thecapitol | Interviews! [closed]

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Interviews! [closed]

WHO| Gary Epps and his interviewers (Albert Wesker, China Sorrows, Sigma Klim, and Jane Shepard)
WHAT| Gary petitions for citizenship, is interviewed by people who may or may not have the best opinion of him for the process. This should be fun!
WHEN| The weekend before the Arena 14 Crowning
WHERE| About!
WARNINGS| Discussion of various deathgames things, maybe

It figures, Gary realizes, that there would be more hoops to jump through after he finally got up the nerve to fill out those forms for naturalization. Never mind that the forms themselves were nigh painless and this next step is hardly extensive enough to constitute a significant 'hoop,' it's still bureaucracy, that nebulous concept that Gary is vaguely aware of and wants nothing to do with. Or something like that. There are signatures and meetings involved, it makes him anxious.

To that end, Gary tries to make this whole interviewing process as natural for him as possible. Because he really shouldn't be worried, should he? He's done plenty of interviews before, stood in front of hundreds of people flocked to his spontaneous roadside concerts, entertained incoherently excited fangirls while he gave autographs...selling to four schmucks how great he is really should not be an issue for him. This is what he keeps telling himself. He doesn't need to dress up or prepare; Gary sets out on the weekend after he gets his interview notice for a casual walk around the Capitol. Not a mission. A walk. Or a jog, maybe, it really depends on his mood. He takes the stairs from the District 11 suites and lingers around the main Training Center, pokes his head into many of the common Tribute haunts around the downtown area, makes a casual pass at Sigma's residence. If he runs into someone on his list, then that's when they'll have the interview. No questions. Immediately Gary flags them down with a wave (or introduces himself with a wave, if he's forced to knock on some doors) and a pleasant, chipper greeting.

"Hey! I need to talk to you for a thing?"

They...they got memos too, right? Probably. Gary's just not going to worry about that.

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China's easy to find, as she's spending the day in the District 11 Suite instead of her library. Sitting in the common area, she closes her book at Gary's greeting to give him her full attention.

Smiling, as always, she asks dryly, "Not anything important, I hope?"

She has something of a guess about what it is and probably shouldn't be making light of an important situation. But oh well.

[ooc: I figured it would make the most sense for them to run into each other here, but please tell me if this doesn't work!]

Shepard was fairly predictable in her routine, as a rule. It was a habit she'd set down a long time ago, when the security blanket involved in being told where to go and what to do hadn't yet lost its appeal. Gary likely flags her down in the lobby, on her way in or out.

Oh yeah, she remembers this kid.

"If you're gonna hit on me again, I'll stop you right there; no thanks."

Concerning Tributes, there were few things kept secret from a Gamemaker - the fact that Gary had intended to seek him out was apparently one such thing. Sigma had been a single step into his routine stroll when he found Gary outside the gates of the luxury condominium, and his surprise is plain on his face. His residence was, by design, quite a ways a way from the Tribute tower. He could admire Gary's resolution, but it would have been simpler for the both of them to have arranged to meet in the district quarters... This was not to mention that this made the young man the first person to actively seek him out since he became a Gamemaker - and it was because he needed something from him. That fact settles like a stone in his stomach, but he supposes this, too, is a part of his job.

He wants to ask how Gary got his address, if he was provided with it as a part of his petition. That must, at least, indicate that they would not suspect Gary of concealing a weapon. Deciding he can trust him long enough to hold the interview, Sigma clears his throat and nods. "Ah. This must be for the petition interview, is it not? I was in your shoes not too long ago." He gestures uncomfortably to the gate that lead to his building. "Well... will you join me inside, Mr. Epps?"

As he had been told to expect this, Wesker's door stood uncharacteristically open when Gary arrived. He'd have preferred a firm schedule, but he knew how to pick his battles, and this one wasn't worth it.

Seated in his dragon throne, he worked at his desk. Gesturing with his free hand, he pointed to a chair in front of him, and said, "Come in."

He didn't even look up.

Edited 2015-07-23 22:57 (UTC)

[[ooc: nope, this is fine!]]

For once, Gary meets China in the District Eleven common area fully dressed instead of with the typical half-assed just-out-of-bed look. As casual as he would like to make these meetings, he can't deny the excited anticipation that comes from interviewing. Mostly in that he hasn't properly been interviewed before--not for a job or anything. It had all been temporary local gigs back home, things a friend-of-a-friend told him to help out with for a little extra cash and some snacks when they were done. This is a competition. He's willing to get up early enough to be decent for a competition.

Not that this changes how he interacts with China at all, because that would be entirely too much work and no fun whatsoever. "Nah," Gary chides, waving a dismissive hand as he trots into the kitchen (interview or otherwise, the boy still has to eat). "Just leaving forever is all. No big deal. You got the memo?"

Gary's instinctive response is to sputter with laughter, because this is preferable to being embarrassed or afraid or really any other options he can come up with. Of course they would set him up with one of the most intimidating Tributes he's ever met half-drunk at a bar and tried to shamelessly flirt with. Granted, this pool of people is pretty small, Shepard doesn't have a lot of competition. This does not stop her from being objectively terrifying.

But in the way, starting out by running face-first into that wall of awkward is reassuring for him. She isn't trying to dance around the issue and intimidate him like Leo did, and she didn't open by punching him in the face, so that's also a big plus. Really, the snark is the best of all possible outcomes Gary can think of. He can handle snark. He's on good footing here. For the moment.

