thecapitol | Oh, this is the night and the heavens are right on this lovely Bella Notte

Oh, this is the night and the heavens are right on this lovely Bella Notte

Who| Everyone who signed up for blind dating!
What| An evening of romance, or disaster, take your pick.
Where| The Swift Cut restaurant
When| 16th June
Warnings/Notes| The course of true love never did run smooth. Remember that if your character was not rolled in arena but you signed up for them to be here, you will need to mark their death on fatality reporting.

The atmosphere at the Swift Cut this evening is bustling. It's clear from the moment one enters the restaurant that they have pulled all the stops out for this televised extravaganza.

Every fire is lit and the air is filled with the scent of the roasting meat on spits over the flames; boar, beef, pork, venison and more. Pots bubble with the smell of hot stew, vegetables are being roasted in ovens and from giant casks around the room beer is being drawn. The staff are in full 'barbarian' getup, consisting of skimpy furs on both the male and the female servers but luckily for you they don't seem to expect a similar dress code from their guests.

Tribute's stylists may have had other ideas, of course.

The giant room has been clearly divided. Tribute's will find themselves directed to one side while trueborn citizens of Panem and petitioned out individuals are brought to the other. It is left up to them to find their table with the number they will be handed upon entering the restaurant. Whether they are the first to arrive at their table is a matter of chance but they can be sure that a cameraman will always be there to capture the moment of realisation on both participants faces when they realise who their date is.

Once everyone is seated the music will begin the play. Minstrels strum lutes and harps, their voices filling the air softly with traditional medieval ballads. There is a space set aside for dancing if anyone is in the mood.

Throughout the evening, and certainly at the end, Tribute's and Capitolites will find themselves sporadically approached by the show host to be asked questions about how they feel the evening is going. It's up to them how honestly they answer, though they should remember the camera's are always watching.

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He’s not sure he’d call it a positive attitude so much as the honest truth but he lets the comment go unchallenged, his frown softening.

“It hasn’t started, actually.” A laugh bubbles up despite himself, a small, breathy thing, and he passes a hand through his hair, smoothing it over his neck. “S’jus’ nice to get some air first.” And space. He glances her way after a moment, taking in her teasing little smile. “Guess I could ask you the same thing.”

She smiles back at him, smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle in her dress.

"I thought I'd give Quintus a break for a moment." The way she comfortably relaxes her stance near him suggests she's not allowing Luke the same charity.

"Are you nervous for yours?"

Quintus – the name clicks before long. The Peacekeeper and Security Coordinator who had broadcasted a litany of rules and regulations for tributes and staff alike. If Luke has an opinion of him – other than that he’s someone to be careful around – it doesn’t show, his thoughtful frown unchanging.

“Don’ have too much to feel nervous about. Either it works or it doesn’t.” A soft shrug. “...Ain’t a matter a’ life or death.” He adds wryly, too distracted by the jarring bits and pieces of arena-memories his mind spits out at him to be much aware of the dull clench of his gut at the thought of meeting someone new. Well, meeting someone for the purpose of judging compatibility - and having fun - rather than reliability in survival situations. After so long, dating feels like goddamn novel concept.

She laughs. "I suppose not. I know many who would envy your confidence, though."

The remark invites the obvious quip that those people should spend some time in the Arena to learn what real fear is, or something like that. China doubts that anyone would be foolish enough to say that out loud, but she leaves an opening for a response of any sort for now--any reaction can be telling.

He wouldn't call it confidence so much as approaching things practically, but he gets the feeling she's already forming an idea of him - her take on him, at least. There's little about his situation to envy, of course, but he bites it back a comment. The walls have ears.

"...Well, ain't so sure I'd call it that."

His days of easy, comfortable exchanges with strangers and taking the hand of someone he had only just met at a party and jumping headlong into something fun were long behind him. But despite the pressures of the world he's known hammering and tempering him into a somewhat different man, for the better and for the worse, he doesn't think he'd ever let nervousness get in the way of chasing daydreams and asking someone out. If he felt the drive in the first place.

"M'probably gettin' a li'l too old for butterflies anyway."

Given the Capitolite quest for eternal youth, China would estimate Luke as being older than he really is. Who would let themself look their actual age?

"I imagine so. And I suppose you're quite experienced already? The novelty of anxious puppy love can get old quickly."

She keeps her smile in that ambiguous place between understanding and teasing.

