there's plenty of men to die

[drinkupmehearties]

Who| Jack & OPEN + a closed thread to Firo
What| Dealing with his Arena death back at the Capitol
Where| District 8 Suites & Tribute Center
When| Late week 3
Warnings/Notes| Drinking, mention of gore, talk of death, etc.

It felt unnatural, unreal.

Despite nearly three weeks of hell -- starvation, insomnia, constantly struggling to stay alive in spite of it all -- the only mark that had been left on Jack was wholly mental. The memories lingered back in his thoughts, but no actual physical damage had stayed. Even the hunger that had gnawed at him hourly, for days on end, was completely gone.

As if it had all been a vivid fever dream that he'd merely awoken from.

Of course, overshadowing all of it was the last few minutes, the moment the gun had gone off. Beneath the high-pitched ringing in his ears, the impact had felt like someone had taken a bludgeon and forcefully slammed it into him, followed quickly by a searing, burning pain. Then the disbelief had followed, the surge of adrenaline that poured into his body in an attempt to keep him alive.

And then everything had plunged into utter darkness, folded into the silence of death.



(A. District 8 Suites)

But now Jack stood in the Suite's kitchen, as if nothing had happened.

Naturally, upon revival, the pirate had made a beeline for the nearest bottle of liquor and drowned himself into a drunken stupor back in his room the first day or so. But having now run out of his initial stock of booze, he was pushed to venture back out to restock.

He's in the kitchen, at present, rifling through the Suite's selection of liquor, culling whichever bottles look the best to him and setting these choices aside on the nearest counter. He's dressed in the fancy clothes Swann had had made for him, all silk and brocade and tight material, largely because his old clothes had failed to turn up after a couple days of 'cleaning' like she'd promised.

All the while, the pirate is casually singing a particularly brutal song to himself:

"Yo, ho, ho and a bottle of rum
The skipper lay with his nob in gore
Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore --
And the scullion he was stabbed times four
And there they lay, and the soggy skies
Dripped down in up-staring eyes --
In murk sunset and foul sunrise -- "

In a mutter that's just audible above the hum of the television in the nearby common room. He turns to place another bottle in his growing collection, but the movement is a bit too off-balanced and quick. His hand bumps against one of them -- it wobbles, briefly, then slips off the counter, smashing onto the floor with a loud shatter. A sharp curse from Jack hastily follows it.


(B. Training Center)

Sometime later, Jack can be found down in the Training Center. It isn't a place that one would usually find him, but as much as the liquor helped to dull down and alleviate it all, the chance to release any pent up energy felt almost as good. Besides, his time in the Arena had shown him where a few of his weaknesses lay.

He spends a portion of his time practicing his hand at constructing the rabbit snares and traps -- and most times failing -- and the rest of it with a knife, skillfully stabbing and gutting the dummies, or hurling the knives at them with unusually good aim. Anyone is free to notice him -- and if not, eventually Jack may pause to take a breather and glance to the nearest person with a weapon to watch with interest, then remark: "You've quite the knack for that."


(C. Closed to Firo)

Apparently not soon after Jack had been killed, Firo had followed suit in a horribly similar way.

Already aware of how rough everything could be after revival, and as partial thanks for the time the boy had stuck around him in the Arena, Jack grabs whatever food was easiest to snag from the fridge -- which happens to be a half-eaten box of cold pizza -- and a couple bottles hard liquor, then heads to Firo's room.

He leans his head towards the door, at first, listening for any sign of life, then raps his knuckles against the hard surface and calls out, "Firo, lad. Are you there. I've brought you something."

Comments

C.

[foundafamily]

Firo can’t count how many times he’s been shot and, yes, shot dead. But this time was different. Worse. For one, he didn’t entirely trust the Capitol to bother bringing him back. For another thing, this time he wasn’t going to dust himself off a few seconds later and get to punch his attacker in the jaw.

And worse than it all is the concern about what this new method of resurrection means for the person he left back home. The short time since he’s come back to life has been spent mostly pacing his room and trying very hard not to think of her.

