thecapitol | I'm there at your side

Entry tags:

I'm there at your side

Who| Jennifer & Open | Jennifer & Calendius
What| Open log to chat with the Tribute Comfort & Care Administrator
Where| Jennifer's office in the Tribute Center, or elsewhere if you like.
When| Week 5 of the Arena.
Warnings/Notes| Cal gets his own prompt below.

With Tributes slowly trickling back into the Capitol, Jennifer expected that her services would be in much higher demand again. The Arena had provided a nice reprieve from the added stress of face to face interactions and a chance to catch up on paperwork, but it would be pleasant to meet with the Tributes yet again.

Her office was always kept open to visitors, and all they need do was knock to find themselves invited in for hot tea or coffee and a nice, friendly chat. Jennifer prided herself on this kindly brand of professionalism, and if the recent staff retreat was any indication, it seemed that soft touch diplomacy was working wonders around the tower.

♕ ♕ ♕

For Cal:

Despite her best intentions from the start, things had become hopelessly complicated between herself and Cal. It served her right, letting herself get caught up in him and his personal drama bubble or whatever it was that seemed to follow him around. She was a married woman, and devoted to her husband's career and future. Winding up in bed with Cal Rey was just about the stupidest thing she could do. And yet, somehow...

He was a major problem, and being a thinking woman, Jennifer was determined to think her way out of this pickle. Of course, it would have been far easier if she wasn't completely smitten by the man. He was trouble all right, and she felt like a school girl around him, giddy and eager to play along so long as he smiled at her. What a fool she was. It was all so dangerous.

She ought to have turned him out when he showed up at her office with fresh sushi bentos and a bouquet of her favorite genetically engineered flowers. He was being too brash, too forward, too public. It was too risky to play this game in public. But he'd given her a sly little smirk and tutted and made himself at home, and now she was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Cal having a midday picnic in her office.

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Dandy had been keeping low since he died so early. He was ashamed, really. He talked so big about how far he would get and then was just...overwhelmed. He was afraid to know what the Capitol thought of him now, but he supposed he'd have to find out eventually.

He knocked on the door, "Um. Can I come in?"

"Oh, my. Working quarters. It would seem you do live to shock the system, my dear."

Sadie had heard of course. From Lucy, Jennifer's former schoolmate, as well as through general familial gossip- as one did- that the woman had gone forth and provided a...well, service with her talents. Seeing was believing, however, and Sadie was still adjusting fully to the idea of someone willingly working for a living as she settled herself into the chair- her gracious welcome to the room simply assumed- on the other side of the desk.

"How are you enjoying yourself?"

On the contrary, Cal had taken great pains not to make a big deal about his increasingly frequent midday ventures to Jennifer's remote office. He came up with a few reasonable excuses --work related, inquiries after marketing deals for his Tributes, or some trumped up indignity Leonidas had subjected him to earlier in the day, mostly-- and always strove to seem professional but nonchalant in his manner of dress. Today, for example, he'd changed from his typical athletic gear (although the snap back cap had remained firmly in place, his hair looked a mess and he wasn't having it) into a polo, crisp denim, and casual trainers. It was better than his usual track pants and athletic jacket, but hardly enough to raise suspicion. Really, the more notable thing would be if he felt confident enough to pay his boss a visit looking any less dressed.

Anyway, the point was that he definitely wasn't being too brash about it. Not at all. He'd brought with him the bentos, the flowers, his manicure kit, and a notepad with a slew of strategy questions as an alibi just in case. They were more than covered. Now if only he could manage to look less smug about it.

"Your hair looks nice. I like it down," he said, sending a smile Jenny's way as he glanced up at her quickly from the dishes between them. "Do you want the last piece of salmon? It's high in omega-3s. Great for skin."

Though Linden, like everyone, at least knows Jennifer by sight, he rarely comes to see her. For years, he's woven his own contentment with the tattered shroud of Morphling, and as long as he has access to the drug (simple, for a Victor), he's had no reason to complain. But things are different, and when he enters after two brisk knocks on her door, he looks drawn and ill, but completely sober.

"6's suite needs to be cleaned," he announces. "Top to bottom, very thoroughly. Can you arrange for it to happen?"

If he can't stand to get rid of his last few stashes, someone else can do it for him.

Jennifer looked up from her work, craning her long neck toward the door. She hadn't been expecting any visitors, but Tributes were always welcome to stop by at anytime. And it didn't hurt that Dandy was so enthusiastic and marketable. There were much worse people she could think to have a chat with.

