Open!

[lex_paciferat]

Who| Quintus and your character
What| Come bother him at work or on his off hours!
Where| In and around the Training Center
When| Week 5
Warnings/Notes| If you'd like to come up with another scenario besides the two below, feel free!


1. Now that some of the Tributes are coming back, Quintus finds his work picking up again. Since he started, there's always been cameras to service, employees to train, the occasional rip-roaring fight to stop, but now there's the added bonus of the media returning to breathe down his neck, wanting to know as much as possible about those living at the Center.

Today he's carting a ladder around the South Wing, waving a frequency scanner seemingly at nothing as he argues with seemingly no one, an inconspicuous earbud phone slipped into his right ear.

"We--oh, you realize that could've been anyone. Do you know how many hacking attempts we detect daily? My employees....No, no. I wouldn't. I wouldn't consider that entertainment. Out in the Arena, sure. I don't want to watch some Mentor having panic attacks here or some Tribute drunk off their ass. You think the Districts want us walking away with that image of them? Look, I'm just...no, I don't care. I don't want an incident."

He moves the scanner over part of the paneling, then reaches up, plucking a tiny camera off of the wall and slipping it into his pocket.


2. Near the end of the week, he heads out to one of the local bars not far from the center. Ordinarily he'll have the company of one or two colleagues, but tonight he's alone, sitting at the counter with a snifter of brandy. He's changed out of his uniform into something less eyecatching, though his pistol holster is still clipped to his belt.

Unlike most patrons here, he's rather deliberately not paying attention to the bloodshed being broadcast on TV, instead busying himself with browsing news articles on a tablet.

Comments

1

[conifer]

Emily's exhausted, and it shows. Between the overtime she's had to put into securing sponsors for her Tributes, getting to grips with the new format and battling with her own panic attacks and nightmares, which have increased considerably since she returned to the Capitol, she's had little time for rest and recuperation. She'd slipped into the South Wing to find a quieter part of the Training Centre - one away from Jason Compson - to make a few phone calls. She's trying to persuade a brand of soft drink to send money for a parachute of supplies for Vivi when she walks a little too close to where Quintus is working, snagging her sweater on the frame of the ladder as she passes, making it wobble precariously.

[lex_paciferat]

Startled, he grabs onto the sides of the ladder to try and keep from losing his balance, and shoots Emily a dirty look. She doesn't seem to be paying much attention, though, and he's still in the middle of his conversation, so he decides to ignore her.

"It's...that's irrelevant. Even if we haven't seen recent--oh, believe me, I know. I did a tour in 7. If they saw that--" He steps off of the ladder, picking it up to move to a different side of the room. "...I understand. But trust me, you and I both don't want to piss anybody off. And bottom line, I think that's unwise to put on the air. It doesn't matter where you got it from. Don't force my hand, all right? ...Okay. Goodbye."

He sighs, ending the call, and climbs up again.

[conifer]

She idly plays with the loose strand of fabric that had got caught on the ladder, rolling it around in her fingers while she talks, her tone enthusiastic and her the smile bright on her face to match. She hates the act she has to keep up, the image of a grateful Victor paying the Capitol back for its generosity, but the wellbeing of her Tributes depends on it. When she hangs up she physically deflates, slipping her phone in her pocket and rubbing at her temples, looking up at him with tired eyes.

"I heard you mention Seven. Everything okay?"

[lex_paciferat]

"Yeah," he says without looking at her. "One of the news stations got ahold of some footage from here. They're not going to release it."

[conifer]

She feels distaste rise up in her, automatically glancing about herself, paranoid that reporters are suddenly going to appear out of the walls.

"Thanks. It's enough that they go out there and fight and die in the Arena without the whole of Panem knowing every time they pass a bowel movement."

2

[contrarianlibrarian]

China didn’t often frequent bars to socialize; for her, they were a place to get information, to watch people.

She has a glass of wine in her hand--mostly full still, she doesn't want to approach tipsiness too closely--and her three-quarter sleeves expose the swirls and loops of the tattoos on her arms. They're colored in today, rich in reds and blues against the black of her hair and dress.

After watching him for a moment, she leisurely approaches his table. Anyone actively avoiding the Games is conspicuous, even if they're not a relatively famous face.

"I never would have imagined you to be the squeamish type. Do the Games bore you this much?"

[lex_paciferat]

She doesn't look immediately familiar to him, but he's honestly become rather used to this--being approached by people he doesn't recognize. Contrary to what he experienced in the districts, the uniform seems to make him all the more interesting to Capitolites, and it only figures that since he's a public figure now, he ought to get the same responses even when he's out of it.

He chuckles slightly, tapping the screen to close out of the tab he has open.

"I've broken up enough fights in my life that the novelty's kind of worn off."

[contrarianlibrarian]

"A pity." She gives a sympathetic nod, though inside she can't relate to the statement at all. A lifelong watcher of the Games, like most ordinary Capitolites she hasn't come any closer than that to genuine violence.

She won't invite herself to sit with him (yet), but she moves in closer to continue the conversation. Her manner and her smile are relaxed and self-deprecating.

"I'm afraid I can't leave you alone just yet; I have a professional interest here, after all. Anything my Tributes could do to interest a more seasoned eye?"

[lex_paciferat]

"If you're looking for a sponsor, you're out of luck with me. It'd be a bit of a conflict of interest when I'm supposed to be protecting everybody." He quirks a smile, resting his cheek in his hand. "My advice in general? Get them to lay the pain on thick if they haven't been already. Have them cry, scream, comfort each other, talk about their feelings. People like to see a good struggle against adversity, so long as they don't come across as too pathetic."

2

[dead_black_eyes]

Getting sober was easy. Staying sober, on the other hand, is the hardest thing Linden's ever taken on, and he won the goddamn Hunger Games, so that's saying something. But whether it's the weakness or the masochist in Linden, he is on the edge tonight, resisting his cravings in perhaps the worst possible place. He nurses a soda and tortures himself, watching those around him imbibing, his restlessness obvious. Every time the bartender asks if he wants something a little stronger, or someone recognizes him and offers to buy him a drink, or hears a laugh that's a little too loud and wild, he wants to batter himself senseless on the bar top just to escape it. It seems, somehow, more logical and simple than just walking out of an atmosphere he's conditioned to find comforting.

For a little while, he tries to throw himself into watching the Games, but it is much more difficult without the headiness of alcohol or the glaze of Morphling. He realizes he's hyperventilating. Someone touches his elbow, meaning well, knowing nothing of his struggles, and reaches for his hand, wrapping it around a drink that is frosty, colorful and definitely alcoholic.

Something snaps, and he's on his feet. Moments later, his bewildered benefactor is wearing the drink. Things look like they are about to escalate swiftly and severely unless they're short-circuited pronto.

[lex_paciferat]

Working in enforcement for years helps one develop a certain instinct for trouble. Quintus isn't actively paying attention to Linden, but out of the corner of his eye he sees the way his frame is tensed as that well-meaning person hands him the drink, and there's a wrongness to that body language that makes his gaze flicker up from his tablet. When Linden jumps from his seat, Quintus automatically jumps up too, pulling out his wallet to flash his military ID.

"Hey now," he says, his voice measured and calm, approaching the two without quite stepping between them. "Do we have a problem here?"

[dead_black_eyes]

Both participants in the altercation turn toward the Peacekeeper, wide-eyed and stricken. The Capitolite is soaked, blue slush and vodka dripping from his pastel pink hair, and Linden, in short, looks like he's entertaining the notion of bolting with the decorative glass still in his hand. Several people are even stepping aside in preparation for it; though such things are not often discussed, and certainly not openly or publicly, citizens know what a Victor at his breaking point looks like.

The Capitolite speaks first, shaking his head back and forth. "I... uh, I don't know sir. I wanted to buy one of my favorite Victors a drink, and..." he shrugs helplessly. "I just got my hair done, too..." he says mournfully, immediately taking out a compact and flipping it open in an attempt to survey the damage. His face falls; the blue and pink are not particularly complementary.

While the Capitolite is going on, Linden is setting the empty glass on the bar top, doing his absolute best to begin slinking away through the crowd.

[lex_paciferat]

"Stay here," he says, snapping his fingers and pointing at Linden. The man's story leaves him looking unimpressed--clearly whatever's up with Linden is the real issue here--and after a few moments he holds up a hand to cut him off.

"Look, I know and appreciate the value of a free drink, but next time, take two seconds to ask the guy what he wants. That's common courtesy. I'm not a huge fan of these super-sweet fruity things myself."

He moves past him to Linden, still trying not to sound too threatening, not wanting to set him off. "What's your name?"

1. capitolite CR 8D

[whatisay]

Jason's on his fifteen down in the South Wing, pretending he's taking a smoke break when the truth is that he never really cares about lighting up his little electric vaporizer in the Suite common room. With both hands in his pocket, the vapor cigarette hangs from his lips, occasionally twitching upwards as he works it back into control of his mouth between drags. He leans against the wall and watches Quintus as he works with the cameras and paneling.

"About time you people came around here and did some routine maintenance, I say. Half my charges are convinced the cameras don't even work and believe you me, that's just what I need when I'm trying to wrangle them. Them thinking they can get away with everything."

hihi :3

[lex_paciferat]

He glances back at the remark but barely acknowledges it at first, finishing up his call (with a brief mention of District 7, if Jason's listening closely) before climbing down to shift the ladder to another part of the room.

"Yeah, I'm working on getting us more of an active presence in the building," he tells him. "Been setting up randomized patrols and all that. Hopefully that'll help keep them in line."

[whatisay]

"Heard you mention something about my District. There anything I should be aware of, officer?" Jason gestures upwards with the cigarette by jutting his lower lip out. "If any of my charges are calling problems, I'm happy to get them to behave again."

