thecapitol | Give me a shot at the night [CLOSED]

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Give me a shot at the night [CLOSED]

Who| Beck and Emily
What| ~~Outrageous flirting~~ After celebrating her new job, Beck brings the party to Emily.
Where| Emily's D7 suite.
When| The... 14th, I think? The night following Beck's network post. About 2am.
Warnings/Notes| Drunkenness and flirting?

She'd meant to come back to the Center at a reasonable time, she really had. After all, she had work in the morning, and she'd had some stuff she was planning on getting done. But plans tended to go out of the window where drinking and dancing on tables were involved, and the next thing she knew, it was the early hours of the morning. She'd lost her jacket somewhere, and her skin was stiff with sweat. But she'd remembered her offer to Emily, so it wasn't her own room on the twelfth floor that she rolled up to. Instead, she stopped at the seventh, and knocked on Emily's door.

"Emily?" she called, doing a surprisingly good job of keeping her voice hushed for someone who was three sheets to the wind. "It's Beck! Brought you a drink!" Several drinks, actually. There was a portable cooler under her arm, filled with six different kinds of cocktail. She hadn't known which sort Emily would like, and, hey, she could afford it now!

Emily was likely to be treated to something of an eyeful when she opened the door. Beck was in her clubbing clothes, which seemed to consist mostly of body paint, a few strategically-placed straps and scarves, and eight-inch heels sharp enough to stab a man with. Somehow, she was keeping her balance perfectly on them, despite being clearly drunk. Years of practice had its advantages.

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By the time midnight had come and gone, Emily was sure that Beck had got caught up in partying and forgotten all about the offer of cocktails. She'd finished up her work and gone to bed, falling into a sleep that was light but free of nightmares for once. The knock startles her awake, and it takes her a moment to realise who's at the door, her first reaction as always being that she was back in the Games and was jerked awake by something out to get her, then wondering if one of her Tributes was having troubles.

She answers the door in an oversized shirt and pyjama bottoms with birds printed on them, squinting out at Beck in the half darkness. "Oh! Hey," she replies a little groggily. She's about to suggest that she changes from pyjamas into her day clothes, but when she sees how Beck is dressed she decides that her own outfit is hardly worth quibbling over. "Come on in."

"Hey," Beck replies brightly, with a grin, and steps in past Emily, putting the cooler down on the nearest flat surface. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up. Just lost track of time, you know?" Which is, in fairness, completely true. She runs both hands back over her hair, perching on the end of Emily's bed with a smile. "Cute pyjamas, by the way. I'm serious. You're the most adorable thing I've ever seen."

If Emily is groggy and half-asleep, Beck seems determined to make up for it by being as ridiculously chirpy and energetic as ever.

Emily shuts the door and turns on the overhead light, shielding her eyes for a second at the brightness, then making her way over to her bed and sitting cross legged, throwing one of her pillows toward Beck for if she wants to make herself more comfortable.

She laughs a little self-deprecatingly at the compliment, glancing down at her unflattering attire. "In that case, maybe I'm not the one who needs to get out more." It's said in a light, teasing tone, though she definitely doesn't think of herself as adorable.

"No. No, don't question me." Beck laughs, fumbling the catch and, as a result, getting hit in the chest with the pillow. Grinning, she picks it up out of her lap and wraps her arms around it, resting her chin on the top of it. "I'm a Stylist, sweetheart. I know fashion. Not that that's fashion." She laughs, a little too loudly, and looks Emily over. "But I'm also, you know, a girl. With eyes. Who can tell when something's adorable. You're adorable."

She smiles a little as she says it, then shakes her head, bouncing back to her feet to head over to the cooler. "Okay, what d'you fancy? I brought you, uh..." Snapping open the lid of the cooler, she starts to lift out cocktail shakers, each with a label. "Tequila Sunrise, if you're up for the classics. Or a mojito. Uh, Tribute's Nipple, that one's weird but nice. Can't remember what's in the Falling Glitter, but it's strong. This one's just really green. Can't even remember why I picked this one. So, what'll it be?" She turned around, a shaker in each hand, and grinned.

Emily feels the blush spread to her cheeks, and she purses her lips together to prevent her from responding with something silly, though she looks pleased. She bursts out laughing at the names of some of the cocktails - so typically Capitol.

"I think I'll start with a mojito and work my way up to the stronger ones from there."

"Boring," Beck teases, and pouts, but she pulls out the mojito shaker, putting it to one side. "Hold up. I'll grab us some glasses, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, she ducks back out of the room, stilettos tapping softly on the carpet, and comes back a few moments later with two glasses. Pouring out the mojitos, she holds one out to Emily before settling herself back on the bed.

As soon as she's gone, Emily springs up from her bed and shoves the bits and pieces that were scattered on her floor under the bed, including her clothes from that day, and straightens up the bed covers while she's at it. She accepts the glass from Beck gladly, not drinking quite yet but holding it up toward the other woman. "To the new lead stylist."

