thecapitol | Tomorrow I'll be stronger, running colorful, no longer just in black and white [Week 6, Open]

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Tomorrow I'll be stronger, running colorful, no longer just in black and white [Week 6, Open]

Who| Linden Lockhearst and Open!
What| After this altercation, Linden had to spend the night in jail. Encounter him at any point during the 24 period during and after this less-than-glamorous ordeal.
Where| Jail, later on the District 6 suite.
When| Week 6
Warnings/Notes| The normal ones for Linden! References to drugs and death are likely.

I. Jail

Linden stares past the rigid plastic handcuffs at his black shoes on white tile. It was only a matter of time, perhaps... withdrawal and the ensuing hell that was sobriety has been rough on him. For the first time in over a decade, he's been forced to look at some of the experiences that have shaped the person he is without the haze of Morphling or alcohol influencing it, resulting in the emergence of a deeply sad and very angry man. Having numbed these emotions for so long means that his ability to deal with them isn't great; an already tense situation with an admittedly horrible District 7 Mentor had escalated and though he'd blacked out past a certain point, he's pretty sure that he hurt the guy. Possibly even enough to need stitches. At that point, it didn't matter who you were or what you'd been through; you at least had to spend a night in jail as a token punishment, and past that, even if you were lucky and the media didn't catch wind, it was inevitable that you'd have to deal with some kind of therapy or conflict-resolution seminar at some point.

There's a forcefield keeping Linden from walking out of his cell, but it's possible to hear through it, even smell through it. There's coffee brewing somewhere nearby, and he approaches the forcefield and tries to get the attention of the nearest Peacekeeper.

"Hey... hey, is that coffee? Can I have some, please?"

The Peacekeeper sighs. "Try to sleep. You can't leave until morning at the earliest, and it gets boring as hell in those cells. It's supposed to, this is a punishment."

"Then let me bum a cigarette."

He's left behind with a brisk, dismissive shake of the Peacekeeper's head.

II. The Next Morning- Bail Posted

"Rise and shine." the Peacekeeper in charge disables Linden's forcefield, and he sits up quickly, having not actually realized that he'd fallen asleep.

"What's going on?" he asks blearily, already reaching for the wastebasket he'd requested they leave in his cell with him. Since quitting Morphling, he's queasy in the mornings sometimes.

"Morning, and someone's posted your bail. Congratulations; 6 must really want their only Mentor back."

"Who was it?"

"Beats me. I'd suck up to them big time, though, they did you a hell of a favor."

III. The Next Morning- District 6 Suites

Linden probably shouldn't have been allowed to return to work so quickly after snapping so obviously and so badly, but he is 6's only Mentor right now, and he's therefore needed. A sweet-voiced woman in a nurse's uniform had stopped by his cell before his bail had been posted and given him a stack of pamphlets, commending him on his efforts to get clean but assuring him that there were more ways to quit than recklessly going cold turkey. She urged him to consider tapering off to avoid a situation like the one he'd ended up in, and explained that mood swings and aggression were common side effects of coming off of a persistent Morphling addiction, and he is broodingly considering it.

He's also considering how the fuck he is going to apologize to Jason Compson. A written apology was one of the conditions for his release, after all, and he takes a deep breath, trying not to clench his fist around his pen and staring at his attempt to write something acceptable.

Dear Mr. Compson,

I'm sorry you're ~~a sadistic brat~~

~~Stupid~~

~~have the self-control of a rabid warthog in front of an all-you-can-eat truffle buffet~~

I'm sorry that I lashed out at you. It was entirely my fault to expect you to be as refined as your bloodline would suggest when you are clearly ~~an Avox-hitting sow of a-------------~~

~~Fuck you, you spoiled~~

It's not going particularly well.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I was joking, now you probably have to issue that public opinion to Ms. Caroline," Leo snorted, "At least you covered your ass!"

It was always an amazing moment when people took Cora's jibes as something serious but Linden was a wild card when it came to this sorts of things. Leo appreciated someone with a humor as dark if not darker than his and of course, respected the Victor's performance in his Arena.

"You should dot the i's with hearts, maybe Jason can have-wait, don't do that, never mind. My mind is seemingly open to some very cruel fates for someone like you."

Now for the actual questions a coworker would ask another, "How was jail?"

Linden's had years to warp and grow crooked, and his sense of humor is no exception. It takes a little while for people to realize he has one, sometimes, but it's absolutely there; it just requires a certain level of squinting and head-tilting to see it.

