Maybe I'm a sinner and not a saint

[milieus]

Who| Jennifer Blackwood & You.
What| Open log to chat with the Tribute Comfort & Care Administrator
Where| Jennifer's office in the Tribute Center
When| Anytime this month. Feel free to specify as needed.
Warnings/Notes| N/A

With the new influx of Tributes, Jennifer has had her work cut out for her. There are so many files to memorize, so many new faces to welcome to the Capitol. It's time consuming, but she finds purpose in it, and playing welcoming committee chair is something she's rather good at. The task of putting a friendly, human face to the Capitol is difficult, but she's somehow thriving. Of course, it doesn't hurt to have so many wonderful stylists and escorts on her side for this.

And happily, she's found some recent success in terms of Tribute requests. By all accounts, Feferi's salt water shampoo campaign is a real hit, and Buddy Glass has reported his satisfaction with Junior Peacekeeper Terezi's role as a media assistant, and Justine Florbelle was apparently pleased with her medical intern, Joly. And Jennifer had just received the happy news that Albert and Jet would be allowed a special suite to share, one which would unite the second and third floors. Construction would soon be underway, and Jennifer was pleased to share the news with them. Little things like that mattered in the end. Happy Tributes meant happy viewers at home, and happy viewers meant a happy President. And that was the bottom line, wasn't it?

In spite of the work she had before her, Jennifer purposely kept open office hours to allow Tributes, mentors, and employees of the Tribute Center to visit her to petition for various requests. Everyone was welcome to see her, but Jennifer was cautious after the incident with Eponine and found she was more likely to call for Peacekeeper back up than ever before. The moment a situation seemed like it would get out of hand, she would press one of several alarms hidden around her office and alert the authorities that she was in distress. These alarms were a new addition to her office, but a necessary one. She wasn't going to risk being attacked by a Tribute again.

Comments

[molotov]

When Molotov strides in, it is with her usual saunter and a cloud of cigarette smoke. She is, however, dressed nicely, appropriately for a meeting (or as close as she gets) -- a subtly sparkling and incredibly tiny dress in burgundy, lined with fox fur at the neckline and cuffs. There is a matching fur pouf on the toe of each sky-high stiletto she wears.

She doesn't bother to announce herself, although she does put her cigarette out before entering, gently tossing the butt in a wastebasket. Taking a seat in front of Jennifer's desk, she crosses her legs at the knee and rests her hands in her lap.

"Ms. Blackwood."

[milieus]

"Ms. Cocktease." Jennifer is a little surprised to see the woman before her, seeing as Molotov projects an air of self-reliance that generally would prevent her from really needing Jennifer's services. That said, Molotov was not at all unwelcome. If anything, Jennifer is pleased to meet a Tribute of such high caliber, one willing to work within the system and find some measure of success. "To what to I owe the pleasure?"

[whatisay]

Jason's aware that without Jennifer, he wouldn't have a job. Even if her contribution to his hiring were minimal, at some point papers had to pass her desk for him to get on payroll. A nicer person might have made it a point to visit her and thank her, to maybe try to stir up that they were once acquaintances long ago, in their youth. Never close - he can't remember if he ever said two words to the girl more than five years his minor - but familiar, like trees off in the distance. Maybe they could reminisce about parties they were too young to appreciate, about trying to fit weedy pre-teens and toddlers around kids' tables in the nanny's quarters, about pretending to like their parents' friends whose names they couldn't keep straight and about smuggling candies in the hems of their junior's suits.

But there's no point opening up an old wound, and Jason's not that nicer person, and when he shows up to her open hours it's strictly for business. He clicks off the eucalyptus cigarette and takes a caffeine pill before stepping into her office. He still smells vaguely of the medicinal plant. It's a vice, but not one he'll call that.

"Jennifer." He takes a seat in one of the chairs, feet flexing in his shoes listlessly. He should probably address her by her last name, but there's a level of servility there that Jason rankles at assuming. He doesn't look comfortable in his suit, and it has nothing to do with the clothing; he's worn dress clothes since he was a child. It's all to do with the humiliation of having to come back to this job, over a decade after he quit the first time, and though he sits upright he imagines that he's crawling to her on his belly like some half-dead dog. "I'm guessing you have a moment, what with the open door?"

