thecapitol | [open] Build it up with Silver and Gold

Entry tags:

[open] Build it up with Silver and Gold

Who| Phillip Gray and anyone he runs into!
What| A sort of catch-all post
Where| Commons Area, and Tower Gardens
When| April 12-16
Warnings/Notes| Mentions of death, more to be added!

[A] District 6 Suite Common Area
After the Crowning, Phillip felt almost lost in the haze of what was probably deadtime. He had yet to master a proper way to cool down from stress, from survival, hell, even a hangover was becoming a longer than usual fog in his mind. Training only did so much for his mood and studying the Arenas was an exercise in torture, more so when he watched his Mentor's Arena. He understood why Lockhearst said that about District 6 being grateful, hell even other districts were on that boat too: he couldn't help flinch as every child that died hit closer and closer to home. Hell, he had to stop at one of them getting crushed and another one being blown up. He knew how easily someone could betray another, to build up the trust and then feel the knife twist. Granted, Phil was thinking about a more metaphorical betrayal but seeing the knife slice through the young Linden's neck, it was the last Arena he saw that day, and ever. No thank you sir, Phil has finally learned to enjoy sleeping again.

For now, Phil sits in the common area, reading a trashy Capitol Harlequin, and laughing along ridiculous amounts of debauchery presented as romance. Maybe even people watching if he's had enough of the literary shenanigans that passed off as a love story. At least Gray did pick up where he left off, and sipped from his soda can, something sweet for the day. He doesn't read this sort of things for the plot, heavens no, but for sport. That and he had to keep an eye out for the rumors.
[B] Training Center then headed to the Capitol

"Wow, this is…this is heavy," the Phone Guy said in awe as he held a handgun for the first time in his life. Every movie, schlock or not made it seem like firearms were lighter, more wieldy than what he was holding. Full of blanks of course but it was still so strange. So this was the weapon that ended his life in Arena 13, and yet…he wasn't that bitter that Nick killed him in that way. Better than what awaited him back home that's for sure.

If the Crowning and Stephen's strip club prank have done anything, it's that Gray needed to make some public relations catch-up. He wasn't that sort of guy that would just pay for some lady to take her top off! Stephen probably meant well, but Jesus Christ, there were still Capitolites that showed him the infamous pictures at the Dancing Bear and asking about it. Not even Fazbear's PR team could make this into something decent. What if he got bid on? He wasn't that ready to face that sort of this deal.

"This is gonna be interesting," he muttered as he practiced disabling the dummy's tendons then jabbing it on every major artery. He never went for the chest though, through the heart was much more trouble than it was actually worth…which meant he struggled on getting the weapon back. "Maybe I can find that…foxling Miss Honeymead told me about." He's mostly talking to himself at this point, but he welcomes anyone who walks in.

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Most of the time, Linden's imagination would surpass the reality and yet there were some aberrations of common sense that solidified Phil's belief in Darwinism. Like those teenagers that decided it'd be a funny idea to make out in Pirate Cove only to be scared witless when it was his shift.

"I'm just..." he ran a hand over his messy hair, he'd not even tried to keep a semblance of his usual professional appearance when he trained. "I guess I'm still getting used to the idea that, hey, you're the guest and the employee here, now smile and enjoy the-"

His line of thought was lost as soon as he realized, "I left my good coat at the Dancing Bear." Fuck his life right now.

Linden gnaws on his thumbnail for a good several ticks.

"Your 'good coat,' is it?" he asks. "You... don't want it back if it was overnight in the Dancing Bear, you realize."

"Grody. It's gonna smell like ass and, eww," Why yes, Phillip Gray is a functioning adult, why do you ask? He groaned, sounding like a dying animal than a person, "That was the first thing I bought with my death money."

Beat.

"I said that with a straight face and sober. I think I'm acclimating well." He sunk further into the chair.

Linden bites his lip, waiting out the realization and the reaction patiently.

