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

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

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.

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"Oh, um..."

She watches an umbrella fly, followed by a pair of platinum cufflinks and a compact mirror. Her hand is raised as if she were going to say something, but the words never leave her mouth before he's actually interested in something in the bag. He's the first one to actually thank her for any of it.

Her smile returns, and she proudly presents her hand for a handshake.

"I'm Swann Honeymead, the new Escort for this District."

"Captain Jack Sparrow."

He grasps her hand lightly, the gold in his upper teeth catching on the artificial light overhead as the smile on his face widens. "Swann Honeymead. Now that's a beautiful name if I ever heard one. Pleasure to meet you, darling." With that, his hand slips away from hers, lingering atop the bag of goodies.

"Escort for this District? How do you mean?" He's not heard the term, not at least in the sense that the Capitol would use it.

God, this one is going to be ridiculously easy to market. She doesn't even have to do anything to his image except maybe have him forcibly bathed a few times -- he can't meet with Sponsors when he doesn't smell nice and clean.

"Well, Captain Sparrow," she starts, taking her pad and pen from her purse to jot down a few notes, "my job is to sell your image to the Capitol, basically. Make people become invested in you, so that they'll spend money to support you when you go into the Arena. It's very, very important to have Sponsors, Jack. They can send you food, or medication, or tools. The right gift can really be the difference between life and death in there!"

Swann looks up from her notes with a smile, as if she didn't just inform him that he might die unless he helps shill himself.

"How would you feel about a cereal endorsement deal? Pirate-themed, of course. Maybe little marshmallow treasure chests!"

Bathing regularly. It's not a habit he's entirely used to yet, even with a 'shower' readily available.

There's a brief moment -- as Swann chatters about 'Sponsors' and gifts and the Arena and everything that Jack doesn't want to think about -- where the corner of the pirate's mouth twitches in agitation, a muscle in his jaw jumps. But it's quickly smoothed away by a pleasant, familiar grin.

"That'd be a delight, luv, were I to know what 'cereal' even was."

He doesn't bother correcting her about the pirate bit; in most cases, Jack would be more than wary for anyone to outright call him a criminal like that. But with the Arena -- a literal death sentence -- hanging over his head, it didn't seem as important.

She covers her mouth with embarrassment, because how can she expect an off-worlder to know everything? Maybe they don't have cereal where he's from. "I can show you!"

Flittering away to the kitchen, she returns after a moment with a box of Frosted Jewels, one the Capitol's more popular brands, fruity little jewel-shaped pieces of corn cereal. She hands him the box and points to the bowl on the front.

"See? It's food, you put it in milk and eat it, and there are lots of different kinds. And that's Shiny Glittersby, the mascot, you see his smile? Except he's a cartoon, and you're real! So it's even more exciting for people to buy your cereal, because they're supporting you. I think we'll have yours be chocolate, though."

Jack watches her zip away into the kitchen with a faint splash of amusement in his expression; she's certainly a bubbly and perky person. When she comes back with her prize in hand, the pirate gingerly takes the box from her and inspects it. He eventually pops open the top and peers inside, then reaches a hand into it to grab a few pieces.

"Hm." The word is a hum in his throat, and Jack turns over one of the bits in his fingers. "Food, you say." A pause. It doesn't look entirely edible, but what could it hurt. He tosses them into his mouth for a taste test, then immediately sticks his tongue out and makes a face. It's sugary and artificial, unnatural in its flavor. But the expression quickly snaps off his face, and he smiles at her. "... It's great."

And if she felt that it would help him somehow, to associate his image with this stuff, then how was he to argue. "Why chocolate, exactly?"

Swann smirks behind her hand at his reaction to the cereal -- it's a kids' cereal, so of course it's disgustingly sweet. She didn't know that he would immediately shove it in his mouth.

"You don't have to like this one, you can have input on your own cereal. I think chocolate might just be a bit nicer, more palatable, but that's all something we can work on later."

She waves her hand dismissively, then trots to the sofa, her skirt flouncing around. She takes a seat and starts writing notes.

"So, tell me a little more about you! Things that you want people to know, important stuff."

"Aye, sure enough." It's definitely too disgustingly sugary for the pirate, who was more accustomed to a life of bitter alcohol, dry biscuits, and mostly plain foods, with the occasional fruit thrown in. He wasn't entirely sure that chocolate would make it much better, either, but then again it wasn't for him.

Jack finds his own seat to settle in nearby, a comfortable love-seat with impossibly fluffy cushions, and sinks in. At her question, Jack spreads his arms out and flashes a grin.