"Ms. Caroline," he repeats heavily. "Too bad I can't draw hearts very well. Not on that scale... even if people from my District tend to have a knack for art, I can't draw all those little tiny chambers and veins without a needle and a microscope. Too bad."

He shrugs, seeming to dismiss the remark about cruel fates. If he seems flippant about the potential consequences that could still drop for his recent actions, it's likely that he's just resigned to the fact that there's little he can do to alter their outcome.

"Jail was boring, mostly. Just a token punishment... they didn't even let me have my chessboard, can you imagine? Like they were afraid I'd file a Bishop into a lockpick or something."

"Token punishment caused by Jason's inability to empathize with others, fixed that and knowing how crafty you can be? I'd be surprised you didn't even try to use a chess piece as a means to escape. Or the Queen if you want to be a little more symbolic."

Leo settled into a chair nearby, now that his duties were more sponsor asskissing than actual training. He took up any entertainment wherever he found it until the next staff retreat or some other means to punish the escorts, mentors, stylists and other support.

"So, what really happened? I hear Swann's tending to Jason but then again, her sweetness is what offsets that pile of-" LEO, "Whining."

"I'm all for symbolism but the Queen's a pretty impractical shape for that particular use. Bishop's already long and pointed," he explains. "Not that Queen doesn't have her off-board uses, but it's not the kind of thing certain bidders like to have blabbed around the Capitol for some reason. You understand."

Irreverent, but it seems to be improving Linden's mood to have someone who isn't actively scolding him nearby. Despite this, a furrow appears in his pale brow when Leo asks for his side of the story.

"That 'pile of whining' hit an Avox in the mouth for no reason, as far as I could tell. I heard the commotion on the way up to 9, and got off at 7 to investigate. I hadn't been aware Compson had been reassigned and I thought maybe some Tributes were fighting. I guess the Avox had broken a mug, or... maybe he had, and he was just blaming her? I wouldn't put it past him. Anyway we both got some good insults in, but when I started to pick up the pieces of the broken mug he... grabbed me, I guess. Honestly I don't remember anything between that and finding myself on the couch with him ranting and raving, but apparently I cut him. He'll probably need stitches," he adds, with a half-smile. "Oops."

"I do understand." Mostly because the Queen's shape was so strange that it could cause permanent eye damage if used correctly.

To hear Linden's side of the story and hearing that Jason had grabbed the trauma-laden Victor, it made a whole lot more sense than what Swann's assistants were telling everyone. "Figured that he'd instigate the fight. You're barely a hundred pounds wet and a man like Jason would have a temper. Not that you'd be in the minority if the general buzz is to be believed."

A pause, "You know your district is going to get publicly harassed now, but let's be honest, how much sway do they have?"

Linden quirks a brow; clearly, Leo's missed the sexual nature of his implication with the shape of the Queen, judging by his reaction. He was too subtle; maybe it's for the best. It's not exactly the most tasteful or appropriate thing to bring up at any time, but that applies to so much of what a lot of Victors have had to do.

"A hundred ten," he replies quietly, though it's not the point, scarcely a difference, nothing to brag about. "And I have a temper, too, but some men build toward a boil. Others snap."

He shrugs. "We'll get harassed but it will blow over. There's a new story every second in the Capitol and it's not like I've never embarrassed my District before. I believe that everyone has come to expect this sort of thing from me."

Leo missed it but only because his default thoughts aren't in the sexual nature. He simply shrugged at the quirk, and the commentary on temper made the coach roll his eyes.

"As long as you don't head into whatever Stephen Reagan levels of public stupidity, we're good. I enjoy associating with you," Cora pointed out. He had yet to know how bad it could get...

"I thought he was decent."

Linden snorts. He's been as unimpressed with everyone by Stephen's behavior lately, but part of him wonders if there's not some overarching reason for it. He's had brushes with treason before, after all, but... sometimes, Linden is too observant and clever to make his thoughts known without getting people into some pretty big trouble, even if it's posed as mere speculation.

"Thank you," he says gamely. "Likewise... but who did you think was decent? Stephen or Compton? I'm afraid that's not immediately clear to me."

"Stephen for shit's sake, but lately Compson's taking the cake. He's self-serving prick but he's holding his head-up high...right up until this incident happened," Leo pointed out. He too believed the Reagan heir was becoming too ridiculous even by his normal standards. There's sleeping with a Tribute, and then...that. Unless Cyrus has anything to do with it. Then he has to believe Stephen is either a moron or the most savvy evil genius in the Capitol. "We have yet to hear from his brother so this is all Stephen."

Looking at the public apology, the trainer had a laugh, "Will you send that letter? Or are you considering the physical approach?"

"Stephen is decent," Linden insists. "He's just... lost his way lately. His timing is shit," he adds, tone laced thickly with annoyance, "but he's a good man and has helped me out of a lot of jams. Jason Compson, conversely, is a cad, and always has been, even back when he was Escorting for District 10."

He reaches out and crumples up the letter, tossing it over his shoulder.

"I don't know. I don't owe him anything and I believe that my natural sense of justice is rebelling against the idea of giving him anything."

Edited 2015-03-25 21:04 (UTC)

"Physical appearances then, a Compson's rage is a spectacle as long as you're not in the way or the target."

The words 'natural sense of justice' make Leo stifle a rather mean-spirited laugh, mostly out of respect for Lockhearst.

"You're right about Reagan. But when he's on a warpath to destroy his reputation," the trainer sighed dramatic, "He can be terribly efficient. Was he who bailed you out?"

Linden snorts a chuff of brief, humorless laughter at the description. He can't exactly disagree with that. "What do you mean? It's a spectacle, especially if you're in the way or a target," he adds derisively. When he holds contempt for someone, he's pretty blunt about it, and doesn't dance around it or mince words.

"I don't know what he's doing," Linden says, frustration clear in his tone. "He did bail me out, dressed like a chunk of pyrite. It's not the first time he's done that for me, but the first time I've seen him looking like that at 10 in the morning. Doesn't he know how this District looks? I'm not saying that he should shoulder all the burden of keeping us afloat, but... damn it, this isn't the time to abandon ship completely. I can't do this while I'm in recovery; as much as it stings to say so, I'm a better and far more stable Mentor on Morphling and this District needs some stability, so."

Wry laughter.

Leo grabbed a bottle of water from a nearby Avox, and dismissed him promptly before adding, "You can bet your ass Jason is going to use this, this mess to hurt District 6's perceptions towards the sponsors..." A Career with an actual sense of empathy wasn't as rare as the other Districts made it seem, they were simply more aggressive...and almost pathologically wired to be marketable.

"Stephen's got old money and Cyrus. He's got that going for your District and above Jason's hot air and penchant for destroying every human relationship he has," Cora thought out loud, as if playing a political chess game with Linden.

"Yeah, any opportunity to cause damage to something that didn't need it..." Linden mumbles ill-naturedly. "Fortunately I'm not terrible at fixing that kind of thing. Over 10 years and I'm still a Mentor, and that's after almost choking a bidder to death, among other events. We're used to scandal. We're probably better-equipped to handle it than some other Districts."

He rolls his neck, cracking it, taking out another sheet of paper and contemplating it.

"That's something I've noticed. For all of Jason's status, no one seems to particularly like him all that much, maybe with the exception of hi bi-- girlfriend."

"That was a spectacle on your part, you were almost about to kill the man," the trainer took a drink and grinned a little darkly. "You're still a mentor because you're still capable of it and District 6 has been on a good path until shit hit the fan." They had hit their stride then, and thanks in no small part to the Morphling addict with a mind that was at least a few steps ahead.

That shot at Swann's honor earned Leo's stare, "Honeymeade is mixed up in all this as well? I'm officially amused and I'm definitely keeping track of this clusterfuck you have unleashed."

"Yeah, I'm reminded of it often enough, even years later," he says impatiently. "Guaranteed confidentiality aside, if people knew what he was trying, they'd be a lot more understanding of the way I handled the situation."

His tone is blase and put-upon, but a glance catches the dark grin, and he answers it with his own slight smile.

"Yes, it's all very dramatic," he contributes listlessly. "I'm not partial to contributing too much to gossip if I can help it, but I heard Jason isn't the best decision she's ever made, and I'm inclined to agree."

If there were any lines that Leo didn't cross in regards to the bidding process, and there were many he'd allow Victors to be seized upon, there were a few requests that would get the immediate no on his part. The way Linden spoke of the incident with the Capitolite was telling enough, and his face twisted into a scowl.

"Well that explains a lot. Puts the apology he gave you into context."

But as soon as Linden focused on Swann and her bad life decisions, Leo held back a grin, "I'm more of an observer in those regards but you'd have another supporter in that field. Honeymeade tends to be sweet enough but Compson...isn't good for her. Or at least until he straightens up." Cora made no mention of the rumors surrounding the Mentor though, of being too close to a Tribute.

Linden is almost shockingly frank regarding his experiences with bidders; many aspects of keeping that kind of company bore him, and others are tedious or annoying, but there's certainly an emotional roadblock where certain activities are concerned. More than a lot of other Victors, he has rules, and snaps badly when they're broken.

