[Closed]

[conifer]

Who| Quintus and Emily
What| Quintus is sick and Emily insists on taking care of him
Where| Quintus' apartment
When| Backdated to the day of Quintus' broadcast
Warnings/Notes| None inherent


At 6pm Emily's waiting in the central commons of the Training Centre, a flask full of chicken soup under one arm. She's irritated at Quintus for insisting on continuing to work when he was clearly under the weather, and even more so for his paranoia over giving out his address. She imagined him leading her through all sorts of back alleys and taking the long way round so she'd have no idea how to get back there, and she's not sure she has the patience to continue humouring him. Her own paranoia has begun to set in too now, knowing that they'll surely be spotted leaving together. Gossip about her supposed love life was rampant enough without people thinking she was hooking up with a Peacekeeper, too.

She waves him over, looking him up and down, none too pleased. "You look just as bad as you sounded. You should be tucked up in bed, not sweating over your desk."

Comments

[lex_paciferat]

"Aren't you just full of flattery today," he quips, his eyes flickering around the room, taking stock of whatever reporters might be lingering. He'd changed out of uniform in his office, donning a dull, slightly wrinkled gray suit in an effort to be less conspicuous. It's a ploy he's used before on evenings he hasn't wanted to be bothered--he recognizes a few familiar faces, but none seem to notice him now that he's in something other than bright white.

He doesn't waste time before leading Emily to the door, then out onto the street. Rather than heading to the lot where some of the other employees keep their cars, he takes her down to a train stop, walking up the ramp to the platform. A small crowd is already there--businesspeople talking on phones, women festooned with flowers and sequins out for a night on the town. It's a large enough group that when the train arrives, he and Emily fail to get a seat, crammed together in a haze of perfume and chatter.

Fortunately, the ride is brief, his hand finding her arm to help her step off as they reach his stop. It's still bright out, skyscrapers' glittering lights competing with the gold glow of the sun, and contrary to her suspicions he doesn't take her on some winding route, walking two blocks down to one of the looming buildings. The lobby is well-decorated, plush chairs and glass-topped tables resting beneath a spiral-shaped chandelier, soft music floating from somewhere near the ceiling. He makes his way to the elevators, leaning over a bit to scan his iris, and a swift ride takes them to a corridor a few floors up.

At the door to one of the apartments he stops, withdrawing and unfolding something from his pocket--a portable receiver, meant for detecting surveillance devices. He almost manages to look apologetic.

"Just humor me for a second."

[conifer]

She draws into herself on the train as she always does in large crowds, trying to avoid eye contact with the multitude of strangers and focusing on the glint of the sky through the windows as they pass between skyscrapers, taking deep breaths and counting down the station stops, although not knowing where they're supposed to get off makes her feel even more anxious.

With the exception of Jason's house, which really isn't a good example in its ruinous dilapidation, this is the first private residence in the Capitol she's visited. She shouldn't be surprised at the opulence in the lobby but her eyes widen nonetheless, thinking how basic even her family's residence in the Victor's Village is in comparison, feeling her blood boil as the injustice of the inequality rears its head once again.

When Quintus takes out the portable receiver, she feels her last thread of patience snap. "Why don't you just go the whole way and insist on a strip search while you're at it?"

[lex_paciferat]

"Hey now, I never said this was that kind of get-together." He clicks the receiver on and steps around her, waving it over her clothes and lifting her arms to check beneath them. She's clean, of course, and he'd never expect her to try to personally sneak something in, but it's one of those rituals that gives him peace of mind.

He doesn't have to bend to unlock this door since the iris scanner is right at the height of his head. It slides open, and he takes Emily's arm again--a necessary step, because as soon as they've cleared the sensor it snaps shut to prevent anyone from following them inside. He shrugs off his jacket, hanging it up, and crosses over to a mirrored wall behind his couch, tapping it with a finger. The mirrors come alight with electronic menus, and he cycles through different settings, switching on the overhead lights and the air conditioning and toning down the opacity of the windows like a vanishing fog.

"Kitchen's to your right, bathroom's over here through the bedroom," he says as he switches the display off, then picks up the remote to the stereo. "Any kind of music you particularly like?"

[conifer]

"Happy now?" She can't hide the slight sharpness to her voice, feeling insulted that he's going through all this when she's given up her evening to look after him when he's sick.

She shrugs at his question, it's not really something she spends a lot of time thinking about. "I don't really listen to much. Something that's not too loud, I guess."