He seems almost eager for a chance to lay the hammer down on them.

"I pushed up an idea of tailing them all with Avoxes for a while, but never got the budget for it. I say you aren't the only one who wants this city running smoothly."

[lex_paciferat]

"A news outlet managed to snag some footage of one of you guys having a freakout here at the Center. It doesn't sound too flattering, and in the interest of not pissing anybody off back in 7, I ordered them not to release it. It's taken care of."

He chuckles as he climbs back up. "Are they really that bad? Gotta have somebody following them like they're toddlers?"

I.

[currupted]

It's become so small, the scope of his job. "Minister of District Affairs" used to mean District affairs, the careful control of the lines of communication and commerce moving between the Capitol and its satellites. When he talked to people out of the Districts they were Capitol-appointed, and very little could have forced him to leave the Capitol to deal with any of them personally. Nowadays, though-- he's up on every Tribute scandal, every whisper of sedition, every post-Arena disappearance. Whether he likes it not.

The Cyrus Reagan of a year ago would have walked past Quintus without paying attention - Peacekeepers' work isn't his work, and what the cameras are inflicting on the Tributes not his business. But he has to care about this now, as he never would have before, and if he walks past it without inquiring he'll be thinking about it all day regardless. And so he slows.

"Everything in order?" he asks. It's a tone that expects an answer.

[lex_paciferat]

As Cyrus speaks up, he looks down at him distractedly. Quintus isn't terribly good with faces, but he's been in the Capitol long enough to be able to recognize public figures, and once that recognition kicks in he goes ahead and wraps up the call he's on.

"Yep," he replies. "Just replacing a few dead bugs--whoever set this up before left me some junky equipment."

[currupted]

Cyrus nods. Inwardly, he sighs. "That's a relief."

--Well. That couldn't have sounded good to someone more directly involved in it, could it. He smiles, and waves a hand as though knocking that reply out of the air between them. "--Excuse me. It must be quite an inconvenience." God, he's been in this tower too long. With an apologetic shrug-- "These days, when the Peacekeepers are busy, I think we're all a little quick to assume the worst."

He's trying not to stare, now that the Peacekeeper's turned around. Noticeable scars aren't common in the Capitol, where blemishes are not often suffered to remain. Even their Tributes, who brutalize each other so thoroughly every few months, come back as whole as they arrived, wearing only the scars they came with. It's not the kind of thing one asks about, of course-- but Cyrus does wonder, for a second.

[lex_paciferat]

"I don't blame you." He turns back to the wall, leaning sideways to check a few other tiny cameras, oblivious to any momentary staring. "It's been one thing after another in this town. I still can't get over that blackout. Talk about a--"

He cuts off, deciding massive fuckup isn't the best choice of words here. "How do I put this politely--incredible security breach. Just goes to show that you can build the most high-tech defenses in the country and all it takes is a few idiots that think it's okay to let a civilian wander around HQ. Perfect example of why training and protocol is so important. I've been working on tightening that up too."

1; sorry this is so belated!!!

[milieus]

Jennifer is pleased to have the additional support of a committed security chief in the Tribute Center. She appreciates working with Buddy Glass, but at the same time, he has an entire police force to organize and contend with. The day to day goings on of the Tower are too minute to really justify his constant surveillance. Having Quintus around gives her the kind of peace of mind that she needs to be an effective administrator.

While taking a break to stretch her legs, she happens upon him working in the South Wing. "My, my, my. This is all so reassuring." She smiles at him, a glinting, practiced expression. "You're hard at work, I see."

No problem! :3

[lex_paciferat]

"Got to get these dead ones down," he says, throwing a slightly lopsided smile back at her--she, of course, is one of the people he's already gotten to know in the short time he's been employed here. "Probably should make one of my staff do it but I'm liking the chance to get familiar with the system layout."

He chuckles at himself. "Oh, who am I kidding. It's more of, I'm a firm believer in 'if you want something done right, you should probably do it yourself.'"

[milieus]

She lets out a soft cluck of a laugh. "Yes, well, I can fully understand that mentality. Especially in a place like this, with so many moving parts."

She looks up at his handiwork admiringly, feeling at once relieved in having a hand in the running of this place. These past few months have been a roller coaster, between arrests of Tributes, attacks on herself, and general seeds of discontent being sewn by wily Tributes. A little help would certainly go a long way.

"I for one appreciate the work you've put in already. I'm sure you've heard about my recent troubles keeping some of the more spirited Tributes in line." That's a direct reference to Eponine's public threats against Jennifer a few months ago. While Eponine has yet to revive, Jennifer still finds herself worrying over the example it set for other Tributes to see.

[lex_paciferat]

"Don't let them get you down." He gives a brief, dismissive wave of his hand. "You can't please everybody. If they end up throwing a tantrum over the network, well, good for them. Just remember who's in charge."

He turns his head again as his fingernails pick at the adhesive backing of another camera, looking curious. "Whatever happened to that one girl, anyway? Locked up? Avoxed?"