thecapitol | [open] Shame, such a shame...

Who| Ellis and open to anyone!
What| El is assmad at being killed so early and then furious at Nick the Dick's death
Where| D4 Suite, D7 Suite, and everywhere in between!
When| Starting Week 2
Warnings/Notes| El's use of the English language is a wonder to behold, mentions of death by fire and zombies

[District 4 Suite]
Dying on the first day was so not what Ellis had planned for this Arena, as he woke up and thrashed in his bed. Within that room is a tornado of anger as the mechanic wished he would have done things differently. He promised Nick and Rochelle that he'd be helpful, that he wouldn't be a burden....and now he was back here and useless to his friends and those he considered family. He was absolutely livid at himself.

So yes, he'll be sitting in the common area for his assigned District, fuming along with the reports and the bloody spectable. This was unfair! He wanted to get out there and keep the promise he made at the bar!

[District 7 Suite]

When news of Nick's death came along, the first thing Ellis did was rush up to District 7 with a weary but still optimistic grin on his face. Death wasn't permanent here, right? At least that's what the mechanic firmly believed. That sourpuss must be raising hell too, he thought as he walked along the hall and knocked on the door.

"Man oh man, yer lucky Coach ain't here to have seen yer fairy-ass, only me an' Ro! " he called out to the closed door, hoping for any sort of response, hell even an insult, but would get none. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Ellis leaned his ear to the door, and let out a small whisper, "Nick, are ya there? Talk to me...you're scarin' me. Are ya screwin' around? Because tha's wha' tha' diva Compson's for, cut it out!"

He sat against the door, not unlike a hopeful dog waiting for his friend, waiting for an answer from his suit-wearing survivor. He couldn't be dead for real, right? "Nick, please don't be gone...please..."

For once since the Green Flu, Ellis was alone again. And it terrified him more than any Tank, Witch, or monster the Capitol had in store for the Tributes.
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Emily can't keep herself from laughing at his surprise, though she glances around to make sure Jason really isn't in the suite before responding. "That doesn't mean he's some font of divine knowledge."

Her laughter is sweet, that was noted, and El joins her for a moment, "He certainly knows his way around a suit though." Well, at least the handlers did, and Ellis took a few sips of his coffee, "Have ya been here long? You look a bit spooked an' I know if yer a Victor, yer made o' steel."

Well good bark in her case.

"I've been back around six months now. Everything changed in the time I was gone." Not all of it for the better, though as much as everyone complains about Jason at least he does his job, unlike the last Escort she was teamed with. She smiles at his compliment, trying to hide her unease at it, knowing that Victors were not made of steel but of flesh and blood just like anyone else, and were more fragile than most too. It hadn't been steel or even good bark that had made her survive both in the Arena and up to now, but her own fear.

"Ever think about visitin' yer folks? Take a break from all this noise an' chaos? I'd do it in a heartbeat if I could see my mom an' my friends," Ellis sighed, "Guess they coul' see me if I had a way to broadcast th' Games there...tell 'em it's just a game an' tha' I'm safe."

As brutal as it was to have the Hunger Games be some sort of solace, he was trying to spin it as positively as he could.

"Okay, no, terrible idea. Mom don't need to see me killed."

She shakes her head sadly. "There's not much in the way of annual leave now, with the Neverending Quell. At least with the old Games it was only a few weeks a year I had to be away."

Ellis knows he shouldn't ask what he's asking, but his mind couldn't catch up with his mouth as the words left him, "How are these games compared to yers?" And he immediately regretted the question. Emily looked spooked, like a once-proud dog beaten but still trying to hold her head high in the midst of everything that can break her again.

"They're..." She trails off, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly as she focuses her thoughts back to her Arena. "In some ways they're much better. Far more of the new Tributes have a good chance of winning, the competition seems more evenly balanced than it just being the Career Districts with more of a hope of winning year after year. Then there's the fact that most of you come back to life afterwards. I wish that had been in place in my Arena." She says the last part rather bitterly, then remembers the very reason he's here at all is because his friend hadn't made it back, and looks over at him rather apologetically.

"I...I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am..." Ellis felt as if his presence, him having returned from the dead and her own left to rot in the Arena grounds. He looked at his mug and took one last sip. Nick seemed less likely to come back now, and all he and Rochelle could have were the memories. "I should leave ya be, don't need me muckin' up yer day." He knew that bringing that up was a terrible idea.

"No, it's fine, don't worry about it." She gives a shrug, a self deprecating smile. "I have to face it every day for work, it's not like I can escape it anyway. And you haven't done anything wrong."

"Really? Are ya sure? I..." He sighed, "I guess...and yer not exactly helped by Mr. Compson. But you, uh, you've got guts, an' lord I woulda-" Ellis stopped short of telling a Mentor that he's dropkick her coworker, "I woulda written a strongly worded letter to whoever's in charge o' this place an' have him take a sensibility course."

Let that mental image sink in.

Emily can't help but laugh a little at the image. "We did all have to go on training during the last Arena. Team building skills and things. I don't think he took much of it in."

That laugh comes back and it's practically sunshine in the room, as Ellis noted or thought of her. "Either tha' or he's got one helluva problematic personality. He won't like me here, I backtalked last time he gave a history lesson, an' he thinks we're all infected with some bullshit. I..."

This is something that made the survivor think, "I'm immune to my virus but we're not all disease-ridden beasts like he makes us all out to be. I know Nick was immune too."

"If it helps, most of the Capitol assumes all Districters are riddled with disease and carry fleas. My team made me bathe four times before they even let me get on the train after my reaping."

"That's just bein' mean for mean's sake. They probably have special decontamination rooms for offworlder contact then," Ellis argued, letting Emily see just how frustrated he could be at this...separation.

"We're all people right, an' just because we come from different places, don't mean we're worse than dogs!"

He did have to acknowledge that his world had a bug or two.

"Thanks for cheerin' me up, Miss Finch."

"Sure, but the Capitol likes to see itself as the pinnacle of civilisation." Which wasn't difficult for them, really, seeing as they kept the Districts uneducated and starving and having to kill one another in death matches to survive.

"It's no problem at all. You can always come and find me if you need anything at all."

As much as Ellis wanted to believe otherwise, Emily had a point: the Capitol was way more advanced than anything the young man could ever dream off. The fact that he was here at all was a testament to that, but this was not the time to dwell on such matters. He gave the Mentor one last smile before standing up to go.

"Likewise, Ms Finch...though I dunno how useful I can be given this place," he offered her as he would anyone who was kind to him.

"It's not a matter of being useful," she smiles over at him, rising from the chair and getting ready to head back to her room, back to work. "Sometimes just having someone around who's friendly can make all the difference."

[open] Shame, such a shame...

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