[lex_paciferat]

"Alright." He turns the volume down and switches stations a few times, passing bubbly pop music and something resembling rap before settling on some mellow keyboard music. That accomplished, he steps into the kitchen, opening a drawer filled with silverware.

"Did you bring enough soup for yourself, too?"

[conifer]

She raises the tupperware container to eye level, trying to gauge the amount. "There should be enough. Depending on how hungry you are, that is."

[lex_paciferat]

"Not that hungry, so I think we'll be fine." He fetches two spoons, bowls and a ladle, covering a cough with his sleeve as he sets them on the table. "I took some more meds half an hour ago but I don't think they've done anything for my appetite."

[conifer]

She busies herself reheating the soup, taking some fresh herb cuttings from a plastic wallet in her bag to stir in. "Are you sure you don't have an Avox? This place is immaculate."

[lex_paciferat]

"I spent a lot of time living in barracks where they used cleaning chores to teach discipline. And of course, practically speaking, when you've got fifty guys in close quarters you have to get on that sort of thing quick." He leans against the edge of the counter, watching her. "I do have three of those little robots that can vacuum and scrub floors. They tend to get stuck in corners, though."

[conifer]

She far prefers the idea of robot cleaners to Avoces. "That sounds cute. Do they have names?"

[lex_paciferat]

He chuckles. "I didn't give them names. Hell, I was that kid that would name my pets after people I knew. I've never been all that creative."

[conifer]

"It could be worse. Most of the people back home are named after trees, you'd think we have enough of those."

[lex_paciferat]

"You're right; I do remember a lot in Seven having tree names. In Two it's just a bunch of Capitol knockoffs, most of which you really can't come up with a half-decent short form for. I've gotten everything from 'Q' to 'Quint' or 'Quinny' and to me they all sound like weird diseases."

[conifer]

"'Quint' sounds quite neat, actually." The sort of name an explorer or investigator might have in a story. "I guess I should be glad my parents went with something old fashioned. My younger brothers got stuck with the more forest-y names."

[lex_paciferat]

"Yeah? What are their names?"

[conifer]

"Ash and Garth." Homesickness stabs through her. "My older brother is Matthew, though. We got the lucky break."

[lex_paciferat]

"Sounds like it. How many people are in your family?"

[conifer]

"Just us four and my parents. There was my grandmother too - my mother's mother, that is, but she died when I was little. We have lots of cousins but they're further east, we only saw them in lumber season."

[lex_paciferat]

"Must be pretty chaotic in your house." It's rather foreign from his experience, too--he and Lurio had grown up with plenty of their own space, and he inwardly cringes to imagine dealing with the constant intrusion of siblings as a child.

[conifer]

"Oh no, it was wonderful." She dishes out soup into the bowls. "They're all up in the Victor's Village now anyway, but where we lived when I was a kid..." Quintus can probably imagine it, having spent time in Seven, the little one and two room cabins that held entire families within. "We were mostly outside all the time anyway, just because of the sort of work we had to do. But in the evenings, and in the winter months too when it was too cold to be out for long, we always looked forward to those. Grandma Nerea would tell stories and my father would sing songs, we'd all do impressions of people in town to guess. Those are probably the best memories I have."

[lex_paciferat]

"Hmm." He blows on a spoonful of soup before trying a sip. "Do you get to correspond much with them while you're here? If you can't get messages through, I think I know a few guys that're still stationed in Seven."

[conifer]

"That's kind of you to offer." She's struck by just how kind an offer it is really, thinking there must be some regulation or other he'd break there. "But I'm not sure they really want to talk to me at the moment. They would all have seen my speech at the Youth Programme."

[lex_paciferat]

"I didn't think there was anything wrong with your speech. It wasn't as though you were calling them cannon fodder or junkies."

[conifer]

"I wouldn't be surprised if it created some ill feeling anyway. Nowhere near enough for them to act on it--" she adds this quickly, the riots and their aftermath resurging unwanted in her memory "--but there will be a lot of people in Seven who'll think I've sold out."

[lex_paciferat]

He shakes his head. "That isn't--it's not--"

Cutting himself off, he takes another sip of soup as he tries to formulate his words.

"When it comes down to it it's important to do the practical thing. The thing that's going to solve the most problems and create the fewest. And sometimes you don't have a lot of control over the options you get, sometimes they're not exactly what you might want, but you pick the best you've got and that's the best you can do."