[milieus]

Jennifer recalls more about Jason than he likely does of her. The son of a family friend, old enough to have made an impression, especially since he'd gone into her chosen field just a few years before she had, only to leave it as she came into prominence. In some ways, she was a replacement goldfish, the new Capitol darling come to take his place. It wasn't malicious, of course. He'd never been a consideration in her pursuit of escort glory, but it had been noteworthy to her, anyway.

She smiles benignly though, and sets aside the memories of their strangely shadowed past to attend to their present business. She looks up from her reading, hands folding on the desk. "Of course, Jason. It's pleasant to see you, by the way. I do hope District Seven is working out for you. With Stig making the transition into styling full time, they were in dire need of an experienced escort. It was so lucky that you were available."

[voiceinthephone]

An open door made Phil wary at first but it was a welcome change. Trying to avoid any stray Peacekeepers' stares or unwanted attention was proving difficult, and maybe this lady could help. Plus, what the hell was up with all these Versaces on acid? Not to say he had a problem with the drag queens but he figured some of the accessories were eye hazards!

He was avoiding the issue as he knocked on the door frame, "Hello? Hello ma'am? May I come in? I-I'm having some issues with, um, adjusting to this whole, um, Tribute."

[milieus]

Jennifer looked up from her reading, tilting her head to better see the visitor at the door, meeting the unfamiliar face with a pleasant, sanitized. No, wait. He was familiar. She'd just read his file. Phillip... something.

"Yes, please come in. It's Mister Gray, isn't it? Phillip Gray? Did I get that right?" She rose from her seat to properly greet and welcome him into the office. "Please make yourself comfortable. Could I get you some tea or coffee perhaps?"

[alwaysshielded]

An ambassador to the tributes was the description Cassandra had more or less pieced together of the woman. She had little interaction with most natives here, the servants too silent and the general population too...enthusiastic to be of use. But in this case she made a direct line to the 'open hours' available. The seeker did not knock, did not take a seat before the desk. Rather she simple stood, one hand resting on the hip she sword should have been at, and scowled down at the woman.

"What is the point of my conscription?"

[milieus]

This sort of reaction wasn't unheard of, but in recent months Jennifer had become accustomed to less confrontational interactions. Seeing that Cassandra was clearly disgruntled set her on high alert, just in case things spiraled out of control and there was a repeat of Eponine's attack again.

"You're a Tribute, Ms. Pentaghast. Has no one explained what that means yet? No one at all?" She was mildly disappointed, but it was to be expected. District Three was in shambles lately. She'd make a note to rectify the situation as soon as she could.

[futilecycle]

While the old man preferred a reclusive life in his room, Sigma was not oblivious to what had happened between Jennifer and Eponine - it was not the first time Eponine had threatened a high-ranking Capitol official. In the darkest part of his heart, Sigma wondered if jailing her might teach her a much-needed lesson - but he crushes these thoughts beneath reason. Eponine was still a child. She did not deserve prison for all of her immaturity.

In spite of this, when Sigma enters Jennifer's office, he does not appear to bear any ill will. He is, in fact, perfectly calm, and offers the woman a kind smile as he crosses into her office. It was no secret, not since advertisements that exploited their relationship began running, that Sigma considered Eponine his daughter. It would, perhaps, remain an elephant in the room for the duration of the conversation.

"Good morning, Miss Blackwood," he begins. "I do not believe we have met in person. I am Sigma Klim, or Zero, of District Ten. I have a couple of matters I would like to speak with you about, if you would permit me..."

[milieus]

If Jennifer felt any level of nervousness at Sigma's appearance, she was doing a decent enough job of masking it. For all intents and purposes, she seemed calm, poised, and pleasant as she greeted her latest visitor.

"Of course, it's lovely to meet you at last. Please make yourself comfortable." She gestured to the available seat across from hers. Barely ten days ago, Eponine had been in that very seat, muzzled and snarling, untamable. "What can I help you with, sir?"

[nineofwands]

He'd thought it would be difficult to find out who he needed to corner around this place. Maybe some spying, maybe some prying, something like that. Instead, it seemed the person he needed was open about being that person and had an open door for him to walk through. It certainly wasn't his normal way of dealing with things.

