[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

[whatisay]

"Like a well-oiled machine, I hear." It's not a compliment that Jason's pulling from the air so much as an accurate report of Jolie's reputation. District Eight has been doing alright for itself in terms of sponsorships and media attention. "You must be proud."

The Avox rushes back with a tall glass of water, a wedge of bright, juicy lemon clamped over the rim like a jaw, and Jason gives nothing more than a cursory nod of gratitude before taking a long and relieving sip.

He shrugs a bit. Until you get to the Career Districts, only something as godawful as Eleven and Twelve, or as notorious as Three, is noteworthy. "Seven is Seven. The pay's just the same as it was in Ten, but adjusted for the times. Less to do with my abilities and more to do with where the opening was when I decided to come back to the field. Although my having a reputation as a bit of a hardass was apparently something of a relief to Jennifer, since the Tributes are getting unruly these days."

[reallynow]

It's not the only thing that's well-oiled, Jolie thinks, but she decides that present company might not appreciate the joke and so the compliment takes precedence. A sly smile takes place of the smirk as she plays at looking bashful, waving him off while silently thanking some vast and powerful deity for the Avox's drink redemption.

"Plenty proud, but it's not all on me. Sweet of you to notice, though." Just a huge amount of it is on her, obviously. "So, not enough pay, right? You'd think they'd up it, they just took our workload and multiplied it by a hundred." Five times the amount of Tributes, multiple Arenas and Crownings? If Jolie didn't love her job she'd be gone.

"Unruly, really? Seven must be something else." She looks almost owlish, trying to press the subject away as subtly as possible. "Guess I must be lucky, then. Most of mine know what they're here for- except one guy. A new guy. I found him in the kitchen trying to set his beard on fire with a toaster and he told me he's a Captain." She rolls her eyes in exasperation. "All these people coming in who haven't got a clue about technology are doomed. They need school for all these people they're pulling in from the past."

[whatisay]

"Or at least give us some upward mobility. I suppose seniority's all we have to look forward to here." He takes another drink and then pulls off the lemon rind to chew on, barely wincing at how sour it is.

"I sure hope he doesn't insist on you calling him that. That's the kind of title you earn, and for sure not in an Arena."

Jason's smile doesn't seem natural on his face, as if those muscles are part of an ensemble he only ever pulls out for social gatherings and stuffs in a drawer the rest of the time. It's not dishonest, per se, but neither does it convey any actual humor, even as he tries to laugh about the picture of a Tribute wrassling a toaster. "At least I don't have a team delinquent enough to get their whole District blown off the map. I don't know if District Three's behavior contributed to that, but I sure don't mean to find out."

[reallynow]

"Of course he does, doesn't mean I will though. Unless I need him for something quickly, anyway. It's like a squeaky toy." She even goes so far as to mimic squeaking a toy, if only because she's amusing herself at this point.

"God, no. I thank my lucky stars I didn't land more than one bad apple." But the less said about Lonestar and that crap, the better. Far better. "I don't even know what they stuck those assholes with now, career wise it'd be a death sentence." And it makes her realise she should be sincerely glad that they didn't go after District Eight or any of the people representing it when they took down that part of the rebellion. "Anyway, there's gotta be something good about it, right? Any hopefuls?"

[whatisay]

Jason laughs again, but despite the fact that he barely opens his mouth for it he seems to bare a lot of teeth when he does.

"How sad is that, that it's lucky for us if we only have one treasonous foreigner in our care? I've got a few already talking like they want to burn the whole place down - believe you me, I'm putting an end to that kind of talk fast. Just because they don't have any self-preservation instinct doesn't mean that I don't."

It's not as if shop talk is inherently a more pessimistic route of conversation for Jason, it's that pessimism is something of his lot in life, something he believes assigned to himself as he dresses himself in it willingly. Still, he's not entirely clueless about a good conversation. He can feel the disease with his complaining, and so he attempts to reroute.

"So far most of mine are good-looking, so that's a start. It's not like you can't market an ugly brute but it's always better to have a little beauty working for you."

[reallynow]

Luckily, Jolie is only marginally fueled by the enjoyment of other people when it comes to jokes. It isn't always presented as something funny that people should laugh at, it's just a manner of speaking that has navigated her through many Capitol parties.

"They don't teach 'em right, I'm telling you. They barely gave us a handbook of frequently asked questions and then they're throwing these offworlders at us and neither of us know where to begin. It's like the guy with the toaster, right? He doesn't get it, so he just keeps jamming the knife in until something happens. Doesn't help that half of them are mentally deficient." She holds up her hands and shakes her head as if she is so unbelievably done with the Tributes. As if she hasn't somehow narrowly escaped punishment from being involved with Lonestar.

