There are few reasons why a Gamemaker should be seen outside of the control room during an Arena, but fortunately for Sigma, attending a charity event is a reasonably good one. As one of the most reviled men in the Capitol- courtesy of rebels and authority aspirants alike- Plutarch had urged him to work hard at maintaining a positive public image. A blind date had probably not been what he'd had in mind. Regardless of whomever had signed him up, Sigma knows it would be considered overwhelmingly tacky to no-show... he, not unlike his Tributes, is trapped here.
Overdressed for the warm, smoky environment, Sigma is sweating before he finds his table. Though attending places like these were a privilege of his status, he cannot help but feel, as he stalks through the restaurant, as though he is wearing a stranger's skin. His last hope for a reasonably good time is to be set up with a lovely lady... perhaps China Sorrows, for instance. But when Sigma's eyes fall on the other tables and he notices men paired with other men, he cannot stop himself from feeling a little discouraged. He had been quick to assume that the dates would be coupled by opposite sex. His mistake. He'd been raised in a different time, for certain.
This thought does not prevent him from growing confused when he arrives at the ominous Table 13. The Stylist Makara was, apparently, occupying his seat. For a man in such a detail-oriented job, Sigma thinks this lapse is out of character even for a ghost, and wonders how this has come to be. Following a brief, uncomfortable silence, Sigma opens his mouth to apologize for the misunderstanding... when reality sets in.
As discreetly as he can manage- an impossible thought, as all eyes were on him- the Gamemaker turns his head towards the other tables to double check their numbers. Table 12, Table 14... He had the right place, but surely, surely, this was a joke...
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Overdressed for the warm, smoky environment, Sigma is sweating before he finds his table. Though attending places like these were a privilege of his status, he cannot help but feel, as he stalks through the restaurant, as though he is wearing a stranger's skin. His last hope for a reasonably good time is to be set up with a lovely lady... perhaps China Sorrows, for instance. But when Sigma's eyes fall on the other tables and he notices men paired with other men, he cannot stop himself from feeling a little discouraged. He had been quick to assume that the dates would be coupled by opposite sex. His mistake. He'd been raised in a different time, for certain.
This thought does not prevent him from growing confused when he arrives at the ominous Table 13. The Stylist Makara was, apparently, occupying his seat. For a man in such a detail-oriented job, Sigma thinks this lapse is out of character even for a ghost, and wonders how this has come to be. Following a brief, uncomfortable silence, Sigma opens his mouth to apologize for the misunderstanding... when reality sets in.
As discreetly as he can manage- an impossible thought, as all eyes were on him- the Gamemaker turns his head towards the other tables to double check their numbers. Table 12, Table 14... He had the right place, but surely, surely, this was a joke...