Jason Compson IV (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whatisay) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-07-03 07:01 pm
whatisay) wrote in thecapitol2015-07-03 07:01 pm
Entry tags:
Heartless Paradise Fools Me Every Time [Closed]
WHO| Jason and Emily
WHAT| Emily returns to the Suite after a traumatic incident and finds an unlikely ally.
WHERE| D7 Suite
WHEN| Last week of the Arena
WARNINGS| Lots of discussion of bidding and the aftermath.
This isn't the first time Jason's sat up late waiting for one of his Mentors to come back to the Suite, but every time he hopes it's the last. The bidding process tends to flush Jason's veins with that acidic, impotent fury, the kind that makes his jaw ache from grinding his teeth and his vision seem to constrict as if in anticipation of a headache.
But he isn't about to have a migraine, and so instead of scrambling to get work done, he's on the couch in the District Seven Suite at three in the morning, nursing a cup of tea and a cigarette in turn, not really watching the television so much as just training his eyes on a decent target. He went to Swann's to drop her off but then came back here, aware of the goings-on afoot. At some point he gets up and reads a magazine, and he tries to doze off on the couch for a while but he's too mad to even close his eyes for too long.
It isn't injustice, really, that makes Jason so angry. It's the sickness of it. It's well-off new money tramping around through the Training Center, thinking because they have more money and more power than anyone else that they can drag their disgusting miscegenistic rape fetishes into everyone else's business. It's that he and Emily and Cassian are all just trying to do their jobs, and then some pervert with a credit card slams in and upsets the dynamic and wreaks hell on his coworker just so they can get off with a purchased hillbilly. The bidding money doesn't even go to the District budget, but to the government, instead, the 'rightful owners' of the Mentors.
He's seen what they do to Peggy, the way they rip her up from the inside out and leave her with bruises and hollow eyes, and somehow the fact that Peggy's his friend, that Emily might be as well, adds a certain sourness to the concoction of hatred and indignity, as if friendship could never live in Jason except as a way to amplify anger, like anything else. He tells himself that he could protect any woman he called a friend and yet here it is, an ugly reminder of his own powerlessness.
Jason's always been a difficult Escort for bidders to work with, or rather, around. He actively discourages bidders if they mention it around him in their supposedly-subtle reconnoitering to find out prices, making it clear exactly what his opinion on Capitolites and Districters mingling intimately is. He's taken small, petty revenges on the bidders who broke the guidelines for renting out Peggy, who violated her without contraceptives or kept her after the allotted time, he's keyed cars and left angry voicemails and tripped people in the hallway in a futile attempt to let off enough steam for two people. It's an intrusion into his territory to meddle with the inner workings of the District Seven (formerly the District Ten) staff, and he doesn't take kindly to it.
But he's not about to flip over furniture or go write angry letters tonight. Now, he has his other job as an Escort, and that's making sure the Mentors are alright to work the next day. That's waiting for Emily with tea on the stove and a fresh set of pajamas and tissues if she needs them, all warm, soft things that stand in stark contrast to the way he's packed like a collection of razor blades over this all.
WHAT| Emily returns to the Suite after a traumatic incident and finds an unlikely ally.
WHERE| D7 Suite
WHEN| Last week of the Arena
WARNINGS| Lots of discussion of bidding and the aftermath.
This isn't the first time Jason's sat up late waiting for one of his Mentors to come back to the Suite, but every time he hopes it's the last. The bidding process tends to flush Jason's veins with that acidic, impotent fury, the kind that makes his jaw ache from grinding his teeth and his vision seem to constrict as if in anticipation of a headache.
But he isn't about to have a migraine, and so instead of scrambling to get work done, he's on the couch in the District Seven Suite at three in the morning, nursing a cup of tea and a cigarette in turn, not really watching the television so much as just training his eyes on a decent target. He went to Swann's to drop her off but then came back here, aware of the goings-on afoot. At some point he gets up and reads a magazine, and he tries to doze off on the couch for a while but he's too mad to even close his eyes for too long.
It isn't injustice, really, that makes Jason so angry. It's the sickness of it. It's well-off new money tramping around through the Training Center, thinking because they have more money and more power than anyone else that they can drag their disgusting miscegenistic rape fetishes into everyone else's business. It's that he and Emily and Cassian are all just trying to do their jobs, and then some pervert with a credit card slams in and upsets the dynamic and wreaks hell on his coworker just so they can get off with a purchased hillbilly. The bidding money doesn't even go to the District budget, but to the government, instead, the 'rightful owners' of the Mentors.
He's seen what they do to Peggy, the way they rip her up from the inside out and leave her with bruises and hollow eyes, and somehow the fact that Peggy's his friend, that Emily might be as well, adds a certain sourness to the concoction of hatred and indignity, as if friendship could never live in Jason except as a way to amplify anger, like anything else. He tells himself that he could protect any woman he called a friend and yet here it is, an ugly reminder of his own powerlessness.
Jason's always been a difficult Escort for bidders to work with, or rather, around. He actively discourages bidders if they mention it around him in their supposedly-subtle reconnoitering to find out prices, making it clear exactly what his opinion on Capitolites and Districters mingling intimately is. He's taken small, petty revenges on the bidders who broke the guidelines for renting out Peggy, who violated her without contraceptives or kept her after the allotted time, he's keyed cars and left angry voicemails and tripped people in the hallway in a futile attempt to let off enough steam for two people. It's an intrusion into his territory to meddle with the inner workings of the District Seven (formerly the District Ten) staff, and he doesn't take kindly to it.
But he's not about to flip over furniture or go write angry letters tonight. Now, he has his other job as an Escort, and that's making sure the Mentors are alright to work the next day. That's waiting for Emily with tea on the stove and a fresh set of pajamas and tissues if she needs them, all warm, soft things that stand in stark contrast to the way he's packed like a collection of razor blades over this all.
no subject
"I don't want you to get into trouble on my behalf. But thank you. That means a lot."
no subject
He kills his tea as well. "Alright. Get yourself to bed. I'll hold down the fort in case any of our charges start any trouble over night." He holds his hand out to help her up off the couch, then gestures down the hall. He doesn't wait to watch her go before going to refill his cup of tea.