"Beyond that you all have, in your midst, the one and and only eternally charming and absurdly handsome Captain Jack Sparrow?" A short, waiting pause. Yeah? No? No. Yeah no one recognizes him here. He waves his hand. "That is, the infamously famous Captain Jack Sparrow; I've sailed the Seven Seas -- thrice -- an' far beyond the edges of the map, been devoured by the Kraken and swallowed down into the depths of hell, only t' return back to life and slay the terrible, tentacled beastie -- all by me own hand." Okay, that last part was a lie. But who would know. "Captain of the Black Pearl, the fastest and most magnificent ship in all the world." Another pause. "Is that satisfactory, or should I go on?" Because Jack could definitely keep going.

She's taking furious notes, underlining the word KRAKEN! at least three time times. That's definitely something to work with, as is "Black Pearl", which gets an arrow and the question pirate themed jewelry line?.

Looking up at him, Swann taps the big pink puffball on the end of her pen to her lips, then shakes her head. "And do you think this is what we should stick with, image-wise? Because we can definitely smooth out a few rough edges to make you more appealing to a wider market, but you have to be willing to stick with the changes, at least in the public eye."

Really, she just wants an excuse to shove him in the shower and maybe comb out some of those ratty dreadlocks.

Smooth out a few rough edges? The pirate perks an eyebrow in question, glances down at himself, then lifts his gaze back to her.

"How do you mean? What's amiss with me appearance?"

As far as Jack was concerned, there was absolutely nothing wrong with how he looked. His attire was perfectly standard -- besides the multitude of personal flares he'd added to it that spoke to his personality -- for his time and vocation. He'd taken great care to construct most of this image all by himself; the rest of it had been carved out from a rough and harsh life at sea.

"Um, well..."

Swann sets her pad and pen down, smooths out her skirt and crosses her ankles as she folds her hands on her lap. Awkward.

"Your image is nice. Good, really! I mean, the beads in your hair and the piratey clothes and everything, I like it! But... here in the Capitol... people tend to like things a little... cleaner. Not that you're dirty! But... you know, maybe a few more showers couldn't hurt? And having your hair brushed out so it's soft and nice, and we can even out your tan a little. And you can work with Jolie to design new piratey clothes, ones that are clean and made of prettier materials! District 8 is the textile district, it would make them so happy out there if they saw you wearing the things they work so hard on."

She's fidgeting again, and she never looks him quite in the eye.

Oh god. She's just like Jolie, wanting to alter everything about him and his appearance. Jack combs a couple fingers protectively over his mustache, then goatee, and the corner of his upper lip pulls upwards. There's reluctance on his face, because more than anything Jack would just like to plainly say sod the Capitol people and their stupid opinions and fussiness towards him. He couldn't care less about them.

But it's not that simple. Not if the pirate wanted to save his skin in the upcoming Arena -- Jolie had made damn sure he was well aware of that bit. Ugh.

" ... Ah. This would mostly be, as you said, for being out in the public eye? Aye?" Because gods above, if Jack had to permanently stuff himself into whatever 'piratey clothes' they conjured up for him, day in and day out, he'd rather let nature take its course in the Arena.

He tries to lean forward, fighting against the couch's fluff, and lifts a finger. "I'd like to keep me hat, regardless of anythin' else."

She doesn't want to change anything! She just wants him to shower and have more than one set of clothing, she doesn't think that's so bad. Swann is biting the lower corner of her lip, waiting for his answer, and she's nervous at his expression.

But then he speaks, and she's unconsciously letting out a breath of relief, her smile returning.

"Of course, of course! I can have Jolie use your existing clothes as a pattern, if you like, so the new ones will be very similar! Just different in fabric, and we'll get you the nicest ones from Eight. Silk, do you like silk? Maybe velvet for the winter. And when your hair is manageable, we can get you new beads for your braids, if you like. Gold and maybe some sapphires? Oh, or emeralds!"

She nods energetically, her ponytail bouncing, when he asks about his hat. "I wouldn't dream of taking it away! But would you be averse to allowing an Avox to clean it? Just once?"

"Silk? Aye, sure, silk would be proper enough."

That didn't sound as bad, if it was all based more on his current set of clothes and not so much on the ridiculous costumes he'd seen the Capitolites wear around this place. And the pirate hadn't quite figured out the showers, yet, or even that they existed, but that would take getting used to. It wasn't common practice for him and his ilk, nor had there ever been much importance placed on it. Fresh water was too precious to waste on that.

"Not entirely too keen on discardin' me beads." As much as she seemed excited at the prospect, most of them had personal or sentimental value to him. His head inclines a touch, brow furrowed. "An 'Avox'?"

