Jet Link | 002 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
metalicarus) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-01-16 01:02 pm
metalicarus) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-16 01:02 pm
Entry tags:
[Open] I fell in love and my love still grows
Who| Jet Link and Open
What| Painting, model cars, dancing and music
Where| The training center, the park, district 2 commons and the roof
When| After the arena but before the crowning
Warnings/Notes| Nothing right now!
Training Center
This was one of those mornings when he'd woken up at seemingly nothing and just couldn't go back to sleep. It didn't happen often, mostly when a nightmare he couldn't remember had infiltrated his sleep, so the best remedy was to go ahead and do something rather than lay around hoping sleep would come to him sometime before he was supposed to get up for breakfast.
What he decided to do with himself was something he was sure none of his mentors or prep team would be overly pleased with, but they weren't around so who cared? Jet made his way down to the Training Center, not in work out clothes, but in something just as plain. Once he got there, he went straight for where he'd found the paints last time. His previous wall-decorations had long since been cleaned up, but that only meant Jet had an entire wall as his canvas once more.
At first, he painted shapes and abstract pictures, then turned to objects -ships, buildings, places he knew from home- then came the faces. It was only the face, like a hyper close-up picture of someone Panem had never seen, but the details were clear and crisp as though Jet were looking at his subjects face as he painted them. Eight faces developed on the wall fast, one woman, one old man, a baby and the rest a group of men ranging from ages 18 to 47 and each a different race from the other. Then more faces appeared as the hours past, these ones perhaps more familiar to anyone who might happen down into the training room. Friends Jet had made over the almost-year he'd been in Panem joined the faces of the family he hadn't seen in ages on the concrete wall.
He stepped back a moment to observe his handiwork and studied each of the faces intently. A moment later saw him returning to the paint canisters and picking one up that he hadn't broken into. It was some deep dark red that nearly seemed brown and soon it was splattered all over the wall as Jet tossed it there. He tried not to hit the faces, just the spaces around them, but paint was paint and it splattered, so he didn't worry too much if some of it got where it wasn't supposed to be.
Unfortunately, that place it wasn't supposed to be might also be someone who'd happened to venture too close to the wall at the time and now found paint on themselves. Jet could only find it in him to be slightly remorseful. He turned towards his poor paint victim and offered half a smile. "Sorry about that, wasn't paying a lot of attention. Guess I should've said 'watch out' or something."
The Park
Once upon a time, Albert had been dealing with regaining his dexterity and Jet had offered him all kinds of model airplanes to help. They had started simple as Albert's ability to lift a pencil and not break it was about the height of his achievement, but as time went on and he got better with his cybernetic hands, Jet had gotten him more and more complex models.
That was how Jet found himself out in the park one day with a model of a car he'd only ever seen in Panem. The engine was different, but similar enough Jet was confident he could figure it out with enough time. He took the model and a bed sheet and cleared the snow from a table in the park so he could work. The bed sheet was turned into a sort of table cloth that Jet set all the small pieces on and went to work. With the snow covering everything, he didn't anticipate the park would see much traffic and it made the whole place seem peaceful, something he'd need as his fight with his own metal hand's dexterity caused the blond endless frustration. He was well aware how funny it might look to see a grown man with a model of a car, especially out in the snow, but luckily there wasn't anyone around right then to question. Jet would just have to hope either his luck would hold out or people would mind their own business if not.
District 2 commons
Jet didn't spend a whole lot of time in District 2 these days. He'd moved most of his stuff back into Albert's room once he'd gained a pass and now that the curfew was lifted, where he was or what he was doing wasn't even a problem anymore. However, Felicity was on this floor and Jessica was not and, right now, District 3's mentor was making staying on that floor very difficult. Bottles of booze didn't bother Jet as a rule, but when there were that many and he knew they all belonged to one person, it made him uncomfortable in a way most things didn't. He'd go back when it was time for bed but, for now, he was going to hide out on the floor that should be his.
