ask her what she wants and she replies with the first thing that pops into her head - the only other alcoholic drink she really knows, other than moonshine.

Peach schnapps.

Doesn't matter that you're not supposed to drink peach schnapps by itself. That's what she does anyway.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It apparently isn't too uncommon for the bars here to give out drinks to suspiciously under-aged individuals, as Gary hasn't run into any obstructions when he passes through and the notion strikes him. Granted, at eighteen years old he probably hits the legal limit here, but as a Tribute he thinks it wouldn't matter either way. It helps to have a certain level of confidence when coming into the exchange--something that Gary's always had, and he flaunts well on this particular visit, striding casually up to the bar and gracefully slinging himself onto one of the stools. He makes a point of sitting close to Beth; the promise of a new drinking companion is what's gotten him to stop, so he ought to make the effort to get to know her.

Besides, now that he's not restricted to the cheap booze his friends could sneak into their basement for parties, Gary's actually done some research for once and compiled a list of interesting-sounding beverages that he wants to try. He's had it wrapped around his credit card ever since he got back from the Arena, several weeks ago. He takes a peek at it now on his way to greet Beth.

"Hard liquor kind of night?" Gary flashes Beth a wide, encouraging smile, as he motions for the bartender to wait while he glances at the slip of paper pulled from his pocket. Just a matter of deciding which one...

The thought of drinking alone is really, really sad. She doesn't really want to know what it says about her state right now, so when someone sidles up next to her with a wide smile and an easy demeanour, there's a part of her that feels almost relieved. Lately, she's been feeling herself slipping down into cynicism and anger, and she knows how hard it is to come back from that.

But Beth is a girl made of easy smiles, no matter what she happens to be feeling at the moment. "Sort of? I'm not sure if this is hard liquor or not. I've never tried it before," she shrugs, though she figures that it can't be stronger than moonshine.

"What about you?"

"Kinda smells like it," Gary says with a slight crinkle of his nose. Truth is, he has no idea what she's drinking, and his methods of deduction don't extend far past 'it's in a small glass and it stinks.' He finds it easier to just pretend that he knows in the hopes that Beth thinks he knows, too.

Not like the list gives it away or anything. "I dunno," Gary shrugs back. "I guess I'll find out."

Since he's only thought to write down the names of drinks instead of what they are (and he probably wouldn't have been able to make up his mind on what he wanted anyways), Gary gives up any proper selection, looks at the ceiling and drops his finger on a random entry. He gives the name a critical stare.

"Um...South Padre Island cocktail." Gary raises his hand for the bartender, thinks for a moment, then holds up two fingers. "Two."

Well, that's one way to figure out what you want to drink. And for some reason, it's kind of amusing. It feels a little juvenile, like they're both kids trying to act way older than they are. Which brings back memories of easier times, of being dumb teenagers doing stupid things. Although her experience had never involved alcohol.

She laughs, though her brow raises at the rest of the order. "You're gonna drink two by yourself? You might wanna pace yourself. At least, that's what people have told me."

Gary laughs back because that seems like the appropriate thing to do here. It's all about fitting in--sitting at the bar because that's where everyone else is, ordering drinks because everyone else is drinking. Being a dumb teenager is what gives him the excuse to follow through and make a scene of it, which he's always happy to do.

"Nah," Gary grins, stuffing the notes back in his pocket so he can lean over the bar, perched casually on one elbow. Some argument could be made for Punchy encouraging him to bolster his tolerance, but that's not what he's going for right now. "I'm sharing the other one with you!" A beat. "I guess I should know who I'm sharing with, though, huh? What's your name?"

Being a dumb teenager is sort of the excuse she's using right now. It might be kind of a reckless thing to do, but she's young and in a pretty significant amount of emotional pain, and that's a pretty rational thought process that leads her here in this moment. "It's Beth. You?"

She watches as the bartender comes back with two bright looking drinks in fancy glasses. "What's in it?"

"Gary." The hand he isn't leaning on comes up in a fist, offering a casual bump of greeting. Things are going well so far; Gary can only hope that they continue to improve and she recognizes the gesture.

But with greetings out of the way, it's on to the main course. "Hell if I know. Booze?" Gary squints at the drinks as they arrive. "Lime wedges? Those are limes, right?"

"Yeah. I guess if you put enough lime in it, it'll taste pretty nice? If that doesn't work, just drink it fast enough that you don't taste a thing," which is obviously a perfectly safe suggestion for a fairly small, inexperienced drinker to be making. Right. Beth pauses for a minute, staring at his hand before she laughs and bumps her fist against his. Before squeezing a bunch of lime juice into her drink, because why not.

"Cheers?"

Gary gives a hearty laugh in return and, deciding that Beth's choice is a good one, also squeezes out his lime in his drink and tosses in the carcass.

"I like how you think," he grins, raising his glass. "Cheers! To good drinks and beautiful company."

we're hollow like the bottles that we drink

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject