[OPEN] ain't no party like a D̴̡̀R̶̵̶A̷̵̡̛͜G̷͟ ̀҉̸̀͢Q͝҉͟͏U҉͘͟͜͡Ȩ͜҉͞E̷͢Ņ ̷̷̕Ṕ̷̧̛͞A̷͟R̸̛̕Ţ̀́Y̵̴

[fuckingcool]

Who| Oceana Gunn and all you party people
What| Oceana's throwing the craziest party of the year to celebrate the end of the Arena, and you're invited. Feel free to mingle, post open starters, and tag around to your heart's content!
Where| Her bachelor(ette) pad in the Capitol
When| Post-Arena, pre-Crowning
Warnings/Notes| Uhhh. Drugs, alcohol, sex, language, etc are all possibilities within!



It's high time that someone threw a really great party in this town.

Oceana's been laying low, working on costumes for the upcoming Crowning and watching her babies kick ass in the Arena, but after a while she gets an itch. An itch to invite hundreds of strangers to her penthouse apartment, dress up in her most sickening clothes, and let the booze pour. So that's exactly what she does. Invitations are sent out, crates of liquor are ordered, food is catered in, and the lights are dimmed way down low.

Her apartment is spacious, minimally decorated because it looks fucking cool and she's barely around anyway, and full of dark corners. The living room has a huge table full of finger foods along one wall, a champagne fountain, and a full bar with virtually endless liquor. The music is loud as hell, and the drag queen has even gone to the trouble of paying people to come early and dance, so that the dance floor is never empty.

The hostess herself will be mingling all evening; the glass of vodka in her hand is never empty, and always garnished with at least six olives. She may not be the classiest bitch in the capitol, but it's apparent by looking around that she knows how to throw a killer soirée.

Comments

[capitolprivilege]

"Not yet, thank god," says Stephen, rolling his eyes but not laughing. "I think he's getting better. It's hard to tell behind that toothy grin. But for a while there, it was pretty rough.

"Do you have any problem children?" Stephen asks, turning the conversation to Jason and taking another drink.

[whatisay]

"I'd say I was surprised but what I say is you can't trust these off-worlders. Their cultures aren't like ours. They've got backwards ideas about things like table manners." Jason keeps smirking to himself, keeps veiled laughter in his mouth.

"Dorian Pavus, but he's your run of the mill problem child. If I didn't think he was going to get brought back, I'd just let him get killed at Cornucopia or die of exposure for all the backtalk I get from him."

[capitolprivilege]

Stephen keeps that drink up by his face, as though to smother laughter. He closes his eyes, raises his eyebrows, and good as says well, what can you do?

"So it's just standard unhappiness about the whole situation?"

[whatisay]

"Just them being ingrates. I'm sure you deal with the same problems." He tips his glass at Stephen. "I've heard Molotov is angry she doesn't have a private bathroom. Remember when we used to get District kids and they would be thrilled to have running water?"

It was almost charming or quaint, the way the old Tributes responded to the glory of the Capitol. It makes coming back to this job and being treated as if he, personally, kidnapped each of them a little hard to swallow.

"It's been good to see you, Stephen. I was wondering if you were going to show your face after the incident." He holds his wrist up and jangles an invisible cuff.

[perfectus]

That was actually funny. Cal waits the requisite moment before laughing loudly, all stupid grin and perfectly gleaming white teeth. The pause is short enough that it might seem like he didn't catch the implication at first. It's carefully affected so as to minimize any intelligence he might be seen to have.

"Good one!" he croons approvingly, once the horse guffaws have subsided. The champagne has sloshed around over the rim of his glass, and Cal licks at his knuckles as he recovers. The taste is bitter and now he knows he'll smell like the damn stuff. It's annoying, but also probably not terrible for solidifying an image.

"I try to be positive about it-- I mean, what I have to work with now. But I guess there's always room for culling the herd, too." There's nothing sinister at all about Calendius' tone in spite of the implication. It's perfectly matter of fact. Not everyone can be a winner, that's just how it is.

[sergius]

Ironic or not, Sergius can't help but laugh. Instantly, his mood seems to lighten. "You look fucking great for being so fresh on land, girl. I swear, you navigate through awkward human interactions like a fucking pro. I couldn't organize a fete like this and I've lived on land my whole damn life."

[capitolprivilege]

The smile on Stephen's face doesn't lose its friendliness. He picks up on the passive-aggressive undertones; he just doesn't respond to them. "Well, you know how important it is to get back on the horse," he says, swirling his drink. "I learned an important lesson, and I hope I'm a wiser person for it."

[whatisay]

Passive-aggressive? Jason? You must be joking. And then Stephen goes and flings it right back at him.

"Good. You know if I'd gotten caught doing anything like that, I'd have gotten myself exiled. You're lucky you're a Reagan." Once upon a time, the Compsons had that immunity, those second chances that allowed them to heal from their social shortcomings without scar tissue. It's a cautionary tale to Stephen, a reminder that his family's privileged status isn't sacrosanct.

[capitolprivilege]

He does. Stephen almost does it out of habit -- he doesn't mean to be cruel, not exactly, he's just been taught that this is how you respond when you don't like what someone has said in polite company.

"Oh, I know, and I'm grateful for it," Stephen replies. Maybe it's the buzz of the alcohol behind his eyes that makes him go on: "Actually, that's something I think we could all stand to remember a little more. Not that I'm a Reagan," he clarifies, breaking into a laugh, because wow, that sounded terrible, "no, just -- how very lucky we are to be in the positions we're in, and how much worse it could be for us."

[reallynow]

It could probably be considered some form of betrayal to do work for the other teams, but Jolie has established a habit of freelancing through the tower. It does give her jollies having people on other teams wearing her particular style, even if it doesn't always have Jolie emblazoned in diamante across the back of it. In a subtle way, it evens out the playing field and in a less subtle way it's sort of like staking a claim in everything worth her attention.

Liking him personally has very little to do with it in the long run.

Her hands twitch out of a desire to start making adjustments on the spot, but she refrains and laughs politely. That's a hot bed of issues she won't share an opinion on, so she moves along with the conversation when he asks a question.

"I think I'm getting a sixth sense for measurement at this rate, I've had to clock that many body types in the past two years." Definitely more range than various skinny kids. "If you don't mind me personally getting handsy with you, I'm in my workroom most of the nine to five. If not, you can endure my assistant clicking her tongue at you."

[reallynow]

"At least you can get yours to sit down for that shit. My babies are great, don't get me wrong, but the hair. The hair, bitch. I want to see their pretty faces, but they're all so goddamn attached to their ugly fuzz." She casts a suspicious glance toward Oceana. "Do you drug them or something? Slip it in their tea? Or do you just warm them up with cocktails? You can be honest, I'm your mother."

[whatisay]

"Right. Lucky." Something deep inside Jason strains at its chains there, the part where his head always hurts, where the budget's never enough, where his mother's always dipping it to try and put on airs they can't afford and they spent more money on flowers for Quentin's funeral than they ever did on Jason's future, where whenever he goes home it's to the sound of his brother's screaming and weeping - but to flood the conversation with that wouldn't be appropriate. There's a difference between congenial complaining and an outright pity party.

He's not about to do the latter in front of a Reagan, even if it isn't Cyrus.

So there's something knifelike about his next smile, something that Stephen may remember from decades ago when Jason was teenager enough to lord his age over Cyrus and Stephen both.

"But that's a limiting way to look at it, isn't it? No wonder they say you don't have ambition. With your pedigree you could be a Gamemaker if you tried, instead of just shuttling fresh meat around."

[fuckingcool]

Yasssss. Yaaaaaasss she is so good at cheering people up. Watch out, Holly, your girlfriend is coming for your title. She laughs. "Thanks, baby. It was easy once I grew out of my gills and everything. Walking--that's a whole different Arena. Everyone thinks it's my eight-inch heels, though, so I let them stay uninformed."

[fuckingcool]

Oceana just cackles. "You poor thing." Her shoulders shift playfully. "But no, it does not involve roofies in any way, shape, or form."

The queen extends one long, smooth leg out in front of them. "All it takes is a little leg, a little ass, a little fake titty, and I can get those fuckers to do anything. Intimidation by sexuality. That shit's my jam."

[whatisay]

His eyes dart down to the sloshing glass. "Careful. Wouldn't want to ruin your clothes." It's not something the average Citizen would worry about and yet it occurs to Jason, and immediately he regrets saying it. He might as well be showing up in a barrel for all the skill he's having hiding his financial status. He's out of practice, having become a borderline recluse during his too-short retirement, his truncated idleness.

"Must be quite the blow for you, switching from the Careers to the same rabble as the rest of us have to manage. You'd think they'd even sort the good ones into One and Two, but it's so random as to look calculated, if you know what I mean."

[reallynow]

If Jolie looked incredulous before, it's nothing compared to her expression right now. Her face goes flat, brows lowered as she gives Oceana a deadpan look. It's one of those faces where she doesn't even need to say anything to express how she feels about that.

"How's Bastien, anyway?" She asks, seemingly out of the blue. Where she picked up that thought from the context is known only to her and it totally has nothing to do with the fact that Oceana is Oceana.

[fuckingcool]

Oceana, for her part, just smiles back blandly. She's used to looks like that from Jolie. Besides, it's not like the bitch can talk. Oceana's not the one fucking around with Tributes, okay?