But apart from the thing with Jessica, Jet was feeling pretty damn good that day. Yes, nothing had changed over all, they were still trapped in endless death arenas and caught under the thumb of a dictator, but he also had his friends in decent enough health, he was married to the man of his dreams, and strictly speaking, things were not overly insane right this moment. It left him in a better mood than he'd felt in a while. With no one (noticeably) around in the commons while he was there making himself some lunch, Jet let himself relax. Relaxing led to a tune running through his head, one he hadn't heard in a while, but the words sprung from his memory like he'd only heard it the other day. One thing led to another and soon a decent rendition of runaround Sue was serenading District 2's commons, complete with graceful and out-of-period dance moves performed by the blond singing. Yeah, it was all sixties but right that moment, a parade of peacekeepers could have gone through the commons and Jet would have kept up his performance with no shame.
The Roof
It's chilly, but the sunlight keeps everything a little warmer than it should be when Jet makes his way up there. For once, it seemed, there wasn't anyone else up there with him, something he was sure would change given enough time. But since there was no one there right then he let himself find a perch on a bench (his feet on the bench part while he sat on the back of the thing itself) and pull the harmonica out from one of his jacket's pockets. He'd found it on accident while he'd been out in the city and as soon as he found it was the exact same instrument he'd first learned how to play years back, he'd instantly gotten it for himself. A little bit of home in the middle of the insanity that was Panem. Jet brought the instrument to his mouth and gave it an experimental blow to test the sound. Moments later, the roof was washed in the slow almost sad sounds of a harmonica. The song finished out before switching to something more peppy -sort of, 'Home on the range' as Jet knew it was still kinda slow- and switched again to something else when that was done. He'd go through his whole repertoire of songs if left to his own devices, or at least until it got too cold to stay in one place anymore.
What| Painting, model cars, dancing and music
Where| The training center, the park, district 2 commons and the roof
When| After the arena but before the crowning
Warnings/Notes| Nothing right now!
Training Center
This was one of those mornings when he'd woken up at seemingly nothing and just couldn't go back to sleep. It didn't happen often, mostly when a nightmare he couldn't remember had infiltrated his sleep, so the best remedy was to go ahead and do something rather than lay around hoping sleep would come to him sometime before he was supposed to get up for breakfast.
What he decided to do with himself was something he was sure none of his mentors or prep team would be overly pleased with, but they weren't around so who cared? Jet made his way down to the Training Center, not in work out clothes, but in something just as plain. Once he got there, he went straight for where he'd found the paints last time. His previous wall-decorations had long since been cleaned up, but that only meant Jet had an entire wall as his canvas once more.
At first, he painted shapes and abstract pictures, then turned to objects -ships, buildings, places he knew from home- then came the faces. It was only the face, like a hyper close-up picture of someone Panem had never seen, but the details were clear and crisp as though Jet were looking at his subjects face as he painted them. Eight faces developed on the wall fast, one woman, one old man, a baby and the rest a group of men ranging from ages 18 to 47 and each a different race from the other. Then more faces appeared as the hours past, these ones perhaps more familiar to anyone who might happen down into the training room. Friends Jet had made over the almost-year he'd been in Panem joined the faces of the family he hadn't seen in ages on the concrete wall.
He stepped back a moment to observe his handiwork and studied each of the faces intently. A moment later saw him returning to the paint canisters and picking one up that he hadn't broken into. It was some deep dark red that nearly seemed brown and soon it was splattered all over the wall as Jet tossed it there. He tried not to hit the faces, just the spaces around them, but paint was paint and it splattered, so he didn't worry too much if some of it got where it wasn't supposed to be.
Unfortunately, that place it wasn't supposed to be might also be someone who'd happened to venture too close to the wall at the time and now found paint on themselves. Jet could only find it in him to be slightly remorseful. He turned towards his poor paint victim and offered half a smile. "Sorry about that, wasn't paying a lot of attention. Guess I should've said 'watch out' or something."
The Park
Once upon a time, Albert had been dealing with regaining his dexterity and Jet had offered him all kinds of model airplanes to help. They had started simple as Albert's ability to lift a pencil and not break it was about the height of his achievement, but as time went on and he got better with his cybernetic hands, Jet had gotten him more and more complex models.
That was how Jet found himself out in the park one day with a model of a car he'd only ever seen in Panem. The engine was different, but similar enough Jet was confident he could figure it out with enough time. He took the model and a bed sheet and cleared the snow from a table in the park so he could work. The bed sheet was turned into a sort of table cloth that Jet set all the small pieces on and went to work. With the snow covering everything, he didn't anticipate the park would see much traffic and it made the whole place seem peaceful, something he'd need as his fight with his own metal hand's dexterity caused the blond endless frustration. He was well aware how funny it might look to see a grown man with a model of a car, especially out in the snow, but luckily there wasn't anyone around right then to question. Jet would just have to hope either his luck would hold out or people would mind their own business if not.
District 2 commons
Jet didn't spend a whole lot of time in District 2 these days. He'd moved most of his stuff back into Albert's room once he'd gained a pass and now that the curfew was lifted, where he was or what he was doing wasn't even a problem anymore. However, Felicity was on this floor and Jessica was not and, right now, District 3's mentor was making staying on that floor very difficult. Bottles of booze didn't bother Jet as a rule, but when there were that many and he knew they all belonged to one person, it made him uncomfortable in a way most things didn't. He'd go back when it was time for bed but, for now, he was going to hide out on the floor that should be his.
But apart from the thing with Jessica, Jet was feeling pretty damn good that day. Yes, nothing had changed over all, they were still trapped in endless death arenas and caught under the thumb of a dictator, but he also had his friends in decent enough health, he was married to the man of his dreams, and strictly speaking, things were not overly insane right this moment. It left him in a better mood than he'd felt in a while. With no one (noticeably) around in the commons while he was there making himself some lunch, Jet let himself relax. Relaxing led to a tune running through his head, one he hadn't heard in a while, but the words sprung from his memory like he'd only heard it the other day. One thing led to another and soon a decent rendition of runaround Sue was serenading District 2's commons, complete with graceful and out-of-period dance moves performed by the blond singing. Yeah, it was all sixties but right that moment, a parade of peacekeepers could have gone through the commons and Jet would have kept up his performance with no shame.
The Roof
It's chilly, but the sunlight keeps everything a little warmer than it should be when Jet makes his way up there. For once, it seemed, there wasn't anyone else up there with him, something he was sure would change given enough time. But since there was no one there right then he let himself find a perch on a bench (his feet on the bench part while he sat on the back of the thing itself) and pull the harmonica out from one of his jacket's pockets. He'd found it on accident while he'd been out in the city and as soon as he found it was the exact same instrument he'd first learned how to play years back, he'd instantly gotten it for himself. A little bit of home in the middle of the insanity that was Panem. Jet brought the instrument to his mouth and gave it an experimental blow to test the sound. Moments later, the roof was washed in the slow almost sad sounds of a harmonica. The song finished out before switching to something more peppy -sort of, 'Home on the range' as Jet knew it was still kinda slow- and switched again to something else when that was done. He'd go through his whole repertoire of songs if left to his own devices, or at least until it got too cold to stay in one place anymore.
no subject
Actually, Albert had every right to not trust Jet's plans if he'd already figured them out, he'd suffered one too many of Jet's culinary attempts. There was a reason Jet was normally banned from making anything that required heat. But this time was different, Jet would make sure of it.
"Just bare with me, alright?"
no subject
Right?
With an air of foreboding, Albert opens the door to the D3 suites and steps aside to let Jet in, hoping to high heaven that at the very least whatever his husband concocts isn't poisonous.
no subject
Except Albert had wanted a fancy dinner and Jet knew whatever he made was going to be passable at best, this wasn't a good idea, he should just cut his losses and let them go out and actually enjoy the night.
But Sam had taught him enough right? Maybe it wouldn't be much, but it'd be something! He knew how to make potatoes decently and what he'd learned about heating and seasoning could be transferred to other things. Maybe Bruce had some steaks kept somewhere, it seemed he had everything the world could offer tucked away on D3's floor, so it shouldn't be impossible. They hadn't actually cooked any meat, but they'd talked about preparing other things and--
--and what if he ended up giving Albert food poisoning or making him sick some other way or who knew what, but if something could go wrong in the kitchen, Jet was notoriously good at finding and executing it.
Goddammit.
He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore his own thoughts as he started to move about the kitchen and pull out the things he needed.
"Just sit down and read a book or something."
