Staffer's Retreat

[whatisay]

WHO| Every Escort, Stylist and Mentor. Any Capitolites or Peacekeepers who might have reason to oversee or visit.
WHAT| A professional retreat for the overworked, underpaid, and super underappreciated Tribute Care Teams.
WHERE| A chalet in District One, easily accessible by train.
WHEN| Before the next death roll.
WARNINGS| Typical Capitolites being entitled asshats.
NOTES| I've put up some subthreads for various activities, if you want to add more just do so under the appropriate day subheader!

Staffer's Retreat. Mandatory. The teams for each District are given a handful of days to prepare for the weekend, which, they're told, is going to be scheduled for a weekend with no big shake-ups in the Arena and perfect weather for outdoor activities. On Friday morning, they're taken by train to a small chalet tucked into a mountainside. A few inches of snow covers the ground but the sky is clear, reflected in the beautiful lake at the base of the mountain.

Until Sunday evening, their days will be packed with "professional development". The schedule looks something like this:

Friday:
Icebreakers
Trust Falls
Hypothetical Scenarios: How to Be the First Person Chosen for a Bomb Shelter
Three-Legged Race
Self-Care Hour: Mandatory Yoga
Dinner
Breaking Down Stereotypes Workshop

Saturday:
Mandatory Mentor Group Therapy: PTSD is Not An Excuse
Mandatory Escort/Stylist Workshop: Building Trust with Your Tributes
Mandatory Sexual Harassment Training: Focus on Tribute/Mentor and Tribute/Escort Relationships
Lunch
Capture-the-Flag
Group Lego-Building
Dinner
12am Karaoke

Sunday:
5:30am Continental Breakfast
Compliment Circle
Journal Hour
Farewells

Comments

[reallynow]

This is, by far, the dumbest activity of the retreat. Dumber than trust falling or sharing feelings, that's for sure. And yet, it's the stupidity of it that makes Jolie all the more determined when she glances at her victim partner.

"Look, there's no way we're not going to be terrible at this, but everyone is terrible so we're in with a chance." That was impossibly motivational and it's punctuated with a most dazzling smile.

From then on Jolie will proceed to play in a discreetly underhanded manner until she and Linden climb their three-legged way to victory.

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden thinks that all of this is tremendously dumb, but a three-legged race absolutely takes the proverbial cake. That much, at least, he and Jolie can agree on. Even if Jolie is decidedly more optimistic about it than the undernourished and unhealthy District 6 Mentor, who is hungover, grumpy, and just barely on his feet.

An advantage that Jolie has is that he's strikingly underweight, so if he passes out, she can probably haul him across the finish line relatively easily.

"I'm from District 6," he drawls, leaning over to adjust the tie around their ankles. His is so bone-thin that there's no way it'll ever be comfortable. "We're sort of used to being terrible at things, at least by Capitol standards. I've already resigned myself to the most likely outcome, making me effectively immune to disappointment. Incidentally, that's also a great way to approach the Hunger Games."

[reallynow]

Jolie isn't the most powerfully built drag queen, so it's a little telling when it becomes evident that she could easily drag Linden from here to the end without getting an eyelash askew. She makes a note to come at him with a smoothie later, but only if they win.

"That was..inspiring." Jolie remarks in a sullen voice, watching Linden as he exercises futility and adjusts the tie before giving him a nudge to indicate the fact that he should probably stand to attention. "I'm not above dragging you over the finish line if it gets me a step closer to hitting the bar." See, look, they're both full of inspiring words.

"We just need to move in unison or whatever and if we don't die we'll come off looking really good." She says that, and then the race starts and she's not really sure what to do.

[dead_black_eyes]

It's telling and admittedly somewhat pitiful. It's a little expected of Victors to let themselves go a little as the years continue their horrible march onward, but Linden's taken it, like many things, to the point of rampant excess. He substitutes drugs and alcohol for actually nutritious calories very frequently, and the result is a man who's pared down to the barest essentials and scarcely standing as a result.

"It's my job as a Victor to inspire," he replies flatly, Jolie's sarcasm not lost on him. "But if you want to win, whatever. I'll give it my best; ultimately, I just want it to be over."

They're clearly getting so much out of this retreat.

He grits his teeth, stumbling at the race start when Jolie seems not to immediately have a plan in place. "I'm counting," he says authoritatively, starting forward. "The free legs on one, the bound ones on 2. One, two!"

[reallynow]

"Wouldn't want to compromise your winning streak, right?" She offers him a sly but overall friendly smile. She isn't about to go all pity party on him, but he looks like he could use a win. Mostly, she wants to show these motherfuckers that their games are stupid and pointless.

Luckily, Linden seems more acutely aware of just how to do that. She lets out a nervous laugh when it becomes apparent that she doesn't know anything about how to do this despite her previous determination. It surprises her that Linden does, in fact, know better and she decides she would rather comply than fall on her face.

"Thank god one of us can." She quips, but she prepares to move. "Alright, one, two, let's go." When he starts, she'll start as well.

[dead_black_eyes]

He gives her a blank stare at the mention of a "winning streak"; as far as he knows or considers, his winning streak ended right after he won his Hunger Games, and it's all been downhill from there. The sentiment isn't a cruel one, though, and while he doesn't return her smile, his answering expression is, at least, not openly hostile or cold.

As long as Jolie follows his steady, brisk movements with the reliable rhythm he's established, they'll make slower but steady progress, and quickly outstrip those who started too eagerly and promptly toppled over. Ultimately, they seem to be taking the most rational approach to the race, and it's paying off nicely.

[reallynow]

Jolie pulls a face that reads a little like whoops for what appears to be an unfunny comment, but she's more focused on making progress through this snow and crap.

Every time someone falls, Jolie can't resist jeering as they pass their fallen bodies with their steady pace. It's hilarious, alright? She tries not to let her laughter distract her too much, but she can't help a passing comment or two. "Poor fools." She waves at one, she's enjoying this too much.

"Shit, we're almost there. Pray those bitches trip, pal."

[dead_black_eyes]

Jolie might be a jeerer, but Linden remains largely silent. As a Victor, it wears on something deeper than bone to see even mild versions of what he experienced in his Games, the way bodies hit the ground, sometimes lying still immediately, sometimes taking a little while. He ignores Jolie's laughter, setting his jaw and keeping his eyes focused forward.

"I don't pray," he says grimly as they approach the finish line. "Of everything you can possibly do for yourself in this world, it helps the least."

[reallynow]

"Being pedantic does so much more, I'm sure." Jolie can't help rolling her eyes for that little PSA, but her focus is on following this through. "Luckily for both of us, it was a figure of speech."

She clicks her tongue, but even their low-key bickering isn't enough to compromise the fact that victory is pretty much in their hands at this point. Finally, after what feels like forever just wobbling awkwardly through snow, they cross the finish line.

"Woohoo!" She exclaims with a fist pump. "I have never been more excited about something I couldn't care less about. Good game, champ. I owe you a drink." She winks at him, leaning down to try struggle with the ankle ties.

[dead_black_eyes]

"Great", is his frigid and terse response as they continue forward in their lopsided but steady and decently coordinated quest. If he feels lucky, he doesn't indicate it, just doggedly presses forward. Now that he has his sights on winning, they might as well; it might give him, at least for a few minutes, some kind of high, and anyone who knows anything about Linen knows that highs are one of the few things he is known to reliably chase after.

After they've won, though, Jolie's excitement just serves as a contrast swatch for his languid disappointment. Like so many things, he'd thought it would be better.

"Yeah," he decides, after a long silence while Jolie works at the ankle ties. "A drink sounds good. I could go for one, or five."