"Yes, an Avox," she says, gesturing toward the one in the corner, awaiting orders. "That's what we call the servants here in the Capitol!"

Then she breezes away from that subject and onto the toughest one. "All right, all right. No new beads, as long as you promise me you'll add in fancier ones for special occasions. The people from Eight might like to send you a special bead as a gift, you'd have to wear that. Anyway, I have another question, Jack, sweetie."

She pauses, steeples her fingers and glances around the room before lowering her voice a bit.

"Have you... how often do you shower?"

Jack casts a look over in the direction that Swann gestures, and his brow draws a tick downwards. He's seen them before, of course, standing all around the Suites with their endlessly unnerving silence, their hands tucked together and head respectfully lowered. Something about their presence doesn't sit entirely too well with him, and Jack slips his gaze back to Swann.

"Servants. Yes. Right then." A considering pause, and Jack lifts a finger like he has a much better idea. "Or. P'rhaps, instead, luv, I could do the washing meself. It wouldn't be a bother to me at all." Easier to keep track of his hat with that, of course, and this way the Capitol servants wouldn't have to be involved.

A smile flashes onto his face when she moves onto the beads, and the pirate taps a couple fingers to his hat in acknowledgement. "And I can promise it." It wouldn't be too much of a stretch for him to incorporate them, if it was that important to her. As for her last question?

"Haven't found the means to since I've arrived." Of course, he also hadn't actively sought out a way to, either. There were much more important things to do, like frequent the Central Commons bar.

Swann ignores all the other answers and comments when he talks about not bathing the whole time he's been in the Capitol.

She looks repulsed, although she's trying to hide it at least, because she's never rude in front of people if she can help it. Instead, she quietly gags into her own mouth, then stands and reaches out for his hand. She's taking it whether he wants it taken or not, and pulling him toward the living quarters of the Suite.

"All right, well, we can fix that!" She's still perky, despite her disgust and the fact that she's sure she can feel his dirt and germs crawling onto her skin. "That door off your bedroom? That leads to a place where you can take a shower every day, Jack!"

That place is exactly where she leads him, into a bathroom that shines and glistens from the floor to the ceiling, utterly spotless and beautiful. There's a big walk-in shower, and she more or less shoves him in there.

"So there's knobs on the wall," she says, beginning to pull at his outermost layers with an almost businesslike determination, "and those turn on the water and make it different temperatures. And that shelf has all sorts of nice things to clean yourself with -- one for your body, one for your face, two for your hair. You should use them all, okay, sweetie?"

She has been attempting to forcibly undress him the whole time they've been standing in the shower.

Edited 2015-01-26 20:44 (UTC)

He briefly catches the appalled look, as well as the attempt to mask it from his view, but is ultimately pretty much unfazed by her reaction. He's more or less heard it all, before, from a wide assortment of people -- and has had worse reactions for even worse 'misdeeds'.

There's next to no resistance from the pirate when Swann grabs his hand and drags him off the couch, even less so as she leads him away from the common area and into the living quarters. She's going on about showering daily and Jack is only half-listening the entire time, and at some point in the conversation makes some sort of noncommittal noise in his throat. He'd poked his head into the bathroom on occasion since his arrival, sure, but the walk-in shower itself had been left essentially untouched.

As she starts to busily undress him and chatter about knobs and water temperatures and such, a gradual smirk winds its way into the pirate's expression. The well-worn (and most likely utterly filthy) frock coat that she slips off him is the first on a long list of clothes and adornments that Jack has layered over himself; next would be the sun-faded blue waistcoat, the baldric empty of weapons, then the two leather belts that are strapped over his hips. He doesn't help her do it, but instead lets Swann fuss over him and, in the meanwhile, enjoys all the attention from her -- business-like or not.

It's only until Swann begins to tug the dirty shirt upwards and off him, fast and far enough to nearly reveal the deep, ugly scars that mark up his chest, that Jack softly and smoothly snags both her hands to halt her progress.

"Aye, I'll be sure to do all o' it, luv." A slightly more teasing smile, showcasing the silver and gold in his teeth. "Mind showin' me which is which? An' perhaps how it all works, give me a demonstration?"

She handles his clothing as briefly and sparingly as possible -- by the time he gets out of the shower, all of the garbage he has on will be gone (burned, hopefully), and replaced with nicer, more luxurious, clean versions. Only his hat will survive, and he won't have a chance to wash it himself, because Swann knows an Avox or two who would love to rid their work environment of that level of filth.

