If you ever get to the place where the sun is shining everyday

[cigne]

Who| Swann and maybe you???
What| Gotta shape up these Tributes. And maybe have a drink.
Where| D8 Suites and also the bar in the lobby
When| TODAY

a. District 8 Suites
Swann enters the Suite with her heels clicking on the floor, peering around for any sign of life in here. She carries in her shopping bags, each labeled with the name of her Tributes. The bags overwhelm her tiny frame, the sheer amount of them and their size. Even her sky-high stilettos can't balance it all out.

She approaches the sitting room and carefully arranges the bags on the coffee table, placing them just so, very intent on the appearance. She wants everything to look just right when the Tributes come in, wants to see their eyes light up at how pretty the bags are, with their pristine edges and rich black shine and ribbons on the handles.

They have to show up first, though.

b. Lobby bar

All she needed was a single lemon drop martini, and she has it. Sitting on the high barstool, Swann looks out over the lobby, watching people come and go, watching the crowds ebb and flow as the Tributes enter and leave the building. It's interesting enough, made nicer by the drink, and the screens replay all the best scenes from the past Arena.

She occasionally fiddles with her communicators, checking emails and messages and the tabloids, making sure everything's in order while she dares to lounge for just a few moments.

Comments

[cigne]

Swann's busy on her communicator, answering emails as she sips at her drink. She doesn't notice the man until he moves over, and when she glances up and he looks at her, there's a moment before realization washes over her face.

"Cyrus!" She beams, gets off her stool and trots the few paces to hug him, not really asking whether he wants to be hugged. It's quick, though, and she moves her purse and drink over to be closer to him.

"I knew Stephen was here, but not you! How are you? How is your family?"

[currupted]

He didn't ask to be hugged, but he tolerates it, even puts his arms around her shoulders briefly in return. They go back far enough. They've hugged before.

"They're well," he says, and smiles, and it's genuine. This is something he really enjoys talking about. "Portia's on a District tour this week, and Livia's sponsoring an art show, I think. And-- I guess you know what Stephen's been doing." He shakes his head-- "He didn't tell me you were here, for some reason." In a tone that says He'll be hearing from me about that.

"So what brings you here?" he asks. "Another addition to the staff roster...? Publicity...?" With an am I getting closer? sort of waving motion.

[cigne]

"Oh! If she's headed to Four, tell her to say hello to Viatrix, she's at the resort on the beach!" Swann is so perky, so happy to be talking to someone who's happy to talk to her. It's kind of a first for today.

"I'm the new Escort for Eight!" she explains happily, hands clasped together in front of her chest. "It's not Stephen's fault, I've only really just started today. "It's been a real learning experience so far, getting to know them and figuring out how to work with them. Did you know my District has no women? It's just me and Jolie!"

[currupted]

She's so genuinely happy, and that sets her apart. Escorts can look a little... frazzled, these days; there's a kind of perky that goes up in front of cameras and vanishes the instant they're gone, a frozen-fixed kind of smile with which Cyrus is just. Really familiar. But she looks actually happy to see him. What a change.

"Seriously," he says, and tries to remember who the hell is in District Eight. Joel? Maximus-- no, Maxwell...? Whatever. "Did we stop requiring every District send a girl, or what? I swear we wrote that into law at some point."

Haha. Hunger Games humor.

[cigne]

She laughs at the joke, and it's real. Maybe because she's just so pleased to see Cyrus, or maybe she thinks it's funny (it's the former). But all she cares about is that she doesn't feel flustered, like when she talks to the Tributes, or sad like when Jason was here, and it's enough to make her not care at all about anything else.

"It must be on our end, since we're the ones picking! I'm not about to get in that Arena because of my skirt, so you better get on fixing that, Cyrus!" she teases, white teeth shining as she beams. One hand falls to her knee as she looks at him, her pink nails with their three-dimensional bow pieces matching the color of her dress almost exactly.

"So tell me, tell me, how are things with you?"

[currupted]

"Things are..." Cyrus hunts for a word that both encompasses all of it, and isn't completely honest. He takes a drink while he thinks, and that's part of the answer, too, actually-- it's a long sip, a gulp he needs rather than one he enjoys.

"...hectic," is what he decides on, because he can say that with a rueful grin that takes any real bite out of it. "But, what else is new, right?" He shakes his head-- "I don't know how you do it. You Escorts, I mean. Just-- being around them. All day." A grimace, that's not totally serious, but also kind of serious. "They are a really unique kind of exhausting."

It is, in its way, intended as a compliment.

[cigne]

"Oh, they're not so bad, at least not most of them."

Swann waves her hand dismissively, both because she's overly optimistic and because she genuinely doesn't have a problem with most of her Tributes.

"You just need to be a little more patient with them. I think a lot of them are expecting us to treat them badly just for being from somewhere else, so we have to show them that's not the case. That we're happy they're here and they're very important to us!"

[currupted]

"That they are," Cyrus says, with a brief lift of his glass that is almost not sardonic at all. "To our Tributes." He drinks, and hasn't put the glass down before he gestures at the bartender for another. (It's the end of the workday. He's allowed.)

"See," he adds, "This is why Stephen's the Escort, and not me. He's always been the more patient of the two of us."