"Yes, do come in." She set her work aside and rose to meet him halfway. "Good afternoon, Dandy. What can I do for you."

Now there was a face she hadn't expected to see. Jennifer had to think to recall the last time she'd spent substantial time with Sadie Doyle. Likely at some family event, thanks to the Pinarius family's marital ties to Jennifer's husband somehow. It was all very complicated. Cousins-in-law or some such. Regardless, Sadie wasn't unwelcome in the tower. Just a tad unexpected.

"Sadie Doyle, is that really you?" She chirped graciously, trilling like a delighted little bird. "I'm just fine, really. Happy as can be. But I didn't think I'd ever see you here in my office. Welcome, welcome."

Jennifer of course knows Linden (doesn't everyone?) but having so rarely crossed paths with him, his appearance in her office gives her a bit of pause, as does his seemingly innocuous request. Brows furrowed, she sits forward in her seat.

"That won't be a problem at all," she replies. "I'll have a team of Avoxes sent up. Is it urgent?"

It was days like this when she wished she had the luxury of being in love. She'd made Cal promise to give his all to her. He'd love her body, mind, and soul. But Jennifer couldn't reciprocate. There was only so much she could give him. Her body? Yes, he could have that, that was of little note anymore. But her mind? Could he handle her mind? Calendius always told her how intelligent she was. He listened to her plans and schemes, and he consistently surprised her with his insight. Was he the brightest man? No. No, he was not. But he wanted her to shine and he never once tried to silence her or change the subject when it was over his head, and Jennifer admired that in him.

But there was one last pressing matter. What of her soul? She'd pledged her soul to her husband. She couldn't very well undo that now.

For the first time in her life, she really regretted having a political marriage based on mutual appreciation and friendship. She cared for Arturas deeply. He was a good man, a brilliant man. He could save Panem, be next in line for the presidency if he played his cards properly. Jennifer saw a bright and prosperous future with Arturas leading the nation. As the beautiful and popular daughter of a beloved politician, she was an asset to him. And her stable marriage was a delicious and continuing meal ticket and a chance to push forth her own ambitions. She needed that stability, and what's more, she'd made a vow to Arturas. Jennifer intended to keep that vow.

But honoring her husband was next to impossible when she was falling in love with someone else.

She allowed a little smile as she gazed at Cal, giving him a brief glimpse of her inner affections and torment. She was completely transparent, she could tell, and it drove her crazy. Still, they'd gone too far to stop now. Quietly, she turned her attention to the food, plucking up a roll with delicately handled chopsticks. She opened her mouth to pop in the last salmon roll, then paused, looking back to Cal with wide doe eyes. Smile widening, she raised the roll and chopsticks to his lips. "Open up."

It's been years since Swann and Jennifer were in the same room, and it makes Swann even more nervous than she already would be, to make such a large request. She knocks hesitantly at the doorframe and leans her head in, smiling as always before taking a step inside.

"Knock-knock, Jennifer. Or should I call you Mrs. Blackwood now?"

Linden's a Victor, and a holy trainwreck of a Victor at that. Most in Panem recognize his wide, staring eyes and the scar slashing across his throat as they would a close friend or a member of their own family (albeit one that rarely gets invited to dinner). But as Victors go, he's fairly insular, preferring to let Stephen handle most requests like this.

"Somewhat urgent, yes," he confirms, crossing his arms over his chest and trying not to fidget too noticeably. "If you send them up within an hour..."

No, that might give him time to change his mind.

"...a half hour. That should be good."

It really has been ages, but Swann isn't unwelcome in Jennifer's office or presence. It's more that as people grow, their trajectories change and with that, their social obligations. She's always liked Swann though, or at least liked her enough to see the value in maintaining a cordial, friendly relationship with her.

"Jennifer is just fine," she answers warmly, waving Swann into the room. "How are you, Swann?"

She nods, by this point on alert that something really may be amiss. His struggles have been long documented, and it crosses her path that perhaps what she is witnessing is the result of his checkered past, but she is hesitant to ask. Instead, she tries to dance around it.

"Was there some sort of spill? An accident of some kind?"

"No," he's quick to respond. "Nothing like that. We're just due for a very thorough top-to-bottom cleaning now that the Arena's drawing to a close. I want my Tributes to have an uncluttered living space so that they can have uncluttered minds... so the Avoxes should be instructed to leave only the consumables that are absolutely essential."

It's his way of dancing around the fact that the nonessential (and damaging) items in the suite belong to him.