"A pretty face goes a loooong way, I know. You can market ugly as something new and different, but you have to work those angles way harder. Most of mine are alright, though. We're starting to get so many burly guys you'd think we were the lumber district and not fabric, though." She twists her mouth in confusion. "Sometimes I wonder if they sort them by criteria or just stamp them and send them into any open slot."

[whatisay]

"Mentally deficient or from backwater worlds where a damn lightbulb is some kind of revelation. God knows I'm glad I didn't end up with many of those."

Jason feels genuine relief at that, that he doesn't have to wrench people's arms out of toasters before they electrocute themselves. It's enough to keep them from making fools of themselves, but he can't imagine he'd have the slightest bit of patience for the suicidally idiotic.

"Send some of those burly guys my way - not in the way that sounds, that was bad phrasing, I don't swing that way." He raises his eyebrows, unsure if he just tread somewhere he shouldn't have, having reached the limits of his skills socializing. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. But I'm trying to dress up people who haven't so much as lifted an axe as lumberjacks. If I thought they weren't sent to us randomly I'd be convinced it's a conspiracy to make us all look as stupid as possible."

[reallynow]

Jolie is both relieved and a little irate that some of the time-capped Tributes haven't been left in Jason's hands. It's annoying that she needs to deal with them, but she can't see him having the particular amount of patience it takes to deal with someone who has no idea where they are or what they're doing in a place like this.

Note to self, while making sure District Eight people aren't setting everything on fire it would be a good idea to make sure Jason isn't setting his suites on fire.

"Hmm, nah." She seems to ignore his awkward slip in lieu of considering the suggestion. Okay, no. Can't let that one pass. "Only if you have pretty girls to trade, because I swing both ways." She crinkles her nose, then moves on. "Tell me about it, god. I am so sick of these dumb themes and uniforms and colour codes. What is this? Kindergarten?"

dur hurr got my crowning rumors confused

[whatisay]

"I got one pretty girl, but I'm pretty sure she's too young for you, Jolie." Not that Jolie doesn't look plenty good for her age, but Jason's sure that at least half of that is a layer of facepaint so thick you could use it as a landing pad. Not that he says that out loud. He has a tendency to spit things out and then backtrack, but there are some things that can't be explained away from just being antagonistic and rude.

"You hear that they're not even going to let the Stylists decide on the colors for the upcoming crowning? Of course you've heard. You'd have had to, since they'd want you to scrap all your plans."

Jason had been planning on using the crowning as an opportunity to showcase and de-homogenize the relative oatmeal of his Tributes, to highlight personality traits he would later nail into the public consciousness with the intent of a hammer and the deftness of a scalpel. That that's been taken from him seems, to him, an example of how the world is conspiring to make his life all the more difficult.

"We had more creativity in kindergarten. So. Any favorites of yours? Promise I'm not using it to try and gain an edge." He bats his eyelashes as if playing coy, but it always looks a little strange on his face, as if he can't quite commit to it.

[reallynow]

Jolie looks fresh out of make up too, thank you Jason. It's just 20% good skincare and genetics, 40% botox and 40% virgin sacrifices and witchcraft. She purses her lips in disappointment when he points that out, but it turns to a more sly look when he asks the question.

"You know how trolls are with colour." She crinkles her nose now, because she's never particularly liked trolls since Eridan made an enemy of her. "They've filled me in." She confirms, but she keeps it vague. Crowning spoilers are taboo amongst her people.

"Favourite crowning or favourite tribute?" She quirks a brow inquisitively, but she chooses to use the time to boast anyway. "Brock is my favourite. Have you seen him? He's huge and he's got his shit together." She nods appreciatively as she speaks. "It's nice to have a Tribute who takes direction."

[whatisay]

"I'll trade you my pretty girl for Brock Samson." Jason faux-bats his lashes, but like his smile or his laughter, it just doesn't seem to match his face. It almost looks rendered in stop-motion, rather than something happening organically. "I bet he'd look like a perfectly respectable lumberjack in a coonskin cap and flannel."

He, too, doesn't spoil the crowning further than that. Even with so few Tributes here, he doesn't trust anyone who overheard not to go running their mouth. He's been so disappointed by secret-keepers in the past.

"The Crownings, though. You'd think with all the money they put into making each one bigger and better, they could raise our salaries a bit."

[reallynow]

"Tempting, but no. He's as close a shot as we've got at a win right now. If I get that desperate, I'll shave one of them and put them in drag." She jokes, like she hasn't very seriously considered it while flipping through the magazines with spreads of beautiful evening gowns. The awkward laugh certainly blips on her radar, but she'll small talk him until she's prepared to leave him to his own grumpy devices again.