"I'm flattered, but only if you're offering," Gary grins with a wry squint. "I didn't even get to walk you home the first time! Please tell me you beat the shit out of that flower guy after I left. He was totally asking for it."

Look, they can get to the interview whenever they like. This is important.

Edited 2015-07-21 08:35 (UTC)

Miracle of miracles; despite the importance of the occasion, she's actually surprised to see him looking so neat. It is something of a relief, however, that his casual attitude remains--people just aren't as fun when they get all stuffy.

"I did, and what a sad day it was. You will come back and visit, I hope?"

Not that she could really blame him if he wants to forget about this place as much as he can. As entertaining as the Games may be to her, she imagines they're not as fun when you're inside them--she knows she wouldn't want to do it.

From the other side of the gate, Gary puts on a wide, tight smile. He knows of Sigma only through association. This doesn't work out too well in Sigma's favor--when the biggest impact he's made on Gary's perception of him is through a video of him essentially claiming one of his friends as a personal manservant (trollservant?), and sending his entire view of the Rebellion and his friends involved in the Rebellion into question, it is, needless to say, a little concerning to have to face this man in person. It's even more concerning that he has to win over his opinion. Gary has learned in his time here to understand power, and to recognize where power is held. Sigma apparently holds the power to avox people he doesn't like. Suddenly, impressing him has become a serious problem.

If Gary had a little more insight, he might have wondered if the committee that organized these petitions and interviews picked such a person for him on purpose. Instead he just assumes it's bad luck. He can handle bad luck. Not like he has a choice.

"Yeah! Yeah, sure," Gary says, waving a casually flippant hand as he strides through the gate. It's an answer to all parts of Sigma's introduction--yes it's for the interview, yes he'll join him inside, and yeah, sure, he supposes Sigma went through this once. That particular insight strikes Gary as kind of odd; he can't quite imagine this old guy roaming around town like he's interviewing for jobs, probably because that's not at all how he went about it. Then again, Gary couldn't imagine that Sigma would look more uncomfortable about conducting an interview than Gary feels, so, well. Surprised on both accounts. Already he's starting to unconsciously take advantage of this by striding ahead and leading the way inside.

"Sweet place you have here!" Smalltalk! Smalltalk is an excellent way to fill in the dead air caused by a couple people that are very unsure of one another being forced into a house together. Such a defense comes naturally to him. "It's, like, a gated community, but for just a bunch of condos! I thought you'd have gone for your own private castle or something."

"Only if you return the favor!" Gary calls from the kitchen. There's the sound of the fridge opening with slightly more force than needed as the containers in the door rattle against each other. He starts pulling food out at random. Won't know what he wants to eat until it's all laid out in front of him, as per usual, although this package of bratwurst he's found looks promising. "I'm gonna get the sweetest pad this side of Panem, and if you don't come to my housewarming party long enough to say hello then I'm blowing this popsicle stand altogether. No exceptions."

From down the hall to the Tribute living quarters, two of Gary's tribbles (in matching, hand-knit cozies) trundle their way along the floor towards the sound of his voice. At least one of them is likely to get distracted by China and start veering in her direction.

For having lived in the suites with Wesker as long as he's been in the Capitol, there's a lot about this guy that Gary doesn't know. He's figured out a couple of things, though:

1) He works best in the background, since otherwise the public might be offended by that huge stick up his ass, and

2) It's probably not a good idea to mention either of those things to his face. Not because he's a Mentor or even too snooty to take a joke, but because, as that dragon throne suggests, he could probably kick Gary's ass one-handed and no one would be surprised.

So, yes, there's no denying that Wesker is intimidating as hell, and Gary isn't oblivious enough to approach him in his office without keeping a wary eye on the fastest way to leave it, but he's always willing to look for the bright sides of things. Wesker will want to make this quick, he reasons. He probably wants it over with so he can get back to doing more important Mentor shit. Or like, doodling on his paperwork or whatever the hell he does in here all day. The thought has crossed Gary's mind more than once.

He creeps inside with slow, deliberate steps, hands stuck behind his back so Wesker doesn't see him anxiously threading his fingers. "Hey! So uh," Gary's eyes roll to the ceiling to search for inspiration while he rocks on the balls of his feet. "You got the memo?"

There was a part of him, an even more reptilian hind-brain fed by the virus, that noted the prey-like approach - an antelope from the plains of Africa easing up to the water's edge - and was pleased. The man, however, merely wished he'd get on with it.

Even if he cared about Gary enough to be interested in ending him, he wouldn't do it here.

"I did, yes." He finished his current thought in his notebook - neat, precise handwriting, a slim, shining silver pen - and looked up at Gary. "I assume you're ready to begin."

She actually smiles as she jokes in return. "I can't believe you'd threaten me so. But it seems I am helpless to resist--you shall have your visits."

Though it'd be a loss for the District, she finds herself looking forward to it. It seems that his star is only on the rise for now.

Just as she's thinking of how to broach the first questions, she spots the adorably-decorated critters approaching. "Aren't you just darling?" She looks down at the creatures without much enthusiasm. "And so nicely dressed up. Did you make these, Gary?"

This is about as good of a response as Gary could have hoped for. His mouth twitches into a smile, one of relief rather than enjoyment, as he emphatically nods and steps further into the office.

"I'm always ready." Gary reaches for the back of the single chair and drags it out so he can sit. The legs groan loudly against the polished floor. Hard to say if this is intentional on Gary's part, as he doesn't draw any attention to it. "Hit me."

Reaching for a drawer in his desk, he stopped, head turning to watch silently as Gary noisily settled himself in. Only once Gary