[OPEN]

[fivefingereddiscount]

Who | Garrett and you!
What | The Master Thief lurks around in the shadows
Where | Around the Capitol
When | Just before the Crowning
Warnings | tbd

It's been a couple of weeks since he was killed in the arena. As far as he could tell, the game was essentially over, which meant it was definitely time to get out and track down some essential thieving tools. He'd agreed to show Ellis the ropes, after all, and their target had to be back in the city by now. Unfortunately, the natives here hadn't been too wild about talking to him about anything other than the arena, least of all about anything that might lead him to the black market or where he can find so much as a good set of lock picks. Or whatever people used to break in around here. 


And so, he finds himself slinking in the alleys, looking no more significant than the shadows and the garbage strewn around as he listens to passerby. Every city had its scummy characters, and they were usually drawn to the alleys like flies to spoiled fish.

Comments

[yoknapatawpha]

"This place ain't poor." Bayard sounds certain of it, the same way he would if he were asked to describe the color of the sky or the proper way to brush down a horse. "Ain't no one here sleeping on pine needles and eating flour and water to get by."

Bayard knows that the Sartorises are not poor by Jefferson's standards - with their own plantation, they're quite wealthy, with their own land and slaves and a proper house. But he understands deprivation and it shows in the shadow of malnourishment on his body, the symptoms of rationing not enough food. He doesn't see how two people having a domestic dispute are evidence against his assessment.

[fivefingereddiscount]

"Not everyone here is poor...but there's definitely shit under the polish they've put on this place."

It wouldn't surprise him if there were people somewhere living off flour and water. Or shitty jerky and disease-ridden water.

"The Arenas are just a distraction from whatever is really going on here."

[yoknapatawpha]

"That word's a swear," Bayard says. "But I won't tell anyone you said it."

The concept of constant surveillance hasn't sunk in for Bayard yet. He still isn't convinced that Jesus knows everything he does, much less 'videocameras'.

"How can they be just a distraction when they're really happening too?"

[fivefingereddiscount]

"You're allowed to swear when you're a grown-up."

He looks back to the arguing couple.

"It's not for us, it's for them. It's so that they don't think too much about their own problems. As soon as people do that, they start thinking about the problem with everything, and then the people running everything are in real trouble."

[yoknapatawpha]

"Are not."

All of this is far above Bayard's head. It's not that he's an unintelligent child, but he's never had any sort of backing in world history or governance, never lived in direct interaction with any government except the Yankees when they came South for the war.

"How wouldn't they be thinking of their own problems if they were hungry and homeless?"