There’s a split second where he shuts his eyes against the sound of the knocking, thinking it might be one of the many people he’d rather swallow a cockroach than talk to right now.

But they snap open again and his stomach goes cold when he hears the voice. While they all go into the arena knowing the odds for victory are slim, Jack had been one of the few he’d sincerely hoped wouldn’t have to die. If Jack’s still listening closely enough, he’ll hear the soft footsteps speed up as Firo rushes to fling the door open.

He doesn’t even think to hide the disappointment in his voice. “You’re here too?”

[drinkupmehearties]

For a brief second, the disappointment and the question are both met with a flash of a deep-rooted misery that he's felt for the past few weeks. Maybe even for the entire past month or so, since all this had started and home, the sea, his beloved ship, had all become an elusive dream drifting further and further away with each day. And worse still, on top of it, that one of the people he'd come to consider a friend in this place had met his end as well.

But it doesn't linger long on his face because it's Jack, of course, and looking unaffected by even the most horrible of circumstances was a specialty of his. What good was a captain who couldn't keep a level head and strong front in times of trouble.

So instead, a familiar grin slides in its place, a glint of metal showing in his teeth. "Aye, as I am. Had an unusual and rare bout of bad luck, so to speak." A short gesture towards himself. "But no worse for wear." He offers out the pizza box for Firo to take, and at the same time nudges himself past and into the room without asking.

[foundafamily]

Despite the utter insensitivity of reminding someone of the torture they've suffered, Firo doesn't quite realize he's erred until he sees that look. "Sorry." He winces and ducks his head; it's already gone by the time he looks up, making Firo wonder if he just imagined it.

Either way, he's glad to see the smile, even if he doesn't manage to return much of one himself. Anything else on Jack's face looks out of place.

He nods as he listens, privately doubting if anyone who's wound up here can ever classify their bad luck as 'rare,' but this time he has the good sense to keep his comment to himself. At least for now.

He accepts the box dumbly and shuffles aside for Jack to enter. "Um, thanks?" As he looks at it, though, he realizes that he is hungry. Both for food and for company, though he's not quite feeling like he deserves either. His gratitude is more heartfelt this time, "Thank you."

Letting the door swing shut behind him, he turns to Jack, grasping for something to say that won't upset either of them. He settles for trying to joke, "I should probably warn you that you could find better company somewhere else."

Which is his attempt to express how much this means to him. Jack really is a good guy, isn't he?

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack is already waving a dismissive hand at Firo's apology, looking about the room for a place to deposit himself. "No matter and no need for that, lad." The bed is the only real place to settle in the small room, and so he slumps onto it and cracks open his bottle. His other arm extends out in the meanwhile to offer Firo, with a shake, the second bottle of booze to take.

"Haven't tried that -- " His chin jerks up to indicate the pizza box that Firo's holding, " -- but figured it wouldn't hurt to bring it." Not that either of them were starving, like it'd been back in the Arena.

Even in his travels at sea, while Jack had experienced his fair share of dangerously low rations and months of only tasteless hardtack to eat, it'd never been as desperate or painful as it'd been in the Arena. Sure, Swann had sent him supplies one week and he'd been able to catch fish here and there, but it'd never lasted nearly long enough to sustain him.

So it was nice to have food so easily within reach.

Firo's attempt at a joke brings another wide smile to his face. "Is that so? Whereaway would that be, eh? With one of the Capitolites who fiddle around on our floor?"

[foundafamily]

He takes the bottle and sticks it under his arm as he sets the pizza box on the bed next to Jack. The smell of the open box is enough to make him nostalgic for Alveare, but he tries to ignore that as he tears off a piece to offer to Jack and one for himself.

"I don't know how they make it here, but it's worth tryin'."

Firo bites in and chews appreciatively. He too is damn glad to have food around. His situation had been luckier, not by too much; having the concern of starving alleviated, at least for the immediate moment, is a relief.

And seeing a smile is a reassurance as well; it's a little easier to return it now.

