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

[dead_black_eyes]

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.

Comments

[crabmunicator]

Karkat's hesitance lingers, and he eyes Linden in turn for eying up his pastry bag. He clutches it closer to himself as he steps over closer, albeit with a respectable space between them still.

"I heard the rough outline," he says in a measured tone. "And so long as I'm a tribute, I'm not going to be slapping or grabbing anyone without seriously good reason." Especially not after that time the Initiate slammed him into a wall. If not for Nill...

He plunks the bag on the tabletop. "I got doughnuts, and they were for myself, but if you give me the full story of what happened I might be persuaded to share. You did get me sponsors last time, and I'm not a complete selfish bastard."

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden quirks a brow at the troll's obvious possessiveness in regards to the donuts as Karkat draws gradually closer.

"The rough outline... so it's probably not really representative of the actual sequence of events," he sighs. "Leave it to Jason to manipulate this to the best of his ability..." he continues eyeing the bag as Karkat sets it down nearby, almost within arm's reach.

"If you're not a complete selfish bastard, I guess I can tell you about it," he decides. "So I was on my way up to District 9 to visit my friend there, and when I was passing 7 I heard a commotion. I thought it was Tributes fighting and it was my intention to break it up, but it turned out that Compton, who is nasty piece of work, was slapping around one of the Avoxes over a broken mug. I'd been unaware that he was reassigned... he took a years-long hiatus after serving as an Escort for District 10, and what I remember of being a Tribute myself was that he was the Escort you didn't want. He did his job well enough, but he didn't see his Tributes as people. He dislikes me already because 10's boy came in 3rd in the 63rd Hunger Games, and he wasted a lot of money and resources getting him that far. Because 10 died, he couldn't take a vacation he wanted to, and I'm pretty sure he's held it against me ever since."

He gestures toward the bag of donuts. "One now, and one when the story's over?" he bargains. "I really am starving."

[crabmunicator]

By the end he's still frowning, but with a sigh he opens the bag and holds it out. "Go on. The stuffed ones have jelly in them." The selection is a bit random otherwise. He's got a sweet tooth and he likes different things.

"As for that Compton guy, I've never met him and am suddenly glad I haven't. At least you seem like you give a shit," he grants. "Though you are pretty weird as even my limited exposure has told me. You realize that even if he is that like, that was a stupid decision, right?"

Honestly, he wouldn't be happy to see someone slapping the Avoxes around either. They're a bit weird, and he's not always sure how to handle them, but he values them higher than he does most Capitolites. He'll keep his mouth shut on that opinion, though.

[dead_black_eyes]

He reaches out quickly when the bag is offered, and there's something vaguely bristly and animal about the way he picks over the choices. He goes for a jelly one, but he pulls a wastebasket over beside him shortly after he's withdrawn with his prize. As he's getting used to actual nutrition again, it's difficult to predict what's going to actually upset his stomach, and sometimes his ambition with going for richer items is something he has to pay for.

"He lives upstairs now. You'll probably run into him eventually," Linden says in casual warning as he licks and nibbles at the donut. "And the Games change people," he reminds Karkat, "...but in all fairness, if you ask anyone in 6, I was always strange, even before I was reaped."

He pauses before continuing, chewing and swallowing his first bite and then a second.

"I haven't finished yet. You're assuming that it was a decision. There were some insults, but my temper isn't so bad that words will send me off. It's actually not even bad enough that hitting Avoxes will. I mean... I called him out on his breeding, but what it came down to was the moment I reached down to pick up the pieces of the mug. It angered him and he grabbed me and tried to pull me up and from there I don't actually remember what happened. I blacked out," he confesses, with a shrug. "I'm OK with a lot of things, and he just happened to accidentally trip over something that every molecule in my body reacts badly to. It was a reflex. My mind, or any kind of decision, had nothing to do with it."

[crabmunicator]

Karkat conspicuously raises an eyebrow when Linden drags the wastebasket over, but he took just one as said, and that's good enough for now. He looks into the bag himself as Linden continues. (His pick is a regular chocolate ring, frosted white with sprinkles.)