"I don't mind indulging a little bit of roleplay, but I've always made a point of warning everyone to stay away from my neck. That's all it takes to protect me from liability charges, and incidentally also all it takes to get an apology from a man whose trachea I almost crushed."

He seems amused about the apparent previous lack of context, how it must have seemed and sounded to someone without the whole story.

"We're a nation of observers, aren't we?" he asks dryly, turning his pen absentmindedly in his hands. "Even an entertaining trainwreck is still entertaining. Compson's as good for anyone as a third-degree sunburn, and after so many years of being who is his in a progressively more extreme manner, I doubt he's going to change for the better. They're both staff and they can do what they want with each other, I suppose, for as long as they want."

If Cora did bring it up, Linden would be perfectly no-comment in regards to Mentors getting too close to Tributes. What on earth would he know about that?

Leo's laughter is getting harder to contain as he tried to make his appearances as an upstanding member of society hold up against his morbid curiosity. "I'd hate to see that confidentiality clause. Oh wait, no I wouldn't. But to each their own. You came out all right and frankly, I'd hate to see the likes of Kevin taking the reins without you as a buffer."

Jesus Christ, that man was creepy.

The question at hand would get as dry as a response, "Of course we are. We watch how people act along with the norms, put up their masks and make things work. I want to say that Swann will aid him in discovering that not everything is about lineage and old money and being a nasty piece of work," a swig of the water bottle and Cora shrugged, "But it's always something interesting to note how Capitolites view the rules as something malleable while Districters get a penalty for crossing the line."

Linden shivers, but it's not all disgust. Kevin was fascinating to him when he was here for many reasons, and the Mentor had even felt strangely jealous of the man with a chip in his brain that forced him to be in a constant state of bliss and happiness. Even twisted, that wasn't so condemnation-worthy, Linden thinks; it's not so different from drowning sorrows in alcohol or Morphling. He was creepy, but he had an excuse that Linden would probably sell what was left of his soul for.

At least, that used to be the case. These days, he's trying to remember that he has other reasons to be, other important responsibilities that require him to be present and capable of perceiving his surroundings accurately. Maybe not so dire as being in an Arena, but he's in a position to help and protect his Tributes, and he can do that better sober, once he's out of the horrifically uncomfortable withdrawal process and learns how to deal with fear and boredom naturally again.

"I've always felt like I lived on the edge of that," Linden says. "If I wasn't a Victor, I feel I'd have gotten way more than a night in jail for snapping at Compson, but if I was a born Capitolite, like him... I doubt I'd have been punished at all."

"Oh he would've found a way to punish you, Linden; he seems like the type that will find any way to fuck you over for looking at him wrong," Leo spat out, bitter at the differences in social classes between him and Compson, or closer to home, him and Calendius. "He might not have you sent to jail but there are other ways to bring about suffering."

Linden's suffering wasn't a secret and Cora glanced over to the man, "You think you can write that apology sober?"

"Isn't that just the worst kind of bully?" Linden sighs. "It's so far from justice it almost goes around full circle to bump into it again. There are probably ways to combat it, it just has to be... subtle."

He's already thinking of a way to do it, and turning the pen in his hands as he does so.

"Well, I wouldn't say no to a drink, especially with the psychiatrist's blessing. He said that I'm being too ambitious by trying to quit all my vices cold turkey. It's very tempting to take that as a pass."

"You have something planned, don't you?" As if Leo couldn't tell from the body language. He immediately snapped his fingers to the Avox to get the man a glass of brandy, wine was apparently at a premium today.

"Cold turkey or not, you're getting this much on today. You've gotten this far and lesser men would've quit by Week two." Cora knew that a full break would be unsuccessful anyways, especially with alcohol. Two glasses would hold off the migraines that came with Morphling withdrawal.

"Well..." Linden chews the end of the pen, contemplating it. "I definitely have a few ideas, but there will be proofreaders hired to go over it. I can't just fling shit at Compson, I have to wrap it up in a package pretty enough to distract most people from what the gesture really is. That being said, if no one notices it, that rather defeats the point."

He glances up at the finger snap for brandy, already anticipating the warmth of it on the way down... and then his eyes are gradually widening and his jaw is going very slightly slack as Leo just... goes on.

"I realize your profession, but..." he clears his throat delicately. "Are you... seriously coaching me, right now? Are you getting me pumped to get buzzed and write a passive-aggressive letter?"

There wasn't a hint of irony when Leo smirked and said, "Yes. I want to see this happen. I fully recognize I'm a terrible person, and I embrace it."

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