"Um, I just..." he stepped in, head bowed, looking an awful lot like a kid who just broke a vase, "I kind of got ganged up on, and died a lot earlier than I thought. A lot. I would have lasted longer, but everyone was so mean to me because they're jealous that I knew how to get popular."

He sighs, and gets to the point, "My fans don't hate me now, do they?"

"I'm good, I'm really good!"

Swann enters, looking exactly as precious and doll-like as she always does, not a single platinum hair out of place. She takes a seat in one of the chairs opposite Jennifer's desk, pushing her skirt down so that it'll actually fit between the armrests.

"How are you? Did you get the Valentine's basket I sent you?"

Jennifer gave his question a great deal of thought. He'd been an early favorite, it was true, and surely there were disappointed fans out there who'd longed to see Dandy shine. Still, she'd hardly call him hated, not by a long shot.

"Oh no," she said gently, patting his forearm. "Your fans don't hate you. If anything, I'm willing to bet they want to see you get your revenge."

"Ah," Jennifer says, lips tightening into a fine line. "That's a good strategy. I'll be sure to instruct the Avoxes accordingly."

She pauses, still unable to fully shake the sneaking suspicion that there's an elephant waltzing its way across the room. "Is there anything else I should have them do? Any furniture to replace? Unusual staining on the floors? Unhealthy distractions to haul away before the Tributes return?"

"I did," Jennifer chirps back, clapping her manicured hands together with delight. "That was so very thoughtful of you, Swann, and so very unexpected. It was a very nice surprise for Valentine's Day, especially with my husband out of the Capitol once again."

That's all common knowledge around the city and around the tower, for anyone who cares about such things. Arturas Blackwood may be one of the beautiful up and comers in the political sphere, but his assignments send him out to the Districts to oversee administrative details on a routine basis, leaving his wife to her own devices. And in recent weeks, her own devices is code for 'in the arms of a certain escort'. But that's all unconfirmed. Speculation. Whispers.

For now.

Almost imperceptibly, his jaw tightens.

"The armchair by the window in the northeast corner," he murmurs, following quickly with "...and please ask them to pull up the carpet under my bed. And have them remove the painting 'Girl with Wildflowers' above the fireplace."

Jennifer's brows knit once again. "Of course, Linden. I'll have all of that cleaned up. But do you mind if I ask why?"

Swann knows the rumors, had seen Jennifer and her 'certain escort' at the retreat, and there was no denying what was there, but it's not her place to ever address it, not if they don't want to first.

"I'm so glad. I wanted everyone's Valentine's Day to be nice, especially since so many were still in the Arena. I knew the Tributes who'd made it back were bound to be lonely and missing their friends."

Everything she says is earnest, truthful, and tinged with genuine care for the Tributes. She wants them to be happy, as much as she can make them, and she tries so hard, so hard that it's taking a physical toll on her. Her face sobers a little and she wrings her hands.

"Jennifer, I was wondering... I was wondering if there's a way to have a Tribute transferred to a different District. Normally I would never ask, but... but I really think it's in everyone's best interest."

Well, this is awkward. He pulls self-consciously on the hairs at the back of his neck; he's sure she's guessed, and he'd hoped that she wouldn't make him say it, but it looks like his allusions aren't clear enough.

In the coming weeks, he'll be humbled more than this. He has to get used to that fact, and realizes it.

"I'm not one of the people in the Capitol who can just casually use Morphling and alcohol. I need them, and I'm really tired of needing them," he says, quietly but bluntly.

"Really?" he said, sighing with relief, "Oh, thank god. I was so worried. I didn't want to have lost my chance at stardom so fast."

Especially not because of Philip Gray.

"Is there anything I can do to, you know, get some good PR before next arena?"

Jennifer's found Swann's dedication to be reassuring and very impressive. It's refreshing to find staff members so truly committed to their work and to the well being of their Tributes. But that request gives her pause. She's never had one like that come across her desk, and least not an honest request, and not from someone as well regarded as Swann.

"That's not something we've ever done before, Swann. Is there something going on that you'd like to tell me?" Without further information, Jennifer feels that she cannot really act.

Ordinarily, she'd pass a Tribute back to their Escorts and Mentors for this sort of thing, but seeing as how Stephen was a complete screw up and Linden was out of his mind on drugs, Jennifer felt sympathetic toward Dandy, and decided that her intervention was warranted.