"Bastien? He's Bastien. He's cute as hell, optimistic to a fault...he's been quiet lately, but I think he's on an upswing." Oceana squishes her own cheeks, clearly still incredibly taken by her ladyboyfriend. "I think him and me getting back together has been really good for both of us, y'know?"

[whatisay]

Jason shrugs. "What I say is it's better than occasionally parading one out and blowing his brains out on live television. You keep them afraid of authority and they don't act up so bad they need an execution."

As far as he's concerned, it's the leeway all the Escorts are giving the Tributes that's leading to all this dissidence. It's better off for everyone if the brood of champions knows their place.

[whatisay]

"Well, god knows I'm at the Tribute Center often enough these days. The way my mother goes on about it, you'd think I'd moved out." Not that he can or would; at this point it almost feels like a battle of wills, him unwilling to yield and leave the land he grew up on just to get away from the feeling of being constantly suffocated on a motherly love that's actually poison.

"I'll drop by at maybe noon this Tuesday, if that isn't when you take your lunch break. Usually I have the Tributes out of my hands and into either the gym or Stig's workroom by that hour." He glances over Jolie's shoulder at Calendius Rey, flashing that smile at some other partygoer. "I know I'm not going to be making bodybuilders out of any of them, but it would help if they could all run a lap around the building without collapsing."

[OOC: would you actually be up to threading something like that out, especially after the Caroline texts heat up?]

[reallynow]

Jolie holds no judgement for being a promiscuous tart, she only holds doubt in her heart for Oceana's ability to sexually intimidate anyone. Maybe the sixteen year old, if she's lucky, but he is related to Bro Strider and that guy is something else.

Part of Jolie is just using Bastien as a subject change, but for the most part she's sincerely curious. Ever since the blackout, he hasn't really been as chirpy or eager to be around her. She understands why, but it still hurts a little, and it sucks that she couldn't be there for her when she needed her because she was busy being distracted by Steve Rogers of all things.

"You don't need to tell me twice. Girl took a tail spin for a second there." She reaches over to give Oceana's hand a squeeze, followed by a sincere smile. "I'm glad you're both sorting your shit out. It's fucking cute." Cute enough to make her a little jealous.

[reallynow]

"I've pretty much taken up residence in the suites, to be honest. Cheaper than paying a damn light bill for the few hours I'd be there." She gives her shoulders a shrug. "But the only people I have to bitch at me are my plants, and I murdered them long ago." Her smirk is a little more subdued, as if she isn't sure whether to feel bad for not having people out of the tower waiting up for her or be glad for it.

"It's pre-crowning, honey. I don't take lunch breaks, I get micro sleeps in between gluing diamante to everything." But then she waves dismissively. "Come whenever, I'll love the distraction. Just don't expect anything done before the shindig, I gotta prioritise my clowns." She casts a glance over her shoulder at his line of vision, scoffing and shaking her head. "I'd be thankful for mine doing their own work outs if they didn't stink like old rags." She crinkles her nose. "Don't ever come early morning, you'll regret it. Lunch is just fine."

[ooc: I'd love to!! How pissed is he gonna be?]

[fuckingcool]

Oceana heaves a little sigh. "Don't I know it." But she squeezes Jolie's hand back, giving her probably the most genuine smile she's cracked all night.

"Thanks, ma. Hope you'll walk me down the aisle at our wedding, girl." She's joking. Mostly. Okay, she's kind of serious. It's been running through her mind more than a little lately, especially with shit getting sort of...serious. And if a wedding ever were to happen, well, who better to escort the blushing bride down the aisle than her favorite person on Earth?

[fuckingcool]

The queen flinches visibly at that. "Yeah, that was a little fucking excessive," she says, scathingly. "But to each their own, I guess. I'd rather do some sweet-talking than anybody get hurt, honestly."

Damn, Jason. You're intense. Real damn intense.

[reallynow]

There's a very brief and bitter thought in the back of Jolie's mind as to whether she'd get an invite at this rate, but she keeps her personal drama to herself in lieu of feeling happy for Oceana. It warms her heart to see her this happy over anything that isn't olives and partying, at least something isn't crap on crap.

"Only if I get to make the dress. Nothing latex, nothing above the knee." She gives her a mock warning look, but a smile pulls at her lips. "Is it that serious? You aren't pregnant, are you?" She narrows her eyes, glancing downward.

[whatisay]

Jason laughs at the plant comment, and despite the tone of envy, it's possibly the most honest sound he's made all evening.

"I forget that Stylists work on a different schedule than Escorts. We don't have the rush before the Crowning, but we have to work around the clock during the Arena itself. You never know when one of our charges is going to get themselves near-killed at three in the morning." He gives her a polite nod. "I'll be seeing you soon, then. Enjoy the party."

And with that, he's off to try his limited charm on someone else.

[OOC: Capital-V Very.]