City never sleeps so I guess I never slept on.

[shenunigans]

Who| Dave and Feferi, Gary, Clara and Steve.
What| Punchy is "dead", Dave needs to deal with it.
Where| D9, D11
When| Spanning over the week after the Panem Nightly post.
Warnings/Notes| Talkin' about murder.

It's hard to process real death after being surrounded by fake death for so long. It's like switching from lite milk to full cream, because it's doing something to his stomach. But then, processing infers some level of understanding or acceptance. Dave didn't talk to anyone when the cheery presenters woefully announced that his friend was dead. It's not the first time he's disappeared, it's not the first time anyone's disappeared, but it's different this time.

They're just lying. They're probably lying. There's no reason to believe them, but there's no reason not to, either. Punchy is gone, he isn't in his room and he isn't staggering back into the commons no matter how long Dave sits around on the couches and pretends the News got it wrong.

It shouldn't be this hard anymore, but it feels like there's a vice around his chest when he thinks about it. There's sad irony in the fact that the guy reminded him so vividly of his Bro, then they got close, then he died. It's hilarious, really, that all of his foundations are starting to crumble slowly or very rapidly and he doesn't know how to handle it anymore.

Maybe he owes it to Punchy to feel something, or show something, but it's easier to be mindless and numb about all of this. He doesn't drink or party, he just deals with it. He's either sleeping all day or awake all hours and when anyone sees him, he's fronting. Trying too hard to be over it too fast.

Comments

[fintastic]

"Really? They serve food? Oh, I don't know if we should go there after all, that is just too appalling for me!"

She's bad at keeping the joke going, because she laughs straight after, but he's not fooling anyone, especially not her. He was going to say something about fish, she just knows it. She's still following along though, thankful for the adjusted pace.

"I think next time we go out, I will just attach a cart to you and let you drive," she follows up, as her only acknowledgment of thanks. "That way I won't even have to worry about keeping up. What do you think about that, could that be like, our first real romantic date?"

[shenunigans]

"Yeah, food. It's revolutionary and you'll be sorry when it's 20 years later and everybody is eating food everywhere and shunning the nonbelievers." He needs to continue his commentary even when she starts laughing, but he's glad when she puts them on the express lane to another topic.

"Nothing says romance like turning your potential boyfriend into a cart mule." The word boyfriend rolls off his tongue a little too easily and it makes him a little uneasy. "Just put a burger on a string pole and hold it in front of me and we can go cross country." He pauses suddenly, swerving to the left and toward the door of a nice looking restaurant.

"Bam. We walk fast." Excuse him while he disregards any adoring fans and just beelines them both to a table. He flops into his chair and, like a gentleman, pushes her chair out with his foot.

[fintastic]

Well, Feferi likes the idea, and she doesn't seem bothered by his choice of phrasing. Boyfriend doesn't mean as much to her. Any of her quadrants could be a boyfriend, really.

"A burger on a stick... I like that idea, thanks!" He thinks she's joking. She isn't joking. Well, maybe a little-- but not entirely.

As he pulls her through the door of the restaurant, she stops a moment to take a look around. She's never been here before, so she wants to get to know the place, but she doesn't want to lose him either. Following along, she slides into her seat, unawares of whatever breaches in human etiquette he might be making in the process. As soon as she's settled, she reaches her hands across the table, palms up, but doesn't say anything. She just... stares, expecting him to do something.

[shenunigans]

When Feferi doesn't question the choice of words, he takes it as an unspoken approval for them. Which it is, really, but he's forgotten that the term is different for her and they never did talk about quadrants.

"God, I'm hungry. How did you know I was hungry?" It was her idea to eat, after all. He's practically salivating at the mere concept of a burger and he turns to look at the specials on the board before looking back at Feferi and her outstretched hands. He raises a brow, not sure what she wants him to do at all.

He reaches for a menu and offers it to her sincerely. He isn't fronting, he's just confused.

[fintastic]

"Because I always know when dumb buoys aren't taking care of themselves. You probably need a bath too, but I was being nice, and not saying so!" She stares at the menu that he's placed on top of her hands for a second, then sets it aside gentle. She puts her hands out again. "Come here, give me your hands."

She wiggles her fingers, trying to convince him. They're getting a few glances here and there, but thankfully no staring or interruptions. Either way, she's not going to let up any time soon, and doesn't seem nearly as interested in food as he is.

[shenunigans]

"See, that's just creepy now. I bet you've been sniffing my shirts, penning my musky meter. That's weird, Feferi. And I had like, half a shower today." Which is to say he washed his face, sprayed himself with Capitol Axe and changed his shirt. That's a step, because sleeping and existing in the same shirt has been a strange, monotonous sort of comfort that he sacrificed to be fresh.

He glances around as well, looking back at her hands with a raised eyebrow. "What do you need my hands for?" He asks, holding out his hands to hover them over hers. "Are you going to show me a magic trick?" The sad thing is, he sincerely believes she might, even if he's getting the idea of what she's angling for.

[fintastic]

As she lifts her palms to his and clamps her thumb around his hand, she shakes her head. "I do not need to sniff your shirts, I can smell you from here!"

Pulling his hands down to the table on top of hers, she... doesn't really do anything, except rub at the back of his hand with her thumbs. But from a viewer's perspective it looks vaguely cute and affectionate, and that's what she's really looking for. Somewhere, a camera snaps, but she doesn't look up, tracing invisible lines of the back of his hand.

"I think I will have whatever you are having. Can I trust you?"

[shenunigans]

"Lucky you." He snorts, and even if she's joking he can't help but get a little self conscious over the fact that he probably doesn't look or smell too fresh. He never used to care, but being in the public eye is making it hard to wander out into the harsh and painful sunlight looking like the crypt keeper in expensive jeans and designer, hipster shirts that cost too much to look too cheap.

It doesn't matter too much when she starts rubbing his hands, and it's profoundly strange and incredibly comforting at the same time. Like her, pretty much. His eyes are locked on her hands, the camera snap bringing him back to earth so he can raise a brow in the direction he heard it coming from.

"Trust me." He says, glancing back at her before looking up at the server and ordering two cheeseburgers with fries and apple juice on the side and as much cheese as they can humanely stuff into it. Enjoy.