Nick (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
streetsmarts) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-01-11 05:54 pm
streetsmarts) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-11 05:54 pm
Entry tags:
When you own the world, you're always home.
Who| Nick and OPEN
What| Fresh in from the zombie apocalypse.
Where| D7 suits, Commons bar, through the halls.
When| 11/01, ish.
Warnings| Sexual stuff in some of the threads.
It was over. Done. Done like dinner. After a goddamn marathon of bullshit, after continuous strife and disappointment, their asses were safe. That doesn't mean Nick isn't in a mild state of panic when he arrives. You spend a while attached at the hip with some mouthy assholes, you kind of notice the silence when they're gone. The fact that they'd come so far to be separated isn't as much of a relief as he'd thought it would be. He could use Rochelle to tell him to snap out of it right now, but instead he has weird looking guards devoid of emotional response regardless of his questions.
If they think he's bad, they should meet Ellis.
It becomes abundantly clear that this isn't some quarantine facility. This isn't the Thunderdome of the apocalypse, and somehow that makes it weirder. His chest is still tight with uncertainty and fear, but he hasn't really processed all of the information he's been spoon fed just yet.
D7 suites: It's hard to be angry when he's lead to the lavish suites and left the fuck alone. His grubby suit doesn't suit the fine decor, and that becomes abundantly clear as he catches his reflection in the reflective surface of a window. He visibly crinkles his nose, and he can't be looking anything but himself at this point.
"Rough.." He mutters, brushing off his front like it'll do him any good at this rate. Whatever. He's bone tired and the couch looks all too appealing, so he's sinking back onto it with his dirty shoes propped on the arm of it. He's already lounging around like he owns the place, but he couldn't care less about what anyone thinks. Hell, he hasn't seen anyone to be dismissive of yet. Not anyone who seems to care what he thinks, at least.
Lobby Bar: After lounging, Nick finds something to change into. He almost wants to keep his suit on for how little he wants to be caught dead in jeans and a button up, but the stink of months of fighting zombies is far more notable when you're removed from the situation.
He's had a shower, he's clean and he's ready to scope out what the Capitol has to offer. He's headed out to the streets when the bar catches the corner of his eye and well, one drink couldn't hurt, right? He makes his way to the bar and orders, and his desperation probably obvious from the way he slams the drink down. One drink becomes a couple and he's starting to become curious, he eyes people nearby and decides to approach them every so often.
"If you've been here longer than an hour, you could really put my mind at ease here." He says smoothly, trying to come off as someone in need of sympathy without compromising himself too much. "I'm having some technical difficulties here." He taps his head to demonstrate this. "Is it meant to come off like some weird fever dream? 'Cause I can't be sick. I use hand sanitizer religiously."
Through the halls: Now that he's had a few drinks, he figures he might leave wandering the Capitol for some other time. Instead, he'll work from the ground up. He pokes around the floors of the towers, but it's getting to be night and it's getting to be quiet. He's in his own head, mulling over how impossible all of this crap here, wondering where the other assholes got to and pretty much any sudden noise could have him lurching to the side. He reaches for a gun that isn't there before he forces himself to calm down, shoulders slumping a little when he does.
"I'm never gonna grow out of that." He groans mournfully, his heart still racing in his chest. He's going to be thinking about the Infected for a long, long time.
What| Fresh in from the zombie apocalypse.
Where| D7 suits, Commons bar, through the halls.
When| 11/01, ish.
Warnings| Sexual stuff in some of the threads.
It was over. Done. Done like dinner. After a goddamn marathon of bullshit, after continuous strife and disappointment, their asses were safe. That doesn't mean Nick isn't in a mild state of panic when he arrives. You spend a while attached at the hip with some mouthy assholes, you kind of notice the silence when they're gone. The fact that they'd come so far to be separated isn't as much of a relief as he'd thought it would be. He could use Rochelle to tell him to snap out of it right now, but instead he has weird looking guards devoid of emotional response regardless of his questions.
If they think he's bad, they should meet Ellis.
It becomes abundantly clear that this isn't some quarantine facility. This isn't the Thunderdome of the apocalypse, and somehow that makes it weirder. His chest is still tight with uncertainty and fear, but he hasn't really processed all of the information he's been spoon fed just yet.
D7 suites: It's hard to be angry when he's lead to the lavish suites and left the fuck alone. His grubby suit doesn't suit the fine decor, and that becomes abundantly clear as he catches his reflection in the reflective surface of a window. He visibly crinkles his nose, and he can't be looking anything but himself at this point.
"Rough.." He mutters, brushing off his front like it'll do him any good at this rate. Whatever. He's bone tired and the couch looks all too appealing, so he's sinking back onto it with his dirty shoes propped on the arm of it. He's already lounging around like he owns the place, but he couldn't care less about what anyone thinks. Hell, he hasn't seen anyone to be dismissive of yet. Not anyone who seems to care what he thinks, at least.