His true frustration is hard to hide, though, when he responds. The sarcasm is thick enough to choke on. "Why not? I know I can't wait to hear about how disappointin' my 'performance' was. Or maybe they'd talk about important things, like what color the fuckin' curtains should be."

Agitated, he gestures wildly with his free hand, just barely keeping from dropping the bottle.

[drinkupmehearties]

He accepts the piece from Firo with one hand, downing rum with the bottle in his other one, then takes a bite. A few contemplative chews later, and Jack shrugs. "Had worse." It didn't help that it was stone cold from the fridge, probably, but the pirate didn't know otherwise.

Firo's reaction is understandable, and Jack makes a noise that sounds almost like a laugh in agreement. The Capitolite's priorities in this place were stupidly absurd and misplaced, and it irritated him to no end.

"True for the both of us, eh?" He's expecting it, when Jolie or Swann see him next. It's inevitable. "What a disappointment we are, aye, three weeks in hell but coulda done better. Shame." Okay, yeah, it's hard not to feel resentment and bitterness directly after what had happened. He pauses to chug his rum. "Or what next material would accentuate this or that."

[foundafamily]

"I'll make you a better one, sometime." It seemed like they'd have a lot of downtime, at least. Why not make the most out of the luxuries afforded to them before they had to suffer again?

He snorts out a laugh. "Right. And we're the unreasonable ones." They'd both snapped at him for what were, he felt, very normal reactions to being kidnapped and separated from his family. If they mean well, Firo isn't seeing it.

He takes a drink and in that moment has time to think a little more than he'd like. His speech is a little slower and more contemplative when he picks up, "...Shit, I don't know if I can take that. 'Specially not from people like this. They don't know anything."

B

[conifer]

Emily knows how angry Jason would be if he found her offering advice to Tributes belonging to other Districts, but she just can't help herself. It's hard for her to stay partial having experienced the Games herself, and besides, having grown up in the forests of Seven, she knew a thing or two about setting traps, and it was painful to watch someone struggling with them like that.

She seats herself opposite Jack, legs tucked neatly underneath her, and leans over to fiddle with the snare. "Here, like this."

[drinkupmehearties]

He's in the process of trying to carefully reset it from his latest failure, tip of his tongue stuck in the corner of his mouth with concentration, when an unfamiliar voice draws his focus back outwards. His gaze darts up and over to the woman for a beat, then Jack pulls both hands away to allow her to fidget with it however she wanted.

"Blasted thing won't work at all," His remark is tinged with clear frustration, but the pirate attentively watches her.

[conifer]

"It just needs the right touch," Emily assures him. She turns her attention to the trap, her brow furrowing over in concentration as she puts it together properly. It's a couple of moments before she looks up at him again, smiling encouragingly. "There. Do you think you can do that?"

[drinkupmehearties]

He observes what she does intently, brow furrowed slightly. His head cants to the side a touch once she finishes, then the pirate glances back up to her and gives her a half-smile. "So it does. Aye, I could try to manage it."

He goes about tearing down and resetting the trap, and in the meanwhile asks: "What's your name, luv?"

[conifer]

"Emily." She offers a smile of her own in return. "I'm the Mentor for District Seven." She pushes a couple of the pieces of the trap back toward him as he pulls it apart, watching him work and nodding in satisfaction.

[drinkupmehearties]

"Cap'n Jack Sparrow. It's a pleasure, luv. Appreciate the help." He slips a hand forward to sweep up the pieces she slides towards him, carefully trying to assemble the trap like she had.

"Mentor. Haven't heard that one yet. What's a Mentor for the Capitol do?"

A.

[whatisay]

Jason's made more trips to the District Eight Suites than he has in his life ever seen he and Swann started their whatever-it-is. For the most part it's during their hasty Escort lunch breaks, when he pops up briefly to see if Swann's available so they can go grab a salad and a sandwich together. Jason normally eats the free food that the Avoxes can provide, but when he and Swann go out he actually spends money and leaves the Center, and as such gives his District Seven Tributes a brief reprieve from his foul temper and rude remarks.