Oh, he's had plenty of experience having his heart run through a meat grinder by a great many girlfriends - but it's a detail the scheming minds behind Celebrus would have to do without. Not that it'd be any skin off their noses, he's sure. They'd generate more than enough content for the hungry Capitolite masses by twisting words and taking situations out of context.

"Novelties tend to work like that," He says with a half-hearted chuckle, tiredness beyond his years creeping into his eyes and leeching the light out of them. "Think it'd be kind a' nice, sometimes, to remember what that felt like."

It has been a long time since he felt human. Since he lived. Some things can’t be described – only felt and understood that way.

The skyline twinkles and shines like strings of baubles and he looks out for a long time.

"...I don' know."

She gives a small nod of agreement. Emotional novelties, she agrees.

She tilts her head, letting some of her hair fall over her shoulder. "You don't know what? How experienced you are? How many partners you've had"

It's a weak quip, but that's her intention. There's little use in letting people know your intelligence right off the bat and China doesn't feel the need to indulge in wit.

He lets out a slow, quiet sigh, his shoulders slumping some under the weight of responsibility and helplessness. Truthfully he’s lost track of the number of partners he has had over the years - but that’s beside the point.

“…Doesn't matter.” He says, in a low, hushed tone nearly tired enough to be mistaken for defeat. He scrubs at his face. Even his skin feels tired.

“Guess m’jus’ sayin’ the first thing that pops into my mind.”

She floats her fingers just over his shoulder in a fleeting gesture of comfort. "Honesty is the best policy, isn't that what they've said?"

She honestly doesn't believe a word of that. But it's useful to make people think she doesn't mind showing truth.

Another teasing smile. "Thoughts on that?"

She doesn't believe him.

He doesn't think she'd have asked otherwise. And as unseen fingers coyly ghost his shoulder in a way he's still unused to, his skin prickling under his shirt, he can't help but be slightly on edge. It doesn't feel like a casual, harmless question like the ones that came before it either, not in the company of cameras. At worst, she might be trying to back him into a corner and watch him squirm -- and every restless thought that crops up only feeds that ever-present wariness he has towards strangers.

"S'one a' those things that sounds great in theory..." He meets her gaze, his expression neutral for the moment as the ski lodge flashes through his memory and he remembers strugglingly making the choice to bite back the truth from Walter and assume a pragmatic position out of fear for Nick's life. But then he tilts his head in a sort of rueful half-shrug, cracking a grin. It's a no less careful play, meant mostly to gauge her reaction. "...But you tell your mom her casserole looks like somethin’ run over an' she'll tan your hide good, don' matter how old you are.”

She watches him with her same sweet smile, patient while he reflects. Her hand flutters above her mouth as she tosses her head back slightly.

"Oh my. Should I be thankful my mother never cooked, then?"

Busy government workers didn't bother with such things, especially when there were Avoxes available.

Half-expecting her to attempt tangling him up in another politely-worded answer, he's mildly surprised when the tone between them remains light. Though that knot dully aching in his gut is nowhere close to dissolving.

"Maybe." A bob of his shoulders. "Well..." He jerks his thumb back towards the doors of the restaurant, "...Least the food in there looks better. Probably."

Obligingly, she looks to the restaurant. "It does."

She turns back to him. "If you're eager to return to it, by all means, go ahead. I believe we're supposed to keep our distracting dalliances short, anyway."

“Well, I am a li’l hungry.” After being revived and forced back into a body that is all angles and edges, lean and hungry, this isn’t a lie. “‘sides, our company might get the wrong idea if we show up late.”

She has someone waiting on her, too. Not that she seems all too concerned.

"So true." Her voice is gentle and almost cautious as she continues, "I'd hate to bring offense to anyone."

"Enjoy the rest of your date, dear. And I believe we will be seeing each other around."

A brief dip into a curtsy.

He doesn't doubt that. The cage of the Capitol has grown smaller with familiarity, and any place seems to shrink that much more when you're not particularly keen on having certain company. If he was ever a blip on her radar before, he's more of one now, he's sure, and he can't say for sure if this is something he needs to worry about.

Still, he offers her a polite farewell just mama taught him how, having the sense to keep his thoughts to himself. He nods, hitching his thumb into his jeans, looking to follow her inside. "Evenin', ma'am."

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Oh, this is the night and the heavens are right on this lovely Bella Notte

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