Lobby Bar: After lounging, Nick finds something to change into. He almost wants to keep his suit on for how little he wants to be caught dead in jeans and a button up, but the stink of months of fighting zombies is far more notable when you're removed from the situation.
He's had a shower, he's clean and he's ready to scope out what the Capitol has to offer. He's headed out to the streets when the bar catches the corner of his eye and well, one drink couldn't hurt, right? He makes his way to the bar and orders, and his desperation probably obvious from the way he slams the drink down. One drink becomes a couple and he's starting to become curious, he eyes people nearby and decides to approach them every so often.
"If you've been here longer than an hour, you could really put my mind at ease here." He says smoothly, trying to come off as someone in need of sympathy without compromising himself too much. "I'm having some technical difficulties here." He taps his head to demonstrate this. "Is it meant to come off like some weird fever dream? 'Cause I can't be sick. I use hand sanitizer religiously."
Through the halls: Now that he's had a few drinks, he figures he might leave wandering the Capitol for some other time. Instead, he'll work from the ground up. He pokes around the floors of the towers, but it's getting to be night and it's getting to be quiet. He's in his own head, mulling over how impossible all of this crap here, wondering where the other assholes got to and pretty much any sudden noise could have him lurching to the side. He reaches for a gun that isn't there before he forces himself to calm down, shoulders slumping a little when he does.
"I'm never gonna grow out of that." He groans mournfully, his heart still racing in his chest. He's going to be thinking about the Infected for a long, long time.
no subject
She blinked in confusion as if that was the most obvious thing in the world "I figured we'd bust him out of his cell and we'd go on the run till he could get a plan together on how to get us home. He's the smartest guy I know."
Or was anyway, but that wasn't really the point either. Presuming she had a point.
"Sometimes it doesn't take that much. I heard the old head of security once avox'd a bunch of people and showed them on the magic screens just because they were speaking out about the Capitol."
no subject
"Right. I'll keep that in mind." His mouth is a tight frown and his words are terse, he's clearly a really pleasant and fun guy to be around. "So you been in one of these things yet?" He casts a quick glance over her, looking skeptical once more.
no subject
“Yeah i’ve been in a couple.” She acknowledged counting on her fingers. “The first one was this creepy town where a blind monster guy with teeth like a screaming death ate me alive. Then there was the sinking ship where I got eaten by a shark. I killed a lot more people that round though! Then there was that big shopping city where this woman came and fought with me right? But this old guy stopped her and made her leave and before I could relax he stabbed me in the guts.” That one had made her really mad.
“Then there was that other one where it was like an obstacle course and this other tribute knocked me into a tub of slime that melted me. And then this last one I just died in where a monster ripped me apart.” She smirked fondly as if the memory was something she would cherish forever.
“I hope the next one is soon, living in the Capitol is a pain. Everyone expects you to use your manners and be nice and friendly and talk to people and keep clean and wear dresses and stuff.”
no subject
"I didn't ask for your life story, cupcake. Yap yap yap, seriously." He mimes her chattering with his hand, putting on an appropriately whiny voice when he does so before he scoffs and mutters women under his breath.
"Yeah. Food, shelter and clean clothes are a real burden. Must be so godawful compared to fucking dying, you crazy person!" He exclaims, throwing a hand up in frustration before giving her a flat look. "I am not wearing a dress."
no subject
"Wow, your attention span is shorter then even mine."
It was almost admirable really. Being called crazy made her smile though.
"Don't fight it too hard. Ya gotta keep the people happy or you won't get any help in the arena." She warned trying to keep concise this time if only to prove she could.
no subject
"Oh, so miss jail escapee is going to tell me how to behave now, huh?" Some humor has returned to his voice, so it's less scathing and more sarcastic. He raises a challenging brow at Ruffnut, sipping his drink before he shakes his head. "I know how to dance like a good monkey, doesn't mean I'm gonna wear a dress."
no subject
"Hey I may not behave but I'm still alive. That's gotta count for something."
Inexhaustible luck perhaps.
Helping herself to a bowl of berries she began tossing them into the air opening her mouth and trying to catch them. The first three missed entirely and bounced off the counter onto the floor. The fourth landed on her nose and rolled off to the side hitting her shoulder before tumbling out of sight. It really was a wonder how she had made it this far. But in her mind it was all talent in being entertaining and a willingness to play the game.
no subject
"Right. Well I have zombie bile on my suit and I haven't showered in well over a month, so excuse me while I go pay attention to something that matters. Me." He snorts, moving to invite himself out of the kitchen with little more than a nod of acknowledgement for Ruffnut. Lovely roommate, really.
no subject
"Be careful with the buttons. There's like a million of them." Ruffnut had found out the hard way how complicated Capitol showers could be.
These two were clearly destined to be the best of friends.