thecapitol | You make me smile with my heart

Entry tags:

You make me smile with my heart

Who| Everyone in the Capitol is welcome
What| Swann is way into holidays. Like... very into them.
Where| Central Commons aka the lobby
When| VALENTINE'S DAY
Warnings/Notes| Swann being Swann, you will be forcibly loved

Swann looks significantly better than she has over the past two weeks, when she was practically gaunt with exhaustion and not eating well. But now, she looks as happy and glowing as she did the first day she walked into Tribute Tower -- her skin is porcelain and perfect and devoid of lines and dark circles. Her hair falls in perfect curls around her face, a heart braided into the back of her head.

And she's perfectly perky again, as if she never stopped being a chirping ball of sunshine.

This is because she's spent the past three days "working from home". While her Tributes in the Arena have never gone without, it is very clear that she was working on... well, not Games work, really.

There's a table of sweets and decorations, all beautiful and immaculate and homemade. Hanging from the ceilings are little handcrafted packets of sweets. They're free for the taking, as Swann flutters around, all smiles and mingling, chatting up the few media members and fans around.

Sometimes a girl just needs to spend some time baking and doing crafts.

From a district whose Escorts don't let you indulge (ahem One and Two, and also poor Seven)? No worries. This morning, every District received a large basket of fresh, homemade chocolate covered strawberries and cake pops, along with little individually addressed cards, reminiscent of the ones children give out in school.

Except fancier and more glittery and signed with a swirly S.H.

Come and get you some Valentine's Day, people.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

It's the weekend, there's no school, and mom has given Felicity something very important to do. With an subtle wink, she said that someone had to go and take Uncle Torin the hat that he had forgotten when he had stopped by the previous evening. It would be such an imposition, but surely she could trust her darling girl to do it?

Pfffff, this wasn't an imposition, this was an opportunity. A chance to get up close and personal with some Tributes and to see how they are in their downtime and to research. It's very important to research when you're writing things. Though from the moment she passes security and walks into the central commons, she's too boggled to really be observing very much.

"Woah..." That much pastel confectionery is like a magnet to a teenaged girl with an impossible sweet tooth. Eyes wide, she scoots on over and hovers at the edge of the table, fingers arched and ready to grasp at things, but not sure if she should be grasping at them.

Jason doesn't even realize it's Valentine's Day until a few hours in, when Lorraine sends him a flurry of scandalous texts that he reads, appreciates, and instantly deletes without responding to. He uses that as a springboard to add some seasonal flair to the thank you notes he has to send to Sponsors, to the ones he knows are happily married, recommendations for restaurants he can't afford to eat at but can sing the praises of.

After he's done that, he allows himself to go gather some sweets from the basket. He's always had a bit of a fondness for candy, even if he restricts the intake now to keep his figure. He takes a cakepop and a handful of strawberries and goes to sit at the living room couch with his network device.

He sends Swann a text. S.H. - no Marisol?

Swann tends to actually be wary of teenage girl fans, when she finds herself face-to-face with them. They don't really have money to be Sponsors, for one, and they're generally unmanageable around the Tributes.

Luckily, most of them are still in the Arena.

No matter how Swann feels about specific fan groups, she's all smiles as she flits by, a pink dog wearing a Cupid costume at her feet. "Oh, you can have some!" she says, waving gently in the girl's direction. "It's free for the taking!"

When her phone buzzes, Swann is just sort of standing idly by her table, waiting out a lull in the crowd by delicately rearranging cupcakes and macarons to cover up the gaps where the treats have been picked at. She grabs her phone and heads for a nearby chair.

She was expecting a Sponsor, but what she finds takes her by surprise and makes her smile. As she texts back, Marcel hops up next to her to settle down for a nap.

We don't all feel the need to use our full name all the time, JC4.

if i were using my full name it would be JBRC4

He considers adding an emoticon to that, but decides that's something for people much more ebullient than he considers himself. Swann will pick up on the tone, he trusts. She knows him better than just about anyone here.

He finishes off the cake pop and puts in an order on his pad for more food for each of his Tributes. It won't arrive until later today, and against his better fortune he hopes that one of his Tributes will die before then so he can use the money on something else. Keeping six alive in the Arena is a task. The budget's straining and whimpering like wet wood in a cold snap.

Mother always told me sending thank you texts was rude. come to d7

His text makes her laugh a little, and she sends him a picture of a cat sticking its tongue out before his second text arrives.

Leaving the table is easy, because everything was meant for the taking anyway. Swann scoops up Marcel and her purse and a larger tote that usually carries paperwork, then takes the elevator up to the seventh floor, her finger almost hitting the button for eight just out of habit.

She walks in cautiously, looking around. It suddenly occurs to her that she's never been in another District's suite, and she looks over the similarities and differences for a moment before moving toward the living room.

"Jason?"