He didn't bother dressing up or trying to make an impression when he went down, he just scrounged together the most 'normal' thing he could find (in the darkest colors he could find) and made his way down to the office of Jennifer Blackwood.

Cassian stood in the doorway and knocked twice on the door frame, hesitant but careful not to seem unsure or even remotely intimidated. Like as if his question didn't mean anything to him no matter what her answer would be.

[milieus]

"Please come in," came the answer from inside the office, the occupant standing just out of eyesight of the doorway, arranging some sort of floral decoration on one of the side tables. Her back was to the door, and while it was open, she seemed utterly unconcerned with whoever might be waiting to see her. She took her time with her flowers (genetically altered tiger lilies with neon orange petals) then turned to face Cassian, expression open and friendly. "Forgive me. They were in dire need of attention."

[tevintage]

Dorian had made a note to himself, after Jason's threats, to figure out exactly who was above him - who might be able to make a splash on his behalf if things got... well... ugly. He was so furious that he was ready to snap at anything that moved, but a part of him realised that what he needed was an ally here, and surely he must be able to find one in the woman who actively took petitions.

Hopefully he could manage to hold in his anger long enough to make a decent first impression.

He found her open office door and knocked on it, briskly, before stepping inside. "I am to understand that you are Jennifer Blackwood, and are a - ah - liaison, of sorts."

[milieus]

She hadn't yet heard all of the details surrounding Dorian and Jason's interaction, so his slant on things would certainly come as news to her. Rising to welcome her guest, she offered him her hand in greeting. "That's right, I am. And you're Dorian Pavus, correct? A new Tribute for District Seven. What brings you to see me today?"

[somewhatfallenfortune]

They play the Grand Game in the Capitol, even if they don't call it by name--that much has become obvious. Josephine isn't about to waste the opportunities that fact implies, particularly not when the lives of key Inquisition members are at stake. It's time to see what doors she can open in this strange land.

"Greetings," she says, dipping her head slightly, when she's allowed into the room. "Thank you for seeing me, Madame Blackwood."

[milieus]

Josephine's file has provided Jennifer with some interesting reading, especially since she can see glimpses of herself in this woman. A diplomat. A liaison. A mender of broken things. Someone Jennifer could have been in another place and time. In a small way, it is a little heartbreaking, in others, it's exciting to have the chance to speak with her.

"The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Montilyet." She is warm and inviting as she leads Josephine in to the office. "May I offer you something to drink? I have coffee and tea, if you like?"

tw just to be safe: refs to gore, zombie stuff

[burningdaylight]

A tap of knuckles on wood.

“Ms. Blackwood?” It's neutral in tone, coming with a quiet confidence as if they've met before. A smile ghosts his lips after a moment, an afterthought. A small, mirthless thing that doesn’t reach his eyes. But he's surprised that he could will one at all so soon in light of all that has come to pass.

Making a good impression could go a long way.

“My name’s Luke – from District 2? I was wonderin' if you had a minute.” The meeting’s a long time in coming, precipitated by deaths he had failed to prevent – and watching his own corpse stir awake in a puddle of his blood. Watching himself tear mouthfuls out of the alien that had come thrashing out of the gaping, splintery hole in his chest and go for Sam next, mindlessly dragging himself across the floor.

Jane there to help put him down.

His gut twists sickly.

[milieus]

District Two. A place she was quite fond of, having served as their escort before retiring to what was supposed to be a quiet life of home and family, with a husband and a baby and a dog. The mere mention of the place from someone besides Calendius brought back warm, excited feelings of her jetsetting past, dashing across Panem on tours with her young, beautiful victors. What a glorious life that had been, so far removed from her existence in this office tower now.

What a different world this was now, with a worn, if pleasant looking stranger before her, seeking her help.

Her smile was kind, motherly. Saintly, even.

"Luke. Of course. You're welcome here, please do come in and make yourself right at home." The chairs in the office were padded and nicely upholstered. The room smelled of lilies.

Albert -> Jet -> Jennifer?

[silberfuchs]

The message to come to Jennifer's office seems almost more like a courtly summons to Albert and he decides to dress appropriately for the occasion, at least appropriately as his all too delighted stylist deems necessary, but he endures it as he's learned his lesson when it comes to the Capitolites; you have to play the game in front of them or you'll end up remodeled on your wedding night. Or worse.

