"I got a badge number. I'll be filing an official complaint about it tomorrow. We give these damn bottomfeeders a chance at a better life and they throw it in our faces, they act like they aren't here by our own generosity, and I say I wouldn't be letting them forget that they're from the Districts if it were up to me-"
He rambles on, looking near-manic, as if the sense of injustice is a jolt of electricity to his usually depleted battery. He looks at Swann with wild eyes that seem wider to take in all of her shock and agreement, like a lake reflecting the moon, swallowing up the light. He sits back down on the bed, leaning forward so she can inspect the injury, see that it's well-stitched and clean because he doesn't trust the medic at the Tribute Center to have done a decent job of it. It doesn't matter that Swann doesn't have a background in first aid; he trusts her more.
"This whole country's gone to hell, what I say. No one wants to say it, but they all know that we're going under and some of us have just been unlucky enough to get our feet wet first. Maybe this'll show them, maybe if they realize that Mentors can go around cutting up Citizen faces we'll get some actual laws enforced around here."
But he's already starting to tire, the outrage a poor substitute for passion, for a sustainable argument. He sighs and grits his teeth and clenches his fists but knows that come tomorrow he won't want to put the effort into making a visible fit, won't want to invite more investigation into his family for the sake of some publicity.
no subject
He rambles on, looking near-manic, as if the sense of injustice is a jolt of electricity to his usually depleted battery. He looks at Swann with wild eyes that seem wider to take in all of her shock and agreement, like a lake reflecting the moon, swallowing up the light. He sits back down on the bed, leaning forward so she can inspect the injury, see that it's well-stitched and clean because he doesn't trust the medic at the Tribute Center to have done a decent job of it. It doesn't matter that Swann doesn't have a background in first aid; he trusts her more.
"This whole country's gone to hell, what I say. No one wants to say it, but they all know that we're going under and some of us have just been unlucky enough to get our feet wet first. Maybe this'll show them, maybe if they realize that Mentors can go around cutting up Citizen faces we'll get some actual laws enforced around here."
But he's already starting to tire, the outrage a poor substitute for passion, for a sustainable argument. He sighs and grits his teeth and clenches his fists but knows that come tomorrow he won't want to put the effort into making a visible fit, won't want to invite more investigation into his family for the sake of some publicity.
"How do you feel?"