thecapitol | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh, but you look nice!" she counters, looking pleased, hands clasped excitedly in front of her chest. "And isn't it nice to have clean clothes and a shower and everything? I bet you feel so refreshed."

It does not concern her that he's uncomfortable in his new clothes. He's suddenly sprayed with cologne, and then she's fluttering out of the bathroom, still talking.

"And see, now, I can send you on camera to talk to people yourself! That's the best way to get Sponsorship, is to let your personality be seen by the viewers."

She breezes past his last comment and continues on with that perpetual perkiness of hers to Jack's exasperation. He's still trying to readjust the pants when the pirate flashes quick but mild smile at her. "Aye, sure, fresh as the first blush of morning sun."

In all truth, the shower hadn't been bad at all. He hadn't felt this clean in ... well, ever, honestly, since bathing options in the 18th century were pretty limited. And the peculiar products she'd had him use had not only helped to wash the months (and months) old grime from his body, but smelled somewhat pleasant.

Not that being summarily stripped and shoved into the shower -- or losing his clothes -- had been his favorite way of going about it, and it'd definitely take a more conscious effort to break the old habit of not bothering to bathe himself regularly.

As Jack places the tricorne back atop his head, she flitters by to spritz him with some sort of strong perfume that immediately has him gagging and scrunching up his face. "Oi! Bloody hell, woman, warn me first." A couple waves of his hand to dissipate the stink, and Jack swaggers his way behind her and out of the bathroom.

"On camera?" By the tone, it's not a 'do I have to' at all, but more of a 'what the hell is that'.

She again ignores his unhappiness, this time at the cologne, and just keeps going.

"Uh-huh! You'll be on with Caesar before the next Arena, everyone is, and I'll get you a spot on Panem Nightly, too, at least a little featurette or something. Maybe I can book you for something on the Yesteryear Channel, you can be a talking head on a pirate-themed special."

Swann maybe doesn't pick up on the idea that someone wouldn't know what a camera is.

She's going about a mile a minute with everything, while Jack is still trying to figure out what any of this means, particularly the camera part. He tries his best to catch up with her and cut off her walking, a hand held up. "-- Hold up and slow it down, luv."

His other hand quickly joins the first one. "What are you on about, exactly? What is any of that? What's a camera?" By the context, it sounds like he's going to be up on some theater stage talking to people about himself.

Stopping in her tracks, brow knit deeply, Swann peers up at him, then starts ticking things off on her fingers. She really needs him to start picking this all up quicker if they're going to get anything done before the Arena starts.

"Um, okay. You need to build up a fan base, you do that mostly with interviews. Caesar is Caesar Flickerman, he's like, the most important talk show host in Panem. The Yesteryear Channel is a channel all about stuff that happened in the past. And a camera is... like, okay, so a camera can record everything you and I are saying so that it can be replayed later. So say you wanted to watch a play, but the show was already done? If a camera had been around, you could just watch what it recorded. That's basically a movie."

The last bit doesn't help because what even is a movie, but the rest paints a nice little picture. Well. Sort of. Recording picture and the like all sounds a lot like completely absurd nonsense to him, but after poking around the Tribute Center for awhile, Jack is sure the Capitol has found a way to make it possible.

"Right then." One hand drops, but on his other hand his fingers fold so that he's only lifting his index to make his next point. "What's this about a 'pirate-themed special', exactly?" Because while Jack hadn't yet corrected her on it, there was still hesitation on his part on acknowledging it in full. Call it old habit and self-preservation fueled paranoia, because even associating one's self with a known pirate, in his time, could end in a hanging.

"Oh, well, it would be a special show created to tell the history of the pirates! And their adventures and all the interesting things that they -- you -- did!"

If Jack has learned anything about the Capitolites, he should not be surprised to learn that they have entirely romanticized many aspects of history, including pirates. Everything is a soap opera for them.

"It would be so fascinating to have perspective from someone who was really there, everyone would love to hear your stories."

Oh, it's no surprise to him. Swann has already casually thrown around the word pirate enough times like it was nothing, and the cheerful way she continued to talk about it cemented, to him, how little it must mean here.

Couple that all with the fact that he's slated to most likely die anyways in this stupid Arena of theirs, what was the harm. Particularly because Jack liked to talk about himself and tell his stories. And particularly because these Capitolites probably weren't expecting to hear the more unsavory, raunchy, and gory bits to a pirate's daily life.

"As it would be. I wouldn't mind doing it, luv."

She beams at him and reaches for his forearms, grabbing them happily.

"Thank you, Jack. We're going to make a really good team, and you're going to do really well in the Arena, I just know you are! People are going to be rooting for you!"

He lets her grab at him with no complaint, and merely returns the excitement with a smile.

"I'm sure of it. And that's the hope, luv."

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

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