Beck laughs, clinking her glass against Emily's, and shakes her hair back. "I'll drink to that," she agrees, grinning from ear to ear. "Thanks, sweetheart. Good to know I'm not on my own up here." Raising her glass just a little, she knocks back half the cocktail at once. She's been drinking all evening; the time for moderation has altogether passed her by.

Emily sips at her cocktail, feeling the alcohol going to her head straight away. "It can feel like you are sometimes, depending on who your District staff are, but really we're all trying to achieve the same thing here."

"Keep people happy. Put on a show." Beck tips the Mentor a wink, swirling her mojito. "Trust me, I know all about that. My speciality. Well, that and some frankly fucking amazing alcohol tolerance."

"Those are both essential skills around here," Emily agrees, draining her glass.

"Yep." Beck nods, grinning, and bounces to her feet, finishing her own cocktail. "My ability to do vertical splits and get both feet behind my head... those're just bonuses. What d'you want to drink next?"

"Hmm..." Emily glances over the array of cocktails, feeling a little more adventurous now. "Oh heck, let's go for the bright green one."

"Bright green it is!" Beck reaches over for Emily's glass, smiling, and pours out the drink, which smells slightly of fake apple and mostly of very strong alcohol. She almost loses her balance turning back to the bed - the biggest sign of how drunk she is right now - but manages to avoid spilling more than a few drops.

Plonking down on the bed next to Emily (very close, perhaps closer than strictly necessary) she presses the glass into Emily's hand. "Here. Let's drink this one to Mentors, and all the good work they do!"

She feels a little woozy as she smells just how strong she is, but it's too late to back out now. She shifts a little so that she's leaning back against the wall, deciding that she doesn't mind Beck sitting so close, not feeling threatened as she usually does with people coming into her personal space, and undecided as to whether it's due to the alcohol or the other woman or both. "To the Mentors. Congratulations on not dying and stuff." She's pretty sure that surviving her Arena was the most good out of the work she'd done.

Beck smiled, clinking her glass against Emily's and taking a long swig. It tastes as weird as it looks, violently sweet apple liquor followed by the sharp aftertaste of lime. After a second mouthful, Beck decides she likes it, and definitely needs to go back to that bar.

"Always wanted to say," she says after a moment, with a little frown. "Always wanted to say I think it's amazing, what you do. After everything you went through in the Games, I mean."

It's a little too sweet for Emily's taste, but she takes a long sip, resting the glass on her knee. She looks a little uncomfortable with Beck's praise, and her innate modesty makes her want to say something along the lines of 'it was nothing', but she can't bring herself to, knowing that in the end, it had been everything. Instead she just smiles weakly, stopping herself from going into a tirade about why no one should have to go through that, looking grateful for the compliment. "At least we only had to go through it once. I feel awful for our own Tributes, being thrown into the Arena again and again."

Beck is quiet for a moment, sighing and taking a long drink. "Yeah," she says quietly, after a little while. "It can't be easy on them. Especially not being so far from home." Her eyes flicked, just briefly, up to a couple of the common hiding spots for cameras. "I guess that's our job, huh? Make it easier for them to acclimatise."

"That's part of it, at least." For Emily, the rest was about making sure they kept their mouths shut and complied with the Capitol's demands. For Beck... "That and making them look good. Which I know you'll be amazing at."

Beck laughed at that, nodding. "I will," she said confidently, then, in the hushed not-quite-whisper of a drunk trying to be secretive, "Cinna's a hell of an act to follow, though. I mean, shit."

"Yeah, he's certainly changed the whole Capitol image of Twelve on the costumes for one Games alone." She'd felt extremely jealous watching Katniss and Peeta's outfits begin to smoulder. It was a far cry from her being dressed in pine needles. What she wouldn't have given for a stylist who'd truly understood her District as he had Twelve. "But he only had two Tributes to deal with - he couldn't have pulled that off with six or seven offworlders. That's where you'll shine instead."

"Uh-huh." Beck pulled a face, knocking back the rest of her drink and coughing violently. "'Cause I'm totally set up for costuming six or seven people I barely know. Not like half my design practice's'n dressing myself for shows or anything." Another face, sticking her tongue out (it had gone a little green from the drink) and screwing up her nose. "Oh, well. If I fuck up, we'll say it's avante garde. Just so long as it's not boring."

"I can already tell you're incapable of 'boring'." Between the way she was dressed and the cocktails she'd chosen, it was practically impossible to imagine Beck coming up with anything mundane.

Beck laughed, raising her empty glass a little in mock-salute. "That's what I like to hear. Keep the compliments coming, sweetheart." She winked.

Emily laughs a little too, then leans forward to refill Beck's glass. "What sort of outfits do you have in mind, anyway? I'm sure you must have designed something in the past that I'd have seen."

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