Which means that at the moment, that vitriol can be aimed at someone else, and the instant he catches sight of Jack he realizes that Jack's exactly the sort of person he hates. It's a deep, gut-feeling kind of hate, one that's nourished by a lifetime of abstinence from liquor and tended by certain presumptions of what a person with class would do. Which is not knock over bottles of booze and sing crass songs as if no one might walk in, or look as if they're a wooden doll shoved into an outfit of clothes from another set.

He wrinkles his nose and looks near-nauseated at the smell of the gin that's filling up the kitchen.

"God. You're embarrassing."

[drinkupmehearties]

No lie there at all, the word class -- or any semblance of it -- would probably be the last descriptor one would ever use to characterize the pirate. Jack doesn't immediately notice Jason's entrance into the kitchen, as he's too busy drunkenly trying to shoo away the Avox that had instantly sprung over from the wall to clean the mess.

The man's words, however, do reach him. His head turns to the side to glance over at Jason -- distraction enough for the Avox to swoop in with more towels and then away with a handful of glass pieces -- and the pirate promptly makes his own assumptions from the scornful words and attitude. Probably a Capitolite. Wouldn't surprise him.

If Jason expects anger or irritation from that statement, he'll be disappointed. In response, Jack's mouth merely splits in a cheeky smile, a hint of gold in his upper teeth. "Aye, so I've already been told, mate." He's no stranger to insults, back home or here in Panem. He's also noticed that the Avox has done a fine job of mostly clearing away his mess, so the pirate returns to picking out more alcohol.

And because he's not in a particularly cheery mood, adds: "As it is, perhaps the lot of you could find a way, hard as it can be, I know, to be more creative with your indignities."

(( OOC: No worries at all ♥ ))

[whatisay]

Jason looks fairly disgusted at the glint of gold, at the untrimmed facial hair and ruddiness on the face of a man whose life is with seaspray and wind rather than spa salons and moisturizing creams. That seems to insult him more than the quip.

"You're one of Swann's. You're lucky she's got you instead of me. I'd have the alcohol wrung out of you by your third hour here."

He smacks the shoulder of the Avox, still bustling around and trying to clear up the last of the mess. "You missed a spot. For God's sake, did they take out your eyes when they took your tongue? Look at that."

He looks back at Jack. He pulls out his cigarette, the little electric vaporizer he keeps in his breastpocket, and turns it on. The little blue light at the end glows and he inhales steam the smell of eucalyptus, intending to leave a note for Swann clearer than writing. "She certainly didn't do anything to deserve you."

[drinkupmehearties]

A couple more selections, and Jack seems pleased with his new stock of booze. Next to it all is a crumpled up pillowcase that the pirate snatches, his own pillowcase from his room apparently, and Jason will be treated to the clink clink clink of each bottle as it's not-so-carefully placed inside.

The first remark elicits a short, clipped laugh from him. "Aye, I'm sure of it. Nothin' more intimidating than a pompous, pampered Capitolite that's still fed on pap and suckets." Even if the meaning might not be apparent to him, the tone of Jack's voice is clear enough.

He turns around just as Jason smacks at the Avox, and the corner of his lips twitches. Irritation -- with a hint of anger -- has finally made it across his face, but before Jack can shuffle over unsteadily to help with the last of the clean up, she's disappeared and left the floor spotless.

Instead the pirate fixes Jason with another smile, this time without any hint of cheer to it. "That goes likewise, mate. I didn't ask to be involved in this nonsense." But, then a considering pause. "What's it matter to you, anyhow, who deserves what?"

[whatisay]

There's something in Jason's hand, half-stuffed into his pocket, that seems to twitch or flinch with every clink of the bottle, as if it's struggling to remain of this time and place instead of being flung into the past, or into a fist.

"And if you were one of mine, I'd have your tongue ripped out for that kind of talk." His nostrils flare slightly, something inside him withering at knowing he has so little recourse against a Tribute that isn't his. Were his temper on a little slacker a leash he may have backhanded Jack already.

"It doesn't matter. I just think it's a shame when good Escorts get bad Tributes. A damn shame, I say." He gestures with his cigarette at the Avox. "Don't help them. It scares them when you pretend they're people, and for good reason."