"Welcome to the illustrious District Seven suite, Swann." He looks up when she comes in, at how the sunlight hitting her outfit seems to cast the whole room in pink, as if it just radiates from her very being. The Suite is humble, with some cursory attempts to theme it like a log cabin, with a large fireplace and plaid couches. Jason thinks it looks like a cheap bed and breakfast, the kind that they wouldn't have within a mile of most of the Capitol.

"Coffee's on the counter, if you want any. You had breakfast yet?" He glances down the hallway. "It's a quiet morning. Cassian's already at the gym like I put him up to."

Eight's Suite is a little more detailed, looking more like a large industrial loft, with bright draperies on the wall and mod furniture everywhere. The layouts are similar, though, and Swann thinks that it's sort of cute the way Seven has a wooden cuckoo clock on the wall where Eight has a replica of the clock from the tower in the real District Eight.

"I've had like three cupcakes this morning," she says, setting Marcel down in the kitchen (he just wanders into the living room and under a couch, indignant that there's no dog bed for him here), and pours herself some coffee. She takes a lot of sugar in her coffee. "Joel is probably still holed up in his room. He won't talk to me at all."

"His loss. If he can't tolerate you, just imagine how much he'd enjoy my company."

By contrast, Jason's coffee is black, and he alternates it with the vaporizer, which he didn't use in Swann's place because he didn't want to fill up the sugary-smelling air of her home with the scent of medicinal camphor. He doesn't care about it in the Suite. He's got a bit of a wince going on - this headache's going to come for him sooner rather than later, no matter how much he tries to stave it off.

"You can take a seat. The couches are hideous but they're comfortable enough." Jason kicks his feet up onto the table. "Just thought if you had a moment you might want company for breakfast, but if you've already eaten I won't impose."

"I get the feeling it's not personal," she says, clutching her coffee mug with both hands as she comes to sit down next to him, setting her bags on the floor at her feet. "He seems to hate everyone."

She beams at him and lets her coffee rest on her knees. "No, I'm glad you asked me up! Otherwise I would have had to come find you."

Reaching down into the tote with one hand, she pulls out a fairly large box, gift-wrapped in pink ombre paper with a matching gift tag and a lot of white ribbon, and hands it to him.

"Happy Valentine's Day!"

"Damn, and here I was thinking I was in good company. Now I've got to share it with Joel."

His eyebrows raise in honest shock when she pulls a gift out. Even knowing Swann and her propensity to lavish people she likes with material goods, even being someone who's used that same strategy himself to buy affection he feels he can trust as part of a contract, a gift was the last thing from her mind. And so the next words out of his mouth are stunned blunt.

"I'm not your valentine, Swann."

Her face falls so abruptly that it would be almost comical if she didn't look so sad and confused. Still lamely holding the gift out to him, her hands start to quiver, adrenaline and unhappiness flooding her as suddenly as if a dog had snapped and scared her.

"It's... it's just a present," she says quietly, putting the gift on the table from fear of dropping it. "I didn't mean... it was just something I thought you'd like."

Her coffee threatens to spill into her lap from shaking, until she moves her other hand to hold at the mug, steadying it somewhat.

"No, I just-" He exhales deep and rubs his hands over his face, palms as if they were pages of a book. He shouldn't have said that, even though it's true, he's never had a valentine and it hasn't occurred to him that Swann would even be considered for it.

And so he does something that's rare to him, says a word that so rarely comes honestly to his tongue. "Sorry. I didn't mean that. I didn't mean anything by it. I just didn't realize it was a day to give thing to your-" well, even if he isn't sure if she's he's friend he guesses it makes sense that she thinks he's one of hers, "to your friends."

He reaches over to take the package. "What I meant to say is 'thank you'."

"Oh."

It's really all she says as she visibly tries to recover from her instinct to cry or flee, to just not feel hurt from the immediacy with which he said it, like he thought she was so desperate to be attached to him.

"Well... well, I guess some people don't? I just... like giving presents. You're welcome."

She takes a drink of her coffee, knee still bouncing nervously from being wound up.

He unwraps it, finds that it's a work bag, and feels in equal measure frustrated that she could see how beat-up his current one is and grateful that he won't have to be spending the money to replace said current one. He looks up at her, anticipating her to have that expectant look on her face that his mother has when she gives things, as if prepared to judge if the gratitude is up to her standards, and is equally surprised that she still looks hurt and sad.

"Thank you, Swann. It's just like one I'd have chosen for myself." He lays it flat on his lap and pulls the paper stuffing out of the pockets, examining it. She spent a decent chunk of change on this, more than he'd have been able to. It's a nice bag.

To not feel indebted, and, he hopes, to wipe that awful crumpled look off her face, he makes plans to get her something over his half-hour lunch and bring it back to her.

"It's really nice."

She brightens as he looks at it, takes the paper out of it. The truth is (not that she thinks he'd ever believe it) that she doesn't really notice the shabbiness he tries to hide in his clothes, his accessories, everything but his car. She sees it perhaps on a surface level, when there's a few too many strings loose on his jacket, or when his shoes are more than just a bit scuffed, but it simply doesn't register to her as anything but part of Jason.

