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

[whatisay]

When he hits Torin and Swann's arms, he's honestly braced to smack his head into concrete and wake up in a hospital. He's mentally racking up a list of injustices it'll be if he dies or gets serious brain damage after such a lackluster thirty-five years, and then there's a 'whumpfh' of air from his chest and his teeth clack together and all three of them end up on the ground.

He's a little stunned, to tell the truth, and so he probably spends a second or two too long looking up at Swann's radiant face, flushed with the winter air, as if trying to figure out what it is or decide if he should stay cushioned in her petticoats.

"And apparently you two were the only ones," he says, trying to sit up without getting snow and muck on Swann's skirt because that's probably expensive and dammit, why she's wearing white on a day where there'll be outdoor activities? Why, out of an entire crowd of healthy people, were his only saviors a girl who has more in common with a cockatiel than a human being and a guy who probably needs a machine to open jars for him?

He gets to his feet and holds a hand out for Torin, looking at the expectant look on Swann's face. "Obliged."

[bravelyplucked]

Torin takes that hand and gives Jason a nod. "No one needs to get hurt in this absurdity." He's not at all happy to be here, either. "Though it might be an easy way to get a ticket back to the city..."

He turns to Swann. "And thank you for the assist--I don't think I could have caught him safely without it."

[cigne]

"Oh, you're welcome!" she tells Torin, getting up and not really caring that she's dirty now. It's a luxury, to live in a world of whites and pastels, and never even notice when something is ruined with filth because it can always be replaced. She dusts off her front and smiles at him, hands clasped in front of herself. "It's all about teamwork, right?"

Jason gets a look like maybe Swann is restraining herself from double-checking him, from just reassuring herself that he didn't actually get hurt because the two people who caught him were perhaps the least qualified of the bunch. "Are we all okay? No one injured, right?"

[whatisay]

"Here I was thinking it was all about courting a lawsuit." He hoists Torin up relatively easily; it's not like the guy's terribly heavy. Jason figures he could be a worse sort of person, coming from District Two, although Jason still wants to wash his hands a bit afterwards. He doesn't want to feel like he owes a debt to someone from one of the Districts, even if they're naturalized now.

Jason, recognizing that look Swann has on her face as one his mother occasionally gives him, resists rolling his eyes and then holds his palms slightly out. "I'm fine. No better or worse than usual."

[bravelyplucked]

Torin nods his thanks as he dusts himself off, and he shakes his head at the question of injury. "I'm fine. I've had much worse."

He glances back towards the platform. "Seems like there would be a better way to start us all off..."

[cigne]

Swann looks excited and still terribly pleased overall, and she rubs her hands together, white gloves a bit dingy on the palms from when she got off the ground.

"No, this is good, Torin! This builds trust, it shows we can all work together as staff! Because even if our Tributes are fighting it out, we have to remember that we're all one team, keeping the Games in order."

[whatisay]

"Mmhmm. And that's why eleven Escorts get humiliated at the end of each Arena and one of them gets the glory," Jason says, returning his hands to his pockets more out of habit than from the cold air that's smacking away at his face. He didn't bring gloves, a decision he's now regretting and, with no one but himself to blame, is using as an excuse to hate the cold weather all the more.

[bravelyplucked]

"It is a competition, true, but there is something to be said for good sportsmanship." Torin looks back at the platform. "There is also something to be said for not hurting ourselves unnecessarily." It's clear he doesn't think the fall was really something any of them needed to go through. "There's got to be a better way to build trust."

[cigne]

"Well, they probably should have put down cushions," Swann concedes. "But it's not a competition for us! We can help, but at the end, if one of the Gamemakers' moves puts down your Tributes, it doesn't mean you failed at your job, right? It's Torin's job to teach them, and it's my job and Jason's to get them Sponsors. We all just have to work hard and hope luck is on our side, and be united at keeping the Tributes out of trouble!"

[whatisay]

"Sure it does. It means your Tribute's not exciting enough for them to want them as a winner. Entirely your fault," Jason says, flip and rude as ever. "But I can get behind keeping them out of trouble. I'm waiting for the day they try to murder us in our sleep, because they think it's their Escorts and Stylists behind everything they complain about."