I'll wait until you have to go. [open]

[reallynow]

Who| Jolie with prompts for Steve, Tony and Oceana and then an OPEN
What| Jolie catches sight of Steve during pre-arena prep, runs to tell Tony. Later she has news to break to Oceana and then she's doing something crazy like her job.
Where| Tribute Tower, The Lobby
When| Just prior to the Arena and then within the first week
Warnings| Probably talk of sex and whatnot because it's Jolie. Nothing major.

OPEN:
The guilt from not properly being around during the big send off is chewing at Jolie, so she's making it her mission to keep her eyes glued to the damn screens.

Today's bout of multitasking involves a Pina colada at the lobby bar and her sketchbook on her lap as she fiddles with a pencil that seems to change colours when she taps it against her book. She grunts every so often when she clearly uses the wrong colour, but it's just sketching.

Peeking closer reveals that she's very wistfully designing crowning outfits for her tributes. She's done this about a million times and it never gets old for her. Her smile is wide when her focus is on her book, but it becomes grim when she looks up at the screen.

"I'm gonna need a goddamn miracle." She murmurs, raising her drink to her lips for a long, long sip.

Steve:
For all her infatuation with Steve started as a crush, his post on the network and subsequent disappearance hurt more than a simple phase of affections should ever have felt. Even if she's moving on in other ways, there's still something about Steve that draws her in and keeps her interested. Her admiration and respect for his strength in personality and his kindness ended up out-weighing her interest in his looks, but there's something unattainable about him that kept the chase in her.

And then he was gone. And it seemed like even finding out where he was had to be a chase in itself. It's dangerous to pretend she's even remotely interested in his wellbeing, but her heart aches when someone drops the news about him being back. Maybe it isn't love, as such, but it's sincere care and concern. When she makes her way into the Nine prep room, it's under the pretense that she's helping Oceana.

What she sees is. Well. It's both better and worse than she expected. She exhales, faint amusement in her voice when she does.

"Did they leave you in the wash too long, baby?" She knows this is bad. Bad and traumatic and a nightmare to deal with, but humor is how she handles these things.

Tony:
The moment the tributes are sent up unto the Cornucopia, Jolie is making her way gradually toward his suite in Twelve. It's a bit of a journey, so she's probably not there prior to the live performance. She can't very well turn and run with the kind of urgency she'd like to use, not when the press is in full force and he'll to deal with. It's probably closer to midafternoon when she makes it there.

She knocks carefully on the door, but she doesn't dawdle around before inviting herself in. It is, perhaps, a more subdued entrance than he's been afforded before. That makes it all the more suspicious.

"Hey." She starts slow, pressing her lips together before she decides it's best to just get it out. "He's back, Tony. Steve is back."

Oceana:
Jolie, unfortunately, does keep a lot from Oceana. It's part of a mechanism for protecting the dumb kid, but sometimes Oceana is the only person Jolie ever wants to tell her secrets to.

She doesn't need a reason to pop by and visit. Hell, she doesn't even need a reason to drag her out onto the town if she needs to. She just can't shake the idea that she seems..suspicious. Oceana can probably read her like a book by now.

Still, they're walking the town with Jolie latched onto Oceana's arm. Her hip bumps against hers to guide her down a corner and give her a detour, smiling all the while.

Comments

[fuckingcool]

Oceana definitely needs a day out on the town with Jolie, that much is apparent by how little she complains when she's dragged out of her workroom in full geish. It's good, to just take a day for the two of them. To spend some sorely needed time together where one of them isn't a complete shit show.

That said, she's fully aware that something is up with Jolie, because she knows this bitch and she can tell when she's just fucking bursting to spill something. So when Jolie guides her not-so-subtly down a quieter side street, Oceana bumps her hip into her right back.

"Alright, bitch, spill."

[reallynow]

If anything, Jolie feels bad that this isn't just hanging out for the sake of hanging out anymore. It feels like a lot of things that used to be fun are now done for the sake of appearances, but it's a pretty small price to pay in the grand scheme of things.

Really, what she has to say isn't as terribly bad as it could be, but it ties into bigger fish. The whole Binding thing, people getting taken away and sent back and some things emerging prior to that all warrant a bit of discussion here.

Jolie doesn't respond until she's absolutely sure she's in the right place, glancing around carefully as she urges Oceana into the rundown looking abandoned stairwell behind them.

"Look. I, uh. Did a bad thing. Probably. Again. Then I did a good thing. I think? It's been a really big week." She looks momentarily hopeless, then she smiles. "Bitch is committed now, though."