[drinkupmehearties]

Unlike most times, the pirate would've welcomed the attack from Jason. It'd be a neat little excuse to retaliate in kind, to release all that pent up indignation and rage that had twisted itself into his gut as each day marched by, made even worse in the Arena when that bullet had torn its way through flesh and organ and ego.

But instead, for the time being, Jack will settle for prodding further at Jason. He's not moved in the least by the threat, and it shows. "Would you now. That's very interesting, mate." This guy's a piece of work, that's clear as day. Godspeed to those poor Tributes that have to deal with him in his district.

He lifts his index finger, pointedly. "As, it seems, that is a touch counter-intuitive for an Escort such as yourself, aye? Seeing as you Capitolites are so peculiarly preoccupied, or otherwise infatuated, with presence and appearances and the like. That'd put a large damper on the whole appeal for the audience, wouldn't it. And it certainly wouldn't help a good little Escort like Swann win the approval of the masses." Jack had a sense that Swann meant something to Jason, more than his dismissive words led on. But of course that could be wrong, and the man was just simply defending his own ilk.

But then again that begged the question as to why he was in the District 8 Suites to begin with, and not terrorizing his own Tributes.

Jason's last comment causes a brief clench to the pirate's jaw and narrowed eyes. "No. That's where you're dead wrong, mate. They're as human as the rest of us. Cutting the tongue from their mouths don't make them less so."

A

[reallynow]

Some nagging is probably on the cards in the future, but Jolie is reasonably impressed with Jack. For someone who seemed most likely to fail right from the start, he didn't do too badly. She doesn't want to admit that she's a little attached to him already, but it's inevitable when he's in her District and as much fun as he is a complete nightmare of a person.

She gives him some space at first, like she generally does with most of her Tributes when they arrive back after losing out in the Arena. It's part respect and part dread for the fact that they might not come back, but eventually Jolie faces it by traipsing into the kitchen in time for the bottle to hit the ground. Her shoulders hunch at the sound of it, coupled with the fact that Jack has graciously made a huge mess, but she lets her shoulders ease when it's apparent that he isn't doing too well.

Jolie steps over the mess on the floor, taking care not to get it on her shoes as she approaches the pirate swaying in the kitchen and immediately reaches out to give him a kiss on the cheek in greeting. "You get one of those a year." She warns, pulling back to fuss with his hair like she's both afraid to touch it and curious about it. "You didn't do too bad, y'know."

[drinkupmehearties]

Since his arrival back at the Suite, Jack had anticipated some sort of encounter with either Swann or Jolie that would, no doubt, be accompanied with a nice little lecture about how his performance wasn't perfect or good enough.

He hadn't won. He'd survived for awhile, sure, that was nice, but he'd lost out in the end. Not to mention that his death had been broadcast, as the pirate understood it, to millions of other prying and hungry eyes all over Panem. It's hard to be infallible and indestructible -- and any number of the other things Jack likes people to think of him as -- when that particular moment of weakness and vulnerability can be replayed over and over to anyone that wanted to see it.

He hears Jolie before she's near him, but doesn't turn to greet her -- instead, the broken bottle on the floor suddenly appears to be an incredibly interesting thing to look at for the time being. Because of that the kiss she places on his cheek comes as a surprise to him, and Jack immediately shifts around to face her. Normally the first remark would evoke a response in turn from him, but the pirate is, instead, briefly quiet and still as she frets with his dreadlocks. The expression on his face, in the meanwhile, is hard to read.

He'd almost wanted Jolie to chide him, to scold and tell him how disappointing he was, so that his anger about all this could be rightfully directed at someone. The acrimony was even bitten on the back of his tongue, ready. But she doesn't approach him that way.

That's why a half-smile, one that doesn't quite reach all the way to his eyes, presses at the corner of his mouth. "Full of surprises, ain't I."

[reallynow]

It doesn't take a genius to see something is off about Jack. Just a little bit of familiarity and some experience with similar situations. Jolie is sure it would be easy to be a scapegoat for frustration, but she's pretty tired of playing that roll. Jack's chances were never good, so even if she wants a win badly, she isn't about to berate him for not somehow defying logic and odds.