"It's just a thing," he says. "You can buy another one. Probably three of them, for the same amount of money you'd pay on dry cleaning to get the glitter and ass out of coat you left at that place."

He mumbles something difficult to make out about Stephen and how he just doesn't understand some of the activities the Escort finds appealing.

The logic is sound and well, and Phil knew he was being petulant, "Yeah I figured it's probably better off burned. But holy hell, I should have been more careful." He shrunk a little in his chair, he thought he could have a spoiled brat moment.

The mumbling would get a nod and a shy shrug out of Gray, he thought he had a better understanding of people but NOPE. Though now that they're talking about buying new things...

"Sir, what's this place's policy on pets?" He wouldn't want to bring a chatty little foxling only to have it be a problem with his Districtmates.

For all of Linden's quirks and eccentricities and occasionally irrational neuroses, his logic, at least, is usually pretty sound.

"I'd say to try to learn from your mistakes, but... I happen to know that neither of us are fantastic at that," he says dryly. "As for pets..."

He pauses, seeming a little caught off-guard by that question.

"It's just surprising, is all. In a lot of Districts they're considered frivolous, more of a Capitol thing, since it's another mouth to feed. I don't think there's inherently a problem with it, but... I'd have to check. This just doesn't really come up," he explains, tugging at the hair at the base of his neck and looking mildly troubled.

"You'd be right, I have terrible short-term memory to pain and self-awareness," Phillip admitted with a sigh; he could have avoided so many problems in his life had he had either of those traits.

The answer did give more insight into Linden's way of thinking, but no amount of professionalism would make Gray's answer any less strange, "I-I uh, well, I ran into Miss Honeymead when I was out," while Stephen was wrecking District 6's image and Linden was cutting Jason a new one, "She showed me the pet shop and...well I wanted to make sure I was creating a disturbance or a hassle if I got one."

"Honeymead?"

That's right, Jason's...

He sighs.

"I'm going to tentatively say that it's fine. Obviously if someone with higher authority than I possess tells you otherwise it has to be vetoed, but I do not have a problem with an animal in the suite, provided you keep it out of my room."

"I'll make sure it stays where it needs to and not interfere with the others or with you, sir," Phillip understood what this permission was and like hell he was going to abuse the trust he'd built over what had once been a childhood dream. "Thank you."

The sigh is caught, "Has she been a, um," There was no denying she had something going on with Compson but the news were getting crowded, "I don't want to add to the Capitol gossip but has she given you trouble for what happened with Mr. Compson?" Gray had yet to encounter in their full glory just how petty and malicious Capitolites could be outside of Stephen and that experience with Swann. It was also the first time he acknowledged the face slashing event.

Linden chuffs a slight breath of laughter.

"You treat me with so much... I don't know, respect. It's nice. I'll admit it makes me want to do things that will help you."

In response to the question about Honeymead, Linden reaches toward his dark, tangled hair, working through a knot with his fingertips.

"Not that I'm aware of," he says, lowering his voice, "but that ultimately doesn't mean much. She could be talking about it to no one or everyone. When you're the subject of gossip, especially a vicious instigator, as I've been made out to be, certain details are obfuscated on their way back to you through the rumor mill. I can guarantee that she isn't happy about it."

That reaction was a strange one for a man used to being both a manager and an employee, "Well, I was taught that I should respect people in different ranks than me. My dad didn't leave much when he passed, but he did leave me a good work ethic." This same concept was probably why he remained so loyal to the company and now District 6. Wait what was that part about willful instigator?

"I don't peg you as the type to pick fights with Capitolites taller than you." That's as much as he could take from the incident, and when Swann asked, Phil politely declined to make any accusations or comments that took away confidence from D6 staff.

Linden's used to awe and respect to an almost intimidating degree from the kids who are Reaped from 6, but with offworlders, it's a very mixed bag. Karkat, for example, has no problem whatsoever giving him serious lip.