"I'll keep an eye out," he answers to the warning, with less dread than he actually feels. It's a pain in the ass having to play nice to the Capitolites, but with this guy it's bound to be that much worse. He stuffs a bite into his mouth.

If Karkat knew much about PTSD or similar issues, he might be able to pick out what happened. Instead he's left to compare what he's told with trollish instincts. It's not the same, and he knows it's not normal for humans, but does Linden count under the normal banner? He's not a Capitolite but a mentor, a former victor, and even one go through the arena is bad enough.

"Sounds shitty." He's staring at the pattern of sprinkles on his doughnut rather than look at him. "But at least you didn't fuck up on purpose, however much that means here. Which, considering your recent absence, I will guess isn't much. Consider my hands wholly absent from your personal bubble." He wiggles them (and his doughnut with them).

It's not even a big concession. He worries enough about death and injury during the games to not avoid risks outside them.

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden is better off starting with one. After he successfully keeps it down, well... then he might try for a second, but for now, that's uncertain and maybe aiming a little too high in terms of aspirations.

What happened is very human and very in-line with that type of traumatic disorder, but it's understandable and very fair that Karkat's frame of reference is, for lack of a better word, alien. "It's shitty," he says with a sudden and slightly wild laugh. "And no... even if I can't say I fully regret what happened, if I'd been in control of the situation, any fantasies of cutting him open would have remained in confinement. It means something, but as you said, not very much... it's seen as a problem to be hidden if it can't be fixed, and the Capitol, if you haven't noticed, is fantastic at hiding things." he takes a bite of his donut, inclining his head in acknowledgment and thanks when Karkat promises not to make the same mistake Jason did.

"You're close with Nill, aren't you? It's a shame about what happened to the two of you in the Arena. How are you faring, following that?"

[crabmunicator]

Being from different planets and different universes, Karkat would be the first between them to call their viewpoints alien to one another if it ever came up. He's well used to it.

He lifts an eyebrow at the laugh, and it stays up for the rest. "I'll be holding my tongue on what the Capitol does or doesn't do," he comments, and takes another bite of doughnut. Were he granted the freedom he'd have giving it a mile long tear down ages ago, but he's not looking to get himself in trouble, especially after this.

He about chokes on his bite at the question that follows. "Augh, fuck--" He cups a hand over his mouth, coughing some until he can manage to get it down right. A knuckle nudges away a hint of pink from where his eyes had just started to water. If some of that color has risen to his cheeks, it's only because of the choking. Really.

"We're friends," he says, and it's not wrong. Any thoughts about accidental pale flirting are not something he's going to spill to Linden of all people. "And last arena had worse shit to compare to. I got sent back to my world to die immediately after, and I'm not going to pretend no one saw how the previous arena went."

Guilty as he felt about dying to the smilodon before he could save her, it doesn't compare to having to mercy kill her. His fans made sure it kept on coming up.

[dead_black_eyes]

It's hard enough being a stranger in a strange land. Hailing from the dry and dusty District 6 and winding up in the lavish Capitol, Linden knows that well enough, and can only imagine what it would be like to be a stranger on a strange planet. Back when 6 was also the space travel and exploration District, maybe he would have been able to imagine it better.

Karkat's clear awkwardness surrounding the subject is almost cartoonishly blatant. Choking, coughing, swearing, is that even blushing? He snorts slightly; as someone who doesn't blush much anymore after so much time spent in the Capitol and living its lifestyle, it's strangely refreshing, and he appreciates that kind of emotional candor, even if it's unintentional. He doesn't have to say anything for the past Victor to guess a fair amount.

"Friends are good," he says enthusiastically. "It's good that you've found such a fast one in this place. And I remember the last Arena, yes... that was difficult to watch."

More difficult, maybe, than the countless other deaths Linden's witnessed not just as a participant in the Arena, but as a citizen of Panem.

"That being said, I don't think you made the wrong choice."

[crabmunicator]

"... Yeah," Karkat manages after a moment, only looking at him from the side of his vision. He's not close to Linden by any means, and for a number of reasons he's not sure he'd want to pursue outright friendship with him. The sympathy for all its good intent feels strange.

"It's not a choice I ever want to make again," he says plainly, gaze sliding away. If there's something stiff to his tone, it's only because he doesn't want to spill those emotions here.

Instead he shifts things by asking, "You know her, right? She told me a little about you before, and you... sent her that drink in the arena?" His eyebrow lifts, matching the uncertainty of his tone. "Whatever your humans call your soporifics. Why that?"

[dead_black_eyes]

Karkat's far from alone in that regard. Linden unsettles people; in addition to being the rare human who can elicit the uncanny valley response in other humans, he shares a similar quality to one who is terminally ill and candidly loosening his grip on the mortal coil. Though there's a fascination with death in the Capitol, it's a romantic and glorified version of it, and when faced with the frailty and decay and reality of wasting addiction, people would rather avert their eyes. Linden's unflinchingly aware of it, and one of his last remaining refuges is reveling in making others uncomfortable with his sheer existence.

"I sent her a drink, among other things..." he confirms. "I knew she'd probably give the useful items to you or Clementine, but the vodka was for her. I guess I sent it because I thought it would make her smile, and I like it when she does that."

[crabmunicator]

"Hmm."

Not as clarifying as he expected it to be, but he doesn't press for more. That kind of drink always made Rose cheery and personable, so if it's not enough to be a problem, maybe he shouldn't worry.

The other comment about giving away the useful stuff makes him bite at his lip.

"I," he starts, pauses, then starts again. "I had to argue her into eating something." If Linden was watching, he imagines he probably saw it. "And bandage her leg up. She's good at worrying about other people, but it seems like she doesn't put much thought into taking care of herself." His voice is a little distant as he says it.

[dead_black_eyes]

Sadly, it's enough, or at least borders on enough to be quite a problem. A fair amount of Nill and Linden's bonding comes from sharing vices, and before Linden's attempt to try to get sober, drinking together was one way they accomplished this. It's an inside joke as much as it is pretty sad and peacefully accepting of another's self-destructive tendencies, embracing what would be too painful to change and helping each other pick up the pieces.

He nods, eyes downcast, because of course he watched, and of course he remembers. "She doesn't want to win," he says softly. "She wants to stay alive only as long as she can protect you and Clementine while you're in the Arena together, but even though I've tried talking to her about being a Victor, she seems to think that she can be more valuable to you inside it. She's the sort of person who sets herself up for heartbreak over and over again, and people like that don't have much of an appetite in my experience."

[crabmunicator]

Oh. Ow. Something in Karkat's chest aches just to hear that, and again he can't meet Linden's eye. His doughnut gets the brunt of his stare again, though his focus is anywhere but.

She cares a lot and she's too kind for her own good, but how is she supposed to survive and make it if she doesn't look after her own self? Obviously that's the point from what Linden has told him, and while he can understand not caring enough to win, something of her reasons and presentation still strike him too hard to just ignore. No wonder she was so stubborn, no wonder he had to argue at her--and to think, after all she told him, all the worlds she's been through, she's still that selfless.

"Fuck." He scrubs a hand over his face. "She..."

She needs someone to look after her is what he feels, but he can't bring himself to say it.

He pushes the bag of doughnuts at Linden. "Take them. I need to go on a walk."

[dead_black_eyes]

Years of talking to people without much time left has made Linden pretty candid. He tends not to hold back or mince words, and the result can be jarring, or at least a little too close to the truth to be comfortable. There's a reason President Snow prefers him in a drug-addled and mentally removed state.

Linden prefers that state, too. It's so much harder to look at things for what they are when he's relatively powerless to change them. As much as he cares about Nill, he recognizes that there's only so much he can do to change her habits, and precious little to change her nature... no matter how much she's looked after.

Linden sets the sack of donuts on the table, continuing to turn his not-even-half-finished one in one of his long, emaciated hands. "Thank you," he says hollowly, even though they'll be there untouched long after Linden's left, along with the remnants of the donut he started eating when he still thought he could finish two.

His experience, indeed.