[fuckingcool]

Oceana raises an eyebrow, managing to look at once impressed by and skeptical of Jolie's vagueness. "Wow," she drawls, "I'm astounded by your attention to detail." She might sound a little sour, but she can't really help it. Things haven't exactly been going fine and dandy on her end.

But that last bit piques her curiosity. "Committed, huh? They finally locking your crazy ass up?" She knows full well that's not what Jolie means, but she's content with playing dumb to draw out more details as needed.

[reallynow]

"Shut up." Jolie snaps quickly, swatting at Oceana's tit with lightning fast skill. Oceana is probably used to that, so Jolie moves on despite noting the sour tone. It warrants a squint, but she has a story to tell.

"I- no. Well. They should? I uh. Helped with the break in. They asked me to help and I did." But this story is secondary to her other one, and she's breezing past it quite pointedly. "Samuel and I are a thing now. A real thing." Oceana more than anyone probably knows that Jolie has been pining for about twenty years.

[fuckingcool]

Jolie's swatting at her tit doesn't even register a reaction; it's all foam and silicone, anyway, why bother? She's too busy zeroing in on what she's saying, and holy shit.

"Holy shit," she swears under her breath. "Are you fucking serious, Jolie, you--" Oceana is about to do something hilarious and scold Jolie for putting herself in danger like that, but she can't even get it out because the bitch pushes right through and gets to the real juicy shit. Oceana's jaw drops.

"Wait, what? For fucking real?" She cackles. "Finally. Did you get it in yet or what?"

[itscalledfashion]

Is it allowed for him to peek at other stylist's work? Is that legal? Will he get fired for plagarism??? But the temptation is too great, and Jolie is sitting right there, in actual, real life, so close that he could touch her, except that's an invasion of privacy. Is looking at that paper also an invasion of privacy?

He has to resist fidgeting and spinning around on the barstool because no, you have to play it totally cool, you are the coolest. He kind of wishes he could start playing some of his inspirational music right now, to help him, but that would probably be a terrible idea. So, instead, he straightens his back, and takes a sip of his drink. And then another sip.

And one more for the road.

"If anyone could pull it off," And he has to be careful here. Too much flattery might just irritate her. "It'd probably be you." And then he gave her a charming smile, which would have been nervous, if he wasn't so good at pretending that he felt fine when he was actually kind of nauseous.

[reallynow]

It's legal, he probably won't get fired, but whether it's allowed or not is another matter entirely. Jolie doesn't imagine most people who glance over her drawings have the skill or creativity to construct them into actual garments, but belittling people is kind of her shtick.

So, oddly enough, she's ignoring Cassian as he settles himself in beside her and works on whatever the hell he's working on. She's pretty captivated by her own genius in this moment, so the fact that he's sipping his drink in a weirdly determined way is only a distant thought in the back of her mind.

However, she does pull herself up when she realises she's being addressed. Her heavily made-up eyes set on Cassian with a look that makes it hard to tell if she's just surprised or if she's looking to tear him to shreds for having the audacity to speak to her. The fact that it was a compliment and not sarcasm is his saving grace here, so the only damage he receives comes in the form of an eye roll.

"What makes you think that?" She asks, trapping him into either further flattery or a real good come back.

[itscalledfashion]

He thinks for a moment on that, wishing he'd taken one more sip of his drink. He was treading carefully here, but Cassian was used to the minefield of Capitolite society, and he knew that if he danced carefully, he could stand a good chance of using this as a fantastic opportunity to know one of the movers and shakers within the Games circuit. Two main keys would important here--Jolie threw shade like she was in the parasol business, and if she did that, you had to roll with it--Carefully. And you had to be respectful, without kissing ass.

This assessed, he crossed his ankles, and drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the bar. "Well, in all of the time that you've been a stylist for District 8, you've managed to consistently put out tributes in fashionable clothing that's but thematically appropriate, and fashion forward. The hats are my favorite, personally, I think that they're an underutilized resource." He said it all in a matter-of-fact tone, like this was just some simple truths he was laying down.

"So it's hardly a far stretch to think that you'll be able to do miracles, when you've been pretty consistent in an excellent turn out so far." He concluded, and took a sip of his drink, because lord, did he need it. He really should've practiced speaking with people who were higher on the food chain than him before coming here. No, he had to stay confident! If he acted like some sniveling loser, that's exactly how he'd be treated.