Luckily what he gets this time isn't too atrocious. It seems he's either frightened his stylist enough after the swastika incident or she's simply phoned it in after District 3's destruction and disgrace, but the suit she gives him to wear fits comfortably and covers all his cybernetic implants save the one under his eye. Not too bad, all things considered. Even so, he keeps fidgeting with the collar and smoothing the front before he and Jet enter, preoccupied with the very real possibility that the price for what he'd asked will be far too high and they won't be allowed to turn down the bargain.

[metalicarus]

The request Albert had made for them was certainly something Jet wanted to see happen, but he also knew the Capitol liked to attach price tags to things and, if this one was too much, he would turn it down for both their sakes.

With that mindset, he wasn't particularly nervous himself. He'd never talked to Jennifer, but Albert had given him his impression and Jet didn't feel particularly intimidated for it. However, he also wasn't so dumb as to think a little placating wasn't in order. Usually, he'd go for the most plain thing his stylist would offer him, but this time he chose something a little brighter. He was in a bright silver number that had accents of red laced through it, a pattern you'd expect to find on a commercial airline, not clothing. It was bad, but it wasn't awful, yet it was just awful enough to fit in.

The door was open, so Jet didn't bother to knock once they'd gotten to the office, but he did linger back a bit, like he'd be ready to leave as soon as they could. "You called us?"

Jan 10th okay?

[smirkwood]

It took a good deal of running around to find out who it was he should speak to about his housing while trying to function on lack of sleep and frayed nerves. So it should come as no surprised that by the time he opens the office door - no knocking, sorry - he's already short tempered.

"Tell me, is it you who is in charge of where we prisoners are housed, or are you just as useless as everyone else I have spoken to?"

thumbs up c:

[milieus]

Jennifer looked up from her paperwork with a quizzical expression on her face. She ought to have expected this, considering the whispers trickling into her office regarding Thraduil's behavior toward his escort.

"I have the power to change your circumstances, if that is what you are asking." Her voice was calm, tone cool. She wasn't about to be spooked by some impotently raging elf.

[rumlow]

Rumlow didn't need a friendly, human face for the Capitol, truth be told. The Capitol wasn't friendly, and wasn't meant to be. It was part of a regime, a system of control. They could dress it up pretty and spin it however they liked, but once you've seen the cogs and gears of one, you've seen them all.

That didn't mean he was any less willing to cooperate. Far from it. Knowing the game and the rules, he'd be absolutely willing to play as needed to make his way. Working within the system cold be a benefit, moreso than anyone's willing to cop to. After talking to Murphy, the option of trading The Games for a spot as a Peacekeeper is sounding more and more his speed, anyway. But to gauge how close he was to nailing a spot there, he'd have to talk to someone on the other side of the glass.

He'd been pointed in the direction of this lovely lady, so it was her he was paying a visit to. And yeah, he'd wait to be buzzed on up, folding his arms across his chest and huffing quietly.

Not a problem at all.

[milieus]

Upon being informed that she had a visitor waiting to see her, Jennifer prepared his file before buzzing Rumow into her office. She waited at the door, ready to welcome him in with a kind, if sanitized smile. When the guards opened the door for him, she approached with a hand extended in greeting.

"Good afternoon, Mister Rumlow. My name is Jennifer Blackwood. Welcome to my office."

Backdated to sometime early in the month? (Sorry for the late tag in)

[pythianjudgment]

Despite the emphasis on manners around the Capitol, Terezi finds herself standing by the open door and leaning into the doorway to sniff out any presence of occupants. Naturally, the door being open would mean that someone was in, but that doesn't mean that she's inclined to take the non-silly option when presented to her. She's also not inclined to visit Capitolites simply to chit-chat... She just happened to be passing by, really.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Blackwood." At least she remembered to address her politely. That has to count for something, right? She grins, stepping fully into the room. "What's up?"

:D

[milieus]

Jennifer looked up, peering at the door at the sound of the sniffing. Such a sound could only indicate a couple of things: either there was a dog on the loose or Terezi was around. Chuckling softly at the sight of the Troll, the woman clapped her hands together in greeting.

"Hello there, Terezi." She smiled, standing up from her desk. "It's just another day here in the office. How are you today? Please, come in."