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]

"I hope he does." She sighs and looks at her drink. "But he's not particularly... excited about being brought back from his District. I think he preferred the peace out there, compared to the city. A lot of them do, the Capitol is so different for them."

The corner of Swann's mouth quirks when he takes on that expression. She could rain on his parade, remind him that Clara Murphy, of all people, took a crown, mention that it only works if your high-scorers want to play the game. But instead, she smiles.

"It does! So it's fine. You have a good shot."

[whatisay]

"I can't imagine wanting to spend time in the Districts. I only go to the Districts on rare occasion for business, and every time I do I feel like I need to take a few dozen showers when I get back." Jason shudders; the sole bright spot of his ventures out to District Eleven are his evenings with Lorraine, and the relative anonymity of being just a 'bigshot from the Capitol' and not a Compson that he gets out there.

"Hope he gets his head on straight and thinks better of it. We'll need either your District or mine to try and overthrow District Six's reign." If only because Jason harbors some unpleasant, inexplicable resentment for Stephen. Stephen, who lacks ambition, who sailed into his Escortship when Jason would have done so much more with those opportunities.

[cigne]

She shrugs a little, takes another sip of her drink. "It's what he grew up with. You and I are used to how things are here, but I imagine it's a lot to take in when you're used to something different. I've been to Eight, and it's not colorful and bright, like here -- I bet it's overwhelming. But the people work hard, and they're nice, and we owe them for all they do for us. Everything on your body came from Eight, Jason."

Swann is a Capitolite, but she does have a soft spot for Eight, if only because she's spent time in those factories and with the designers. Eight brought her the start of her fame, and so she feels inclined to take care of them, enough so that she's willing to speak up about it.

After her first visit, she always used to bring them gifts. Cookies and toys for the children in the textile mills, the little ones who worked there after school.

But she nods. "I want another District to win. It was good for Twelve to win. I'm not sure they've had a winner since Katniss and Peeta."

goddamnit, Swann is too precious

[whatisay]

"Well, well, well, look who grew up to be right sentimental." Jason snorts a little, teases, the smile on his face almost genuine with amusement. "Tell me you don't go on holidays. That would just be too much. The powers that be might start keeping an eye on that little tongue of yours."

It's a dangerous line to walk, sympathizing with the Districts, like nearly anything that isn't toeing the party line. A few false steps and you end up an Avox, or in some sort of rehab facility like that ill-fated correspondent on SWANN.

[cigne]

Her cheeks burn pink, and she fixates on the bar counter, the shine of the marble under the lights. "I haven't been in a few years, no. Not since Stylistic. I didn't have time, and now with this job... I don't know when I'll make it back. I just know that there's good people outside of the Capitol, too. That's all. Not everyone in the Districts is a crazy rebel."

Stomach turning, she pushes away the rest of her drink. She doesn't want it anymore.

[whatisay]

"With our luck they might send us on District Tours again, and you'll get your wish. And I'll get hives." Jason snorts, still looking gleeful at the expression on Swann's face, the embarrassment, the backtracking.

"I'm not saying they're all crazy rebels, Swann. But they're not- they're not like us. And they never will be. And you best remember that, because it's what this country's founded on."

[cigne]

"Maybe the Tributes will work harder if they meet the people out there, though. You want a win. Maybe it would help."

Maxwell seemed motivated by the idea of being someone's champion, at least. It was worth the thought, that helping people would make the Tributes want to fight more.

She doesn't look up at Jason.

"They may not be like us, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't care about them."

[whatisay]

"Wouldn't everyone's Tributes be motivated then?" Jason shakes his head and keeps smoking. His upper lip has become a little damp from exhaling the vapor, the shadow he hasn't shaved since yesterday catching water droplets.

"Oh, I care about them. I care about them so much as I keep getting paid to make these Tributes represent them." He raises an eyebrow. "Seriously, Swann. Don't press it. Even if I agreed with you - and I don't - I wouldn't want to be hearing you saying things that could get us both hauled in for questioning."

Maybe he's paranoid, but given that his family's got a black mark for fraternizing with Avoxes, he doesn't want to risk it.

[cigne]

"I don't think it's so bad to want everyone happy," she mumbles, fiddling with her skirt, but shuts up anyway, just because he said to and because it's easier. She doesn't point out that he doesn't have to be an Escort, and she doesn't point out that not all the Districts appreciate these new Games.

She really doesn't say anything. She just sits and waits, because she's sure Jason will be happier if he chooses what they talk about.

[whatisay]

"Well, you're young. You'll grow out of that." And that's that; Jason sounds as if he'll bear no argument with her, having made his stance on universal happiness clear.

And so for a little bit they don't talk at all, and then Jason's phone rings, the plain ringtone of someone who never bothered to customize it. He lets the screen tell him who it is before getting up rather suddenly.

"Pardon me, Swann. I got to take this call." He leaves a half-finished glass of seltzer water there. "See you around. Don't miss me too much."

[cigne]

Swann has to resist the urge to tell him that he's only a few years older than she is, and besides, hasn't she really met more people in the world than he is? But that would be rude, and so she bites her tongue until his phone rings and he gets up.

"Have a good night, Jason," she says amiably, watching him go, and instinctively raises her hand to wave it very slightly.

All the while, she wonders if anyone really ever misses Jason when he goes.