He could do this...he just needed to not freak himself out or rush it. It'd be fine...
no subject
He keeps his ears open though, afraid he'll hear sounds of chaos start up in the kitchen. He's ready to run to the rescue if need be and knows exactly where the fire extinguisher is, even if the ceiling sprinklers will likely kick on first.
no subject
"Goddammit." He muttered moodily to himself and moved to do that. He was already screwing this up and he hadn't even started yet.
But he wouldn't let himself be discouraged, he was going to do this. He took a breath and rearranged everything so it was in order of what he should work on next. "Hey...Al, think you could find some music to throw on? Doesn't matter what." He just needed some background noise or he was going to fluster himself too much and burn the place down.
no subject
"Music?" Well, he can fulfill that request at least. He leans over the end table with its built in knobs for the sound system and fiddles with them until something comes through the speakers. He has to fiddle more to get anything besides Games recaps and predictions for the next Arena, but after a few irritating minutes he manages to land on some wordless jazz, the kind of saxophone noodling one would find in a smokey underground club where people wear sunglasses even in the dim cast of the fake Tiffany style lamps. "How's this?"
no subject
He started with carefully chopping up the potatoes he'd grabbed and threw some seasoning on them before putting them on a pan that went into the oven. That seemed all right, at least. He was about to move on with the next thing but jolted to a stop to put on a timer for the oven: that was the most important thing, the key to not burning everything he touched like usual.
Timer set and food starting to cook, Jet turned to the saucepan, pouring a layer of oil into it to keep the meat from sticking. Once the oil had started snapping and popping, he threw the first steak on and hoped to god he didn't ruin it. This wasn't a timer kind of thing. His eyes darting over to the stove every five seconds to ensure the meat wasn't burning, Jet fished for some fruit and bread out of the fridge and set them aside. At least those he didn't have to do much with except put on a plate. Cutting bread he could do.
He sighed to himself, tense and watching everything like a hawk, he suddenly realized why he didn't like cooking beyond just not being able to do it: it was really stressful. Luckily, he didn't have a whole lot longer to wait.
The timer went off and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Quickly, he turned off the oven and saved the potatoes from being overcooked before returning his attention to the steak -now onto the second cut with only mild self-injury. A few, tiny, drops of oil jumping onto his hand as he moved the meat around was nothing compared to his track record and it was certainly better than a full splash to his eyes.
With the last steak cooking, Jet pulled out plates and dressed them up, putting generous portions of everything he'd prepared or grabbed onto it. He took a worried moment to check the pan before darting out into the dinging room to set the plates out and darting back to finish with the main dish. Once it was finally done and safely off the heat and onto it's own plate, he took both cuts out to the table to join the other plates. He hesitated, staring at them a moment, they didn't look half bad...hell, they kind look decent and he hadn't really forgotten anything and, better yet, they had a dinner to eat. Hopefully the taste would be half decent as well.
"H-hey...dinner's ready. Um...what do you want to drink?" To be honest, he was waiting for the food on the plates to just suddenly deflate and rot where it lay just because he'd been the one to make it. So far, nothing.
no subject
When Jet calls out that dinner's ready Albert looks up readily, dog-earring his page and setting the book aside as he rises to join Jet at the table with growing surprise that he has a hard time suppressing.
It actually looks good. For all his talents Jet has never been anything other than a disaster in the kitchen. Once GB had commented that the American could probably burn cereal and gotten a box of Frosted Flakes lobbed at his head, and yet here are two medium steaks, a bowl of fruit salad, and steaming baked potatoes with the fixings scattered among the other dishes to use as they pleased.
Heaven on a table, and his own personal angel had made it for him.
Instead of answering Jet's question right away or tasting their delicious looking dinner, Albert instead goes for a taste of Jet's lips first, touched that Jet had gone through the trouble of learning just to put this together.
no subject
When they pulled away, Jet offered half a smile. "Was that a thank you kiss or an 'I might die so this is it' kiss? Either way, you didn't answer." He kissed Albert's cheek and pulled out the chair that was for his husband before retreating back into the kitchen to see what their drinking options even were.
no subject
"Red wine. I'm not sure exactly what there is, but I know there's a bottle." He sits in the chair thoughtfully pulled out for him and surveys the spread again, taking a deep sniff of the food and letting the savory aroma fill his nostrils. Exactly what he wanted, but ten times better because of who'd made it.
Perfect.