[reallynow]

Meanwhile, Jolie remains completely unaware of the game Cassian is playing. Maybe it's partly because she's old enough and reputable enough that she doesn't need to play it often around here, maybe she's not used to younger people vesting that much work into their reputation. It's all about instant gratification these days, you get a good job and if you do a good enough job people will be talking about you.

A brow raises slowly when he babbles, but she lets the compliments wash over her without fighting it too much. By the end, she's smirking, but her answer is still curt. "They might be good hats, but they aren't miracle hats. I haven't been on the winning side for a long, long, loooong time, kid." Which is to say, flattery is nice but it feels patently untrue at this point. She's eager to talk about something else, so she studies him with faint confusion in her expression before speaking up.

"Who are you, anyway?" Probably one of the more devastating things one Capitolite can say to another. "Are you new around here or did someone accidentally let you in?"

[crabmunicator]

Karkat isn't one for visiting the bar, but when he passes by on his way in from some walk around the city, he happens to spot someone. Capitolites always come in their variety of standout colors and patterns, but this is one he recognizes; the specifics may be different than times before, but that's Jolie.

This is. Well. It's awkward. He's staring, he realizes, caught in thought because the last time he saw her was before that doomed mission. All the drag in the world can't save a guy from gunshot wounds, it turns out. He figures he should at least say something, even if he can't bring that up.

He orders a drink first. ("Just juice and before you ask, yes, I'm sure. I'm a teenage alien and I have no interest in learning about your alcohols.") If that doesn't call attention to him, then taking a seat beside her should probably do the job.

"So how's the stylist job treating you?" he asks, then takes a sip. There is a colorful little umbrella in his glass and a neon bendy straw.

[reallynow]

Of everyone who could possible happen by Jolie, Karkat is not who she's expecting. He's put himself on her radar both by being unashamedly annoying and at least a little endearing and because of the little rebellious bond they share now. That shit is lasting until, well, one of them dies. She tries not to think of the inevitability of that much, though.

She isn't immediately aware of him until she's spoken to, so she straightens up in mild surprise before she pulls her eyes away from the book and sets her stare on Karkat.

"Well, the pays not good but the work is hard." She says, like that's a plus. Her lips curl into a sly smile, calculating for a moment before speaking up. "This has not been your month, has it?"

[crabmunicator]

Funny, Jolie got on his radar the exact same way, and the bond is just as solid from his end. He doesn't given up on an ally easily, and that's even more true in a place like this.

"Sounds shitty." Plus for her, maybe, but not him. "Better than mine, though."

Which, really, ties right into the question. Karkat sighs, props his elbow on the bar, and leans into the cup of his palm. "Not really, no. At least nothing hurts now, but I sure as fuck did not plan to be out of the game that early."

To say nothing of the imprisonment, because it goes fine enough without it.

[reallynow]

"I dunno. Free accommodation? Free food? Shit, you barely even have to try for your publicity. Nowadays if a Stylist wants to get noticed, they've got to handcraft outfits for ten people and they've all got to be better than whatever someone else is churning out."

She doesn't sincerely believe she has it worse, and she can only bank on him knowing that. She has a lot of imperfections to cover where her reputation is concerned, so she's trying to come off less like the Nice One and more like the One Who Happens to Like Complaining. Which, incidentally, she does.

"I doubt anyone plans for it. The ones that do don't last long, y'know? Usually because they want all the fame and the luxury without putting in the hours for it. People get bored real fast." She doesn't realise she's being the opposite of comforting in that sense, but she reaches out to pat his back lightly. It's almost more like she's swatting dust off him rather than being affectionate. That isn't a cover for anything, she just does that.

[arrogantalloy]

When Jolie knocks and comes on in, Tony's drawing. Nothing interesting to him and nothing at all artistic, just simple engine layouts and designs. He's focusing on them hard in an attempt to miss the cornucopia's blood bath.

He knows that as a Mentor it's now his job to help those in the arena, but he also knows that no help ever comes in those first few days. So to him the best way he can deal with it is to distract himself entirely, or get blind drunk. To be honest he's gotten bored of being drunk here. Whatever appeal it ever had on him has worn off since the last arena and losing Steve.

So when she speaks Tony doesn't realizes the quietness or the words, still trying to hard to focus on the engine he's drawing. But the words soon reach him, and he gives a humourless huff.

"If this is some weird way to get me out of here. It's going to take more than some club twink that looks the same."