"I'm sure I can find some prime opportunities to drum up some support. I know we discussed a few ideas before, and I wouldn't mind acting on them now." She paused, considering another idea. "There's another thing you might be interested in helping me with. I'm looking for some assistance myself. I'm asked by all of the Tributes for help in little matters, and yet many of them are so ungrateful for the work I put in. I've been thinking lately that I might benefit from some good PR myself, at least as far as the Tributes are concerned."

Swann's starting to wring her hands in her lap, idly, as if she doesn't even know she's doing it. She finds it hard to look Jennifer exactly in the eye, and instead looks off to the side, even speaking about the confrontations making her nervous.

"Well, Joel has been... um... combative toward me since day one. I offered him the opportunity to sponsor a charity, for orphans, and he became extremely intimidating toward me. Physically, I mean. The only way I can get him to take part in anything is with the threat of Peacekeepers, which I can't imagine going through with. He seems to hold me -- well, us, really, all the staff as personally responsible for the existence of the Games and his being here."

She's rambling, a little, and her voice is getting progressively higher and faster as she goes. She takes a deep breath, to stop it, and turns her hands into fists that she crams into her skirt, punching down the crinoline.

"I don't know what his last straw will be, you know? And if he loses it and becomes violent, I can't defend myself long enough for the Peacekeepers to arrive. And... well, I understand if you can't do it, if I have to keep him, I just wanted to ask."

"Oh, sure. I'd love to do whatever I can. I know my fellow tributes can act like absolute ungrateful swine at times," he said sympathetically, as if being ungrateful for the opportunity to fight to the death over and over was just terrible, "What is it?"

She relaxes a little, eyes closed as she nods. "I understand. Whatever resources you need will be at your disposal. Your Tributes will need you in top form, Linden."

She pauses, considering if she ought to say or promise more. Truthfully, it matters little to the Gamemakers if the Mentors are addicts. It matters more to Sponsors and to the viewing public. In the end, Jennifer decides that it matters to her, too.

"It won't be easy to get you through this, but we will see you through this. The culture here isn't exactly conducive to sobriety, but it can be done. I know several individuals who don't partake in drugs or drinking, if you'd like support in this."

"How would you feel about working with me in an official capacity? As a liaison between the Capitol officials and the Tributes, I'm in contact with many high ranking sponsors and other notables. You'd have a chance develop close relationships with myself and the other staff members, as well as have an excuse to meet with sponsors in a more personal setting." And he could help her with paperwork and such. That part wasn't exactly glamorous, but someone had to do it.

Jennifer has seen Swann upset before, but never to this degree. Overcome by the instinct to shield and comfort the woman, she places a firm, yet gentle hand on Swann's arm to soothe and calm her.

"I had no idea this was happening to you," she says, letting her voice lull a bit to wind the squeaking and wringing down. "It's always a shame when Tributes misplace their anger onto people who are wholly undeserving."

There've been reports of other combative and angsty Tributes before, but it's been awhile since one has threatened a staff member. As far as she can remember, the last Tribute to do so was Eponine, and she'd been rewarded for her troubles with a few weeks in prison and confiscation of cash and property. But these situations were different. Eponine's spit attacks were nothing compared to what Joel could do with someone as tiny and delicate as Swann. Jennifer frowns slightly, tilting her head.

"How does he get along with Samuel and Jolie? What about the other Tributes? Is he acting out in other ways, against other people?"

"Oh, I would love that," he said, and he'd even do the boring paperwork without complaint if it meant getting the other stuff, "Would I get to be on TV?"

He nods, feeling a simultaneous sense of peace and panic over the matter. On one hand, he doesn't have to worry about these particular stashes dragging him back down. On the other hand, he's taking on something huge, and he's uncertain if any resources are actually enough to help him in any meaningful or concrete way.

He's determined for now but soon he'll be sick, and hurting and begging. Hardly in top form, even without the drugs.

He laughs humorlessly at her sympathetic observation about the environment. "Would you give me their names? I think that it actually would help."

Her hand calms Swann just a little, enough to make her stop shaking at least.

"He gets along with Jolie better than anyone else, really, even most other Tributes. I've never seen him work with Samuel at all. He stays holed up in his room, mostly, or else stays away from the Suite entirely, barely speaks to anyone. When he does, it's usually to say something... well, gruff, I suppose is the best word for it. But rude, at least to most of the staff. Sometimes he stalks away like he's going to hit you if he doesn't."

She swallows hard, fingernails pressing into her palms.

"I sometimes get the feeling that the only reason he doesn't hurt us is because he's outnumbered by Peacekeepers."

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