He tried. A little bit. That matters.

There's a wariness in her expression as she waits for him to respond, not entirely certain about how he'll take it all. Beyond, you know, copious drinking. This is probably a problem that should be looked into, but for now Jolie can spare some patience.

"Yes and no." She says dryly, a smirk pulling at her lips as she tests the waters here. "I thought you were gonna die within the first hour, so I guess I'm a little thrown here."

[drinkupmehearties]

His expression tightens at her words, that same cheerless bend to his mouth on his face.

"Ah, did you." As much as Jack can take most things in easy stride, this isn't one of those moments for him. Not so directly after he'd been starved, half frozen to death, attacked by monsters, then shot and killed. All for the Capitol's sake and in the name of entertainment.

So Jack slips the worn -- but unusually clean -- tricorne from his head and places it over his chest. "Amazing that I didn't, then, i'n'it. Perhaps that would've been truly preferable to suffering through the rest of it." He slides the hat back in place, taps a couple fingers to his temple, then turns back to the task at hand.

His hand brushes across a couple more bottles, indecisive, then the pirate finally snags another for his collection. "Hope the show was gratifying and flashy enough for the lot of you."

[reallynow]

Despite the fact that Jolie hasn't known Jack much longer than a month, it's fairly easy for her to pick up on his change in demeanor. She's a meddler by nature, she notices these things and she doesn't like these things.

Even so, a bland look reaches her face when he heads right into the dramatics with his hat. Must be a pirate thing, of course it's a pirate thing. It's also annoying because she can't say precisely what she wants to say here. She opens her mouth, closes it, pauses to watch him tinker about and then decides to talk.

"If they brought you back, then it was." She points out, reaching a hand out to rest it on the crook of his arm. "I dunno if getting wasted is going to help much, uh, luv." Look at her, using your words. "Maybe next time you'll be more in your element or something. Like a beach or a ship or something." She says that, but the sentiment feels pretty hollow and even she knows that.

"I know it sucks. I'm sorry." That was probably not much better either.

[drinkupmehearties]

He starts to cram the bottles of booze into the nearby pillowcase that sat, crumpled and empty, on the counter close by him. It's only when Jolie touches a hand to his arm that Jack finally pauses in his efforts, then angles his head in her direction. His last remark had been mostly derisive in nature, because even if the pirate had done more than his fair share of questionable things in his life, this entire situation -- the magnitude of the bloodlust, the way the Capitolites fawned over and celebrated all the brutality and death that occurred in the Arena, then treated the Tributes like toys to play with and dress up -- sickened him more than he'd initially realized.

With his last choice of booze in hand, Jack moves back to face Jolie. This time, the expression on his face has softened -- particularly after her attempt to imitate him, which almost involuntarily forces an amused, genuine half-smile onto his mouth. The twitch at the corner of his lips happens to be the only indication that it nearly made it to his face. "Who's to say it won't, eh? It's helped before. And, by my reckoning, really, it's a great deal better than the alternative." He'd already spent more days than he'd like to count sober in the Arena and that had been near torture, mentally and physically. So there was no reason to stop, in his mind, now that alcohol was plentiful and within easy reach once again.

She mentions beaches and ships, and the look on his face sobers further. The thought of it makes him feel that pang of longing that has plagued him since his arrival -- for the vast and endless sea, for his beloved Pearl. It made the room feel all the more suffocating and small and stifling.

"P'rhaps." Yeah. Maybe next time. Once this prolonged punishment had resumed its course.

He's silent for a long, stretching moment after the apology. He doesn't want to believe that it's actually sincere in any way, not coming from someone like her. Particularly because he's certain that she's never experienced the Arena firsthand. But he's seen -- and heard -- honest concern come from her, especially at the Crowning before all the Tributes had been shuffled off to the Arena to die.

So his next question, as stupid as it sounds coming out of his mouth, is quietly pensive. "Why do you take part in it."