"Oh! Hmm, lemme think. Clara's was crap, that theme was all over the place. Kevin's was fucking awful. Shirts? Hotdogs? I could have cried. Mindy's was stupid but at least the costumes were fun." She's getting pretty far back now, counting on her fingers as she goes. "The less said about Frenchie the better. You know? I think they nailed it with the Gladiator guy. That was timeless and classy." She lets out a wistful sigh, but move on with the conversation. "I get the feeling they're going to start docking me if we're looking at more of this same shirt bullshit."

[whatisay]

"Oh, Jolie. Nevermind your Tributes, don't do that to the viewers." The image of Jack Sparrow in drag - scraggly beard and all - does bring a wicked sort of smirk to Jason's lips.

"I don't know, I think we should make all of them wrestle gilded tigers, personally." Some Capitol citizens think that Mentors are just District or offworld people who have proven themselves worthy of the Capitol; others, like Jason, thinks being uncivilized runs in the blood. The Capitol might be safer if fewer people put their trust in people who've killed and betrayed their way to join the club. Still, he doesn't sound totally serious. "Don't jinx it. I'm already funneling all my paycheck to my idiot brother and my mother so she can get herself a new fainting couch."

[reallynow]

"Say what you want, plenty of people find a butch queen compelling. Plus I have at least one or two pretty ones." She's thinking of Brock in some spaghetti strapped monstrosity with permed to death hair and it's killing her.

"Maybe. Nobody likes damaged goods, though. Why do you think he hit rock bottom once he was down a leg?" She shakes her head, a severe expression on her face as she condemns someone for taking part in a rebellion that she had a hand in.

"You've gotta save something for yourself. How else are you going to drink to forget?" A little concern crosses her face, even if she's aware that he's a douche. His family has been riding the sympathy pony for a while, but Jason smacks of someone stuck in a self fulfilling prophecy. She doesn't want to give him pity or charity, but her eyes fall to that suit and she can't help meddling.

"You should give me a break from petulant baby tributes sometime and let me sew you something. How much would that piss off Seven's stylists?"

[whatisay]

"Like I say, should've put a wire in that spare leg of his. Recorded all his seditious conversations with Earp. But no one listens to my bright ideas."

He keeps a snarl off his face, but it lurks inside his chest, cohabiting with his lungs and his heart that keeps stubbornly beating at its elevated pace. It's an instinctive reaction to pity, to want to spit it back in Jolie's face, to insist that he can manage on his own and that the ship he's running isn't a slipshod skivvy that he's keeping held together with both hands. Instead he just looks dimly stunned for a moment.

On the other hand, it's a free outfit, the most humiliating part of the fall of his family is the fact that he can't necessarily turn those down. One of his Tributes has already commented on him wearing the same suit jacket three times in a week.

"I don't think Stig would notice, honestly." Jason leans in and stage-whispers. "He's actually blind to decent fashion. Just doesn't see it. His head trauma means that it doesn't stick in his brain."

And then, with the anger redirected at Stig and not at Jolie, he answers the actual request. "I'd appreciate that, if you have the spare materials."

[reallynow]

For the majority of her life, Jolie has had the luxury of speaking her mind when she wants to. Her family isn't as old money as the Reagans and she doesn't have the political connections of a Blackwood, but she's been cultured to believe that she doesn't have to exercise much tact for anyone on or below her level. Given the way he was yelling earlier, it may not have been the best idea to make an offer like that, but she's not the type to pull him aside later and tell him he looks stupid.

Either way, in her eyes, she's coming off successful. If he turns her down, he continues to look like shit by her standards and if he says yes then she's presented with yet another opportunity to do her part as a Stylist and do something nice for a guy who could probably use a hug and a psych more than a suit.

A sly smile returns to her lips when the small moment of dread for an unpleasant reaction passes. "It'll be like the Emperor's new clothes all over again, then." She chuckles, keeping her smile in check when he acts agreeable. "It'd be my pleasure. You know I like it when I can get pretty people in my clothes." She pulls a face, dramatized for emphasis. "Pick up line not intended, of course."

[whatisay]

"Like I say. I appreciate it."

Jason smirks and looks flattered for a moment. He knows he's pretty, thanks to the Compson fortune before his parents and siblings pissed it away. Nosejob at sixteen, invisible braces through his adolescence, and most importantly, he was raised to carry himself in a way that marks him as one of the elite. Confidence, arrogance, superiority can hide all sorts of parts of someone's face or body that might otherwise cast them out of the echelons of handsome men. He runs his hand through his hair.

"Besides, I may have more luck getting my charges something to eat if I'm not running to Sponsor meetings wearing...this." He gestures to the suit, the loose thread at the corner of his cuff, the awkward stitch along the knee, and he actually does look ashamed and angry at the entire world, the entire universe, for just a moment. Humiliated that his financial status is so obvious. His face is slightly reddened.

"Do you do sizing, measurement, the entire thing or do I just pop by, see your assistant for ten minutes and then see a full suit in a week?"

[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."

[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]

"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?]

[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.]