Admittedly, some of his pride is coming into play here. He's been losing far too much sleep trying to use B.O.B to find Steve, so he refuses to believe that Jolie is the one to find him. That and he feels like it would be too easy that way. Which considering how hard everything else has been since he got here, he finds a little hard to believe.

[reallynow]

There's a momentary, curious flicker in Jolie when she catches Tony drawing, but eventually it's overrun by the more important issue that she's here to discuss.

She shouldn't be surprised that he doesn't believe her from the get go, but she's both ruffled that he thinks she'd joke about this and that she wouldn't know Steve from a mile away. Although, admittedly...

"No, see. It's funny, because that's basically what's happening." She explains, holding up her hands as if she expects to keep him frozen within the realm of her influence if she does that. "Look, I'm not shitting you Tony. I have better things to do and funnier things to lie about."

She steps back, hands lowered only so she can source out the monitor TV in his room and turn it on. It's probably a traumatic way of doing it, but she's studying the faces as they flash across the screen and searching for that one particular one.

[arrogantalloy]

He huffs dismissively at her insisting she's actually found him. Admittedly he knows that if she was going to make shit up she'd be at least a little more creative. But he's tired and refusing to sleep so it's making him less willing to take in what she has to say.

He turns back to his drawing as she starts looking around the room, content to ignore her. Until he hears the TV turn on and hears exactly what she's turned it to. It causes him to tense, his mind immediately centering on everything that happened in the last arena, he can feel his chest getting tight.

"Turn it off." He says quickly, staring hard at the engine in front of him, licking his dry lips hoping she'll listen.

[reallynow]

Jolie is getting increasingly frustrated with his dismissal. She's like a dog desperately trying to point out the robber on the lawn and Tony is just bapping her with the newspaper, assuming it's a squirrel. She can see he's tired, she doesn't hold that against him, but he needs to face the reality of this eventually. She'd prefer it if she were there while it happened, at least, she just has no idea he's verging on a panic attack. She's walked hundreds of Tributes through similar states, most of them children and most of them dead now.

She's never been particularly good at being anything but harsh, but she cares. She really cares about making sure he doesn't go on pretending that she's full of shit.

"Just look, would you?" She gestures wildly at the TV, ignoring the quick quality of his words so she can search for Steve- and shit! "There! There- shit. You missed him. You're making this really hard." She whines, that entitled Capitolite edge returning to her voice.

[aboveangrybees]

((CW: mild mentions of torture & medical experimentation. nothing explicit or detailed))

Today the routine had changed. They hadn't come to grab him at the usual time, hadn't dragged him into a room and strapped him to a table or chair or whatever platform they were using to set him up on that day. No, today was different. They had dragged him out at an earlier time, still unkind in their treatment, tossing him around from place to place until he came to be settled in a secluded section of Nine's prep room, away from the eyes of everyone but his stylist and the guards.

Or so he thought. Now outfitted in layers of Oceana's improvised costume, Steve finds himself alone, trembling as his eyes dart around, expecting something terrible to happen. He's unsure if this is for an arena or another battery of tests and torture to wring him through, to see how breakable he is now that he's no longer the dirty rebel soldier he used to be. But he doesn't expect Jolie to slide into the room with the same grace she always has.

He eyes her like he expects the worst of her, yet he doesn't feel as on edge with her as the guards or scientists. Just like Oceana, she's here to do a job, one that more likely involves makeup than needles.

"No one told them I'm hang dry only," his voice cracks and peels against his throat, but there's a broken mirth there, somewhere behind the fear.

[reallynow]

Any of that grace Jolie has is starting to wane as she takes in the situation and starts to circle Steve curiously. The way she walks is a little like a cat studying a statue they don't remember seeing before, mildly offended and very confused, all tense shoulders and wide eyes. She needs to get her shit together and she knows it, so she stops in front of him and squares her posture.

"It really is you." Her voice is low, still in a sick kind of awe. She feels a little like she's being fooled, but there's no way to prove that. "I didn't think you were coming back." And now she sounds cold, ambivalent to his suffering because sincerity would be a death threat to both of them.

"You fucked up." She says finally, expression as stern as she can make it. She's taking in his outfit now, reaching out to fuss with fabric that isn't hanging evenly. It won't matter much when he's out there, but it's something to focus on.

[aboveangrybees]

He knows Jolie, he figures he has a good idea what she's doing, but where before he would play along and not take it personal, now it feels like a slap to the face, her awe and staring reminding him of the scientist. Of how they would watch him change as the serum was slowly removed from him, how they poked and prodded even as he screamed in pain as his body regressed. How they were fascinated like he was something to be pulled apart rather than a living person.