"I'm not the type," Linden says. "But I am the type to disapprove of beating Avoxes, and like a fair number of Victors, I've kind of got a thing about being grabbed or yanked suddenly. That's pretty much the long and short of it." He pauses, squinting. "All I really did was make some snide comments and try to pick up the pieces of the broken mug that started his rampage."

"I'm starting to think that Capitolites aren't all what they seem, f-for better or worse," Phil piped up and immediately stated, "Maybe I'm adjusting to being outside my first Arena. Really scrambled my brain, you know?"

Cover thy ass was the norm, more so whentalking about conflicts.

"Just his way or the high way, I suppose. A-As long as your reputation isn't damaged beyond what's happened." But under his breath, Gray sighed out, "How does that man function?"

"Yeah," Linden says softly. "It's OK. I know. As for my reputation... well, suffice it to say it's had its ups and downs over the years. No matter what happens, though, I won the 63rd Games and that's never going to go away, so... I have that in my favor, and Victors get a lot of leeway."

He shakes his head. "Barely? Capitolites get a lot o leeway, too, they just don't earn it."

"Barely doesn't mean 'be a di-" PHILLIP, "Rude to people reaped in the service of others," Gray spat out of his mouth but quickly caught on and sighed, "Sorry, I know...not from here."

Ad yet we all dealt with the same problem: Capitolites being...Capitolites. Phil sighed as he heard that pro-Capitol radio-show, praising D12 again and adding Jason's song as accurate, "Like that sir?

"Offworlders get leeway, too," Linden chuckles, unable to hide his amusement at Phillip's small eruption. "You don't have to apologize, at least not to me. And yes, just like that," he confirms with a light eye-roll. "For all his flaws, no one born here seems to be able to see them. Probably all the glitter in their eyes."

Normally, the Phone Guy is pretty collected and always tries to be genial towards everyone, it was just how he was. Except for two people and one of them was Jason Compson IV.

"Here I thought Stephen had the glitter problem."

To the Brig, he knows he'll probably end up but he never meant true harm in his statement, just good-nature poking at the man who tricked Phil into going into a strip club.

"They just seem like they live in a bubble..." he said while stretching his back and then standing up, "Beer?" So much for sobriety.

"Look around. Everyone's wearing finally grated bits of metal," Linden laughs. "But it's not quite a problem until it's Stephen," he admits, leaning back on the table, missing, and overbalancing so that he spills onto the floor.

He's up again quickly, but he's clearly shaken from the tumble. He's drunker than he thinks he is, and anyone who knows him at all knows that this is pretty typical for the Mentor with his own significant problems.

Uh huh...Phil's on the still getting to know part of the relationship with his Mentor so he tries to help Linden sit up. "I guess you beat me to the punch, sir," he joked for a moment before he picked up the messes. Old habits never die and cleanliness was a requirement to work in Freddy's.

"Let's not get you drunk, I'll make some coffee a-and I suggest you sleep it off...dream of whatever this book has in store for my eyeballs." The least he could do!

"What, there's punch...?" Linden murmurs, staring up at Phillip as the man offers him some support, which he ultimately opts to take. "I'd rather have punch than coffee."

"No punch unless it's the virgin type," Gray just laughs at this, "How much did you have this morning? An Irish breakfast?"

Again, Phil tends to forget that Europe ceased existing in this world a while back, so Ireland and the connotations of a boozy breakfast will probably get lost in the translation. What a tragedy for someone like Linden to not know it.

"Actually took a couple of pills," Linden mumbles. "I guess they hit harder than I thought they would. Don't worry about it, I just have to adjust to the way they make me feel, which... is still a piss-poor stand in for Morphling," he sighs, rubbing at one of his eyes with the heel of his hand.

Seeing all this, Phil simply stands up and offers his hand to his Mentor, "Come on, you're in no shape and I don't think the interview people will be forgiving towards finding you dead asleep in the common area."

Public Relations may not be District 6's expertise but the Phone Guy was grateful to have this man as his guide in this world. If anything, they had a similar penchant for alcohol.

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[open] Build it up with Silver and Gold

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