Swann's gotten so used to him just letting her go at it that she starts a little when he takes her hands, blinking up at him with big, doelike eyes and an equally in-the-headlights expression. There's a moment where she's too focused on his teeth to answer, and then she yanks her hands away to wring them before reaching for the knobs.

"Okay, um, well -- you might want to move -- you just turn this one." The water sprays on, whether he's moved or not. "And this one, and just sort of adjust them until you find a temperature you like! All the water will just go down the drain on its own."

She turns the water off, then clicks through the draining water to the bath products. "And this is shampoo, you clean your hair with it. Just put some on your hands and then, you know, you work it into your hair and rinse it out. And conditioner, you do the same, that makes your hair soft. The face wash and body wash are labeled, so you know which is which. And then you just grab the towel from that bar when you're done and dry off!"

Her smile has reappeared, seemingly unable to stray from her face for very long. "Got it?"

He doesn't make it away fast enough, and the cool water sprays him for a couple good seconds before the pirate is able to properly dart out of the way -- and it manages to partially soak the back of his linen shirt, either way, giving him a short jolt of cold. That wasn't particularly the outcome the pirate had aimed for with that comment, but all the same.

The smirk on his face softens and fades to something more mild as Swann continues to explain it all in detail, and at the end of it the pirate folds both hands together and grins.

"Aye aye. Clear as a bright, cloudless day, luv. You've been a monumental help."

Whether the pirate actually follows her instructions would remain to be seen. At least he's aware of his options at this point.

"Wonderful," she says, beaming at him, then takes a step backwards, out of the shower, and closes the door, trapping him.

She leans her weight against the frosted glass of the door so that he can't get out without pushing her away, and calls to him. "Now take a shower, Jack. Right now! Just turn on the water and throw your other clothes over the glass!"

She's out before Jack can get a word in edgewise, using herself as a barricade against the door. Of course, it'd be easy enough with his strength to push his way back out and escape from this absurd situation. But, in all honesty, the pirate was intrigued by the shower; back in his time, after a few rough months at sea, generally a quick scrub in local river or lake with freshwater would be sufficient enough to be called clean for the next few weeks. So being able to control not only when the water came out but its temperature, at will, was amazing.

It doesn't stop the nearly inaudible sigh in his throat and slight eye roll, however, because of how apparently and utterly preoccupied the Capitol natives seem to be with his hygiene -- so much so that Swann had to resort to this.

Jack slings off the shirt from his torso, pulls his breeches off, then tosses both over the top for her to deal with. His hand flits across both shower knobs, briefly, then he switches on the hot water. The first couple seconds douse him in a cool splash of water, then it starts to leisurely warm itself up. As it does, the pirate reaches for the collection of bottles that Swann had pointed out to him, popping open the top to the body wash and pouring an overly large amount onto his hand. The consistency of it is ... weird, to say the least, and initially Jack merely uses a finger from his other hand to rub at it and then takes a short sniff of it.

"Oh! Fruity."

Which is about the time the shower decides to finish heating up and turns hot -- causing him to let out a high-pitched yelp -- and a loud, short string of curses -- then yank the cold knob on.

"By all that's great and good, bloody hell."

His clothes fall to the floor, and Swann already has an Avox at the door, one who swoops in to take those clothes away. Far, far away. To the incinerator, maybe.

Once the shower starts up, she gently moves away from the door, taking a seat on a small decorative bench near the door, waiting to ensure that he's not about to run out naked and shrieking from a desire to avoid bathing. The Avox returns with a new set of clothes on a hanger, a silk shirt reminiscent of the one he's discarded, and a pair of tight, brocade trousers, black on black.

"Are you all right, Jack?" she calls, looking at her nails.

A muffled noise comes from somewhere inside the shower, then Jack calls out from it, "Aye, fine as can be. Don't worry yourself about it." Well. Relatively fine. He'd rather not be in this situation to begin with, being essentially babysat and humiliated like this by a Capitolite, but such is his life now. Apparently.

None of which will stop him from adding, "As it happens to be, were you to fancy it, there's more than enough room for two in here." He's already figured it's gonna get him next to nowhere by this point, but Jack will never resist a chance to take a jab.

It'll be a couple minutes later when the water switches off. "D'you have me effects at hand?"

"Jack," she answers, and her tone indicates amused scolding more than anything else. "I'm staff, you're a Tribute. You have to remember that."

When the water turns off, she takes the new outfit provided by the Avox, and cracks the shower door to hand it through, still on the hanger.

"Be sure to dry your hair well, I doubt that style can easily be blow-dried."

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haha beautiful

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