His eyes train themselves on the floor, flinching back a little when she reaches out to deal with his clothes, but he doesn't stop her, knowing he can't. Her coldness makes him unable to trust what her actions will be next, if she'll sell him out more to save her own face. He knows he'd let her do it too.

And even knowing where her alliances actually lie doesn't change that she's a Capitolite, that he would get beaten just for the wrong comment right now. They have no patience for a dirty rebel, for a traitor who's already given them a months worth of grief, Steve knows that. Knows what talking back does because he didn't learn his lesson fast enough the first three weeks.

Still a lesson hard learned when a smart remark almost crosses his tongue but he bites it in time, afraid of the consequences. Knowing they won't hesitate to just blow him up for one more transgression. He can't risk that.

[reallynow]

There's a lot beyond either of their control when it comes to the Capitol, to the system and to how it influences a person's innate wariness and paranoia. Even when you understand, even when everything seems logical, things that shouldn't hurt really get under your skin. Jolie knows the state Steve ought to be in. She's seen her friends Avoxed, she's seen them stripped of everything but fear. She should be accustomed to this kind of reaction, not ashamed of how well her cover works.

There's very little she can do to right it now. Things are going as they should be, but she wishes she could do more to comfort him. She tries to ignore it, focusing on adjusting his outfit as deftly as she can without lingering too long and inflicting herself on him.

She's weaker than she wants to be. Probably at the fault of both of them. She can't help tapping her fingers gently under his chin so she can try to make him look at her.

"You're going to try, right? Oceana needs a win. Your District needs a win. You need a win." It's his best shot at escaping more torture, but as idle conversation it could be seen as her urging him to win to redeem his reputation. "Keep your chin up, alright? The ground won't help you."

[theyoungperish]

The thing is, Chuck needs more than a single drink to get through this Arena. District Four ain't what it used to be, built up of princesses and pacifists now instead of the Careers of old. It's a crying shame, because it means his chance of winning are down to luck and a hope of alliances.

Nothing like Chuck's own Game, nothing like Derek's, either.

Mentorship is different now, with so many Tributes, the same amount of Sponsors, and a whole lot of second chances when the losers wake up again. So yeah, okay, he's gonna find his way to a "calmer" bar after schmoozing his way into some fuckin' money and sponsorship for the idiots he's representing. But that means he needs a damn drink, and probably some space before he bites someone's head off. Instead, he gets a doodling Stylist, and well, that's a bomb waiting to go off. Still.

"You and half the damn place."

[reallynow]

It takes a solid amount of seconds for Jolie to notice Chuck, but once he's in her peripheral vision it's pretty hard not to. Say what you will about the guy, he has... presence. We'll say presence. Jolie hadn't precisely been rooting for him in his Arena, but his moxie made him something of a favourite.

"Times are changin', huh?" She leans away from her sketchbook so she can smirk over at him. "Two wins in a row for Twelve? Right after a win for Ten? Someone is getting miracles around here." And she can't help sounding a little amused, if only for old District rivalry. She very vividly remembers when a District above the number Four was a miracle, given that Eight rarely saw that kind of luck.

[theyoungperish]

He's an asshole, but Chuck's made himself pretty unforgettable in his own way. The thing is, in his own Arena he'd been the underdog, and he'd come out of it snarling and swinging, chemical burns on his skin and blood staining him red. He'd never forgotten what he'd done, what he survived, and it's made him harsher. But not by much, and that's probably due to Derek.

Here, now, he lifts his glass and takes a drink, crooked smirk at his mouth. Shrugs, because shit it's true and everyone knows it. These Games? Hell, they're bewilderingly different.

"Or somethin'." He agrees, shaking his head. Twelve and Ten, who would have thought? "Next thing we know it'll be Six."

[reallynow]

The interesting thing about working in the Tower is that you spend literally every day surrounded by people who've been fawned over and revered for so long and it slowly becomes no big deal. Yep. Just having a casual conversation with the guy your younger sister held a candle for over so many months.

The best part, of course, is that he's equally salty about the shit that goes on around here. Jolie truly appreciates anyone who sees the bullshit for what it is, so his response warrants a smirk.

"Six has Molotov. I'm surprised they haven't won by now." She rolls her eyes. "The assholes killed off my highest scoring guy. No reason! He was doing great, he had gigs and then poof! Oops, forgot to return him." She seems disgusted, though outwardly it seems more because she just wants to win. "And they want us to believe they don't play favourites."