The bag was simply something she thought he'd like, the same way she bought gifts for her father or her Tributes or anyone else, and because she could afford to, she just... bought it for him.

"I thought it would look nice with the suit Jolie made you," she tells him, perking back up a bit more. "I really liked the color, too, but I can exchange it if you'd rather have it in black. Plus I thought this hardware, the silver, I thought that would look good with your watch, it's silver. Sleek, you know?"

"The color's fine. Brown works with the District Seven aesthetic better than black, actually. We have all these wood tones to match to." He holds the bag up, tilting his head a little as he compares the shade of the leather to the slatted wall behind the fireplace. Then he compares it to the watch, too, and finds it all satisfactory. And then some. "Even matches my shoes, if you look."

And as if to prove even moreso to Swann that he's serious about accepting it, he starts to take things out of the workbag stuffed under the coffee table and transfer them to the new one. He tries to think of ways to return the gift, of things that Swann would like that she doesn't already own, that he can afford, and that doesn't send an unintentional signal.

"Now I'll finally have a bag I don't have to kick under the table and out of sight for dinner dates with Sponsors." He half-smiles at her. "How's the coffee?"

His continued acceptance of the present makes her happier, until she's all smiles again, drawing her legs up to sit with them under her skirts, tucked to her side. Her hands aren't shaking anymore.

"Oh, it's good!" she says, which is probably a bit of an overstatement, but whatever, it's fine. She takes another sip before looking at him, maybe just a touch concerned. "You said something about breakfast, have you eaten? Do you want to get something?"

"I'm fine. I do without as many days as I do with." He paused, thinking of the headache marshaling its waves of pain behind his eyes. Food will do him good. "Unless you want to fill the time and accompany me. I already had one of your cake pops, though. I'm pretty sure I got all the glitter from my teeth."

He relaxes a little, seeing that he's defused whatever was bothering Swann. It wouldn't go to make her cry so many times out of the relatively few times they've spent time together.

"I hope it was good, I spent hours making them all! I had to make enough for the whole tower. They were still quicker than the strawberries, though."

Taking a long drink of her coffee, she beams at him. "Where do you want to go?"

Edited 2015-02-14 14:04 (UTC)

"Holy..." Well Leo was impressed at Swann's devotion to the holidays, eyes widened at all the goodies she'd set up for the guests and the decorations. The level of commitment to make the sickly-sweet holiday was something to behold. The baskets full of sweets and-really? The basket of strawberries and cake pops are what prompted the coach to come down and see it all. Swann was getting to Jennifer Blackwood's level of work.

"I respect your style, Honeymead, I really do," Cora joked around and raised his bottle of water as an impromptu toast to her and to Marcel the tiny Cupid dog. Sure it was overwhelming at first, and it wasn't his cup of tea, but he had to give credit where credit was due.

As a rule, Oceana doesn't generally do Valentine's Day. It's always been for people who do the whole romance thing, which she hasn't done in a long time. Short-term flings? Fuck, yeah. Not so much with the whole relationship bit. But that's different this year; Oceana's gotten back together with her old flame Holly, and she finds herself weirdly jazzed for Valentine's Day. Maybe it's because she actually has a reason to celebrate; maybe love really is in the air.

Or maybe it's because someone's thrown a party and there's free food.

Dressed in a red sequin minidress with a pale pink, curly wig and matching lipstick, Oceana meanders toward the party's hostess, already carrying a plate full of macarons and cupcakes. "Hey, girl," she chirps in her girl-voice, grinning blithely. "Cute party. You do this all by yourself?"

If there's wariness there, Felicity is not picking up on it. For there are sweets, and those should keep her distracted from doing something high-pitched and embarrassing in front of whatever stray Tribute might happen to wander along. For now.

"Really? Really?! Aaaah, that's great! Thank you! Wow, everything looks so good..." She immediately snatches up a cupcake with pastel green frosting, and starts peeling the wrapper away. Before she can take a big bite, though, she does remember that she's here for a reason....

"Oh, oh, have you seen Torin Byrd around? One of the District 2 mentors? I've, I've got something for him."

"Didn't realize you'd made them yourself. I just assumed you had Ela- no, Eta do it." He's trying to remember the Avox's name, even as using a name for them makes something in his gut go sour.

"There's a place on Romulus that serves pan-fried potato pancakes. Those are the ones you like, right?" It's clear he really was hoping to feed her.

Sadie had decided that if she were truly going to give this whole 'hobby' thing with the games a go, the best way was to simply dive in head first and being attending parties rather than dangling her little toes into the drink from afar. Too much was always better than too little with that sort of business and- oop, thinking of drinks, here was a man with them now. She picked up a martini and, now fully armored, made her way towards the...festivities, the deep black of her dress causing her to stand out against the backdrop of bright color and cheer.

"Oh, my...pink," she slowly, as if concerned it may attack her, picked up one of the little cake pops to inspect. "I believe you've lost a deal of weight since the last time we met, my dear."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 9

You make me smile with my heart

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject