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

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."

"You must also fully recognize that this could get me in a hell of a lot of trouble," Linden says, but he's already starting to write, seeming ultimately untroubled by the possibility. "Well, as I've always liked to say... I guess it's future-Linden's problem, isn't it?"

He accepts the glass of brandy from the Avox, raising it in a humorless toast before tipping back a generous swallow.

"That's one drink down, Linden, better make the other one count," Leo may not have as much self-restraint as Calendius when it came to vices but he was one to enforce anything he set out to do. And in this case, he wanted to see what kind of insanity the District 6 mentor could come up with on the fly.

One drink down didn't last long enough, and Linden seems a little bit disappointed about that, but he takes a deep breath, the brandy warming it on the way down. He takes his pen and spends a good several minute scribbling, before turning a sheepish gaze back to Leo.

"I like limericks," he confesses. "I guess I had to get some things out of my system before my serious attempt."

He hands the page over to Leo as he turns back to the Avox to accept more brandy.

An Escort who works in Panem
Must be a sparkling gem.
But when you dump out the box,
Sometimes you get rocks,
Surely Compson is one of them.

I once met a man who was smothered,
By his bag of a Dynasty mother.
She taught him his manners
With drums and with hammers,
Which explains why he's always so bothered.

There once was a Capitol pox,
who sucked a plethora of cocks.
One day he was dumb,
Broke his mug full of cum,
And took it out on a helpless Avox.

"That last one may have gotten away from me, but you can say it. I'm a genius."

Edited 2015-03-31 05:06 (UTC)

Leonidas shrugged with a grin, "It's your style, it wouldn't be that problematic. And it's different..."

Boy howdy was it different. By the time Leo finishes the twisted little poem, he's actively laughing his District 2 ass off.

"If you're not keeping this, I am. You've truly outdone yourself, Lockhearst!"

Linden busies himself with swallowing basically as much brandy as he can while Leo's preoccupied reading his rushed and irreverent poetry. If he wanted some District 6 insanity, he'd come at a good time, and asked an appropriate individual for maximum inappropriateness.

"Take it," he invites, with a one-shouldered shrug. "It'll surely change Panem forever... but I'm not signing it. There's flirting with trouble and then there's banging on its door and asking to get shot."

"I will treasure your letter and pass it on to my children," Cora added with the laughter that came along with the lurid poem and the context that brought it on. "You do not disappoint though it's fairly obvious I'm not the best influence to write this letter."

No, not really.

"You're never going to finish at this rate..." Not Leo's problem, "If you need another bail out, call me up."

"You'd show this to children?" Linden snorts, intentionally missing the man's actual point. "Well then, I'm honored, even if what you're saying is depressingly true and I'm not going to get this finished with you around."

He shrugs, the glass of brandy in his hands. "Well, the seal's broken, so at least there's something else to fall back on."

"Well, might as well learn at home before they learn on the street, as my father used to say," Leo clarified as he got up from his laughing fit and dusted himself from it and the lack of respect for his fellow Support Staff.

The coach then served himself a hearty glass from that bottle, as if to keep that very advice he'd given earlier, "I meant what I said, Lockhearst. Two glasses and that's it, even for you."

"Hm, is that so? I wouldn't know about that," Linden says absently. "I guess my father's always been the quiet sort."

Ha, ha...

"But they were very small glasses..." he protests half-heartedly, knowing full well that he's not going to win this. Admittedly, he's just a little bit grateful in that regard.

That was dark, even for Cora. Linden's family was always a subject that he never brought up unless the Mentor brought it up. Being Avoxed and held as an example was always a traumatic event for anyone who tuned in or watched the news. More so when it was a Mentor's parents. Leo makes no remark or folly of this and merely focused his energy onto the alcohol.

"Two glasses and filthy poetry, it's a fair trade for enabling your vice and your creative tendencies," Leo argued with a degree of playful finality. "You could have gone sober but then you would've found other ways."

The fate of Linden's parents is a better-kept secret than most in Panem, and it's for this reason alone that he feels safe joking about it as a broken little coping mechanism. Avoxed family members are a mark of shame, and for a Victor, it's doubly horrible, to the point where after Linden had one his Games a couple was briefly trotted out to act as his parents without actually being related to him. The public impression is that Linden found his parents and had a happy ending in that regard, closing off all of his interview stories very neatly indeed, but the truth is known to a few people, and it's very sad and jarring. Linden notices the way Leo's attention shifts to more fully encompass the alcohol, and he stiffens for a second, but then they're moving on. Maybe it was nothing.

Shouldn't flirt so much with trouble, anyway...

"Well, you know me," Linden says with a fractured smile. "Where there's a will, there's absolutely a way, and when you win the Games you do whatever you have to to survive."

Even if surviving just means being distracted long enough to not take your own life.

Watching that crowning was cringeworthy when the couple didn't quite look like they could have produced Linden. It was either Avoxed or executed, making the quiet father remark as morbid as it was tragic. The rumor mills painted a gruesome picture anyways, so Leo did his best to sidestep the issue at hand.

"Knowing you, you could have stashes in the laundry room, just to fuck with the Peacekeepers," he added with the same candor as before, "Or the books. It's hard to tell at this point."

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TW for filthy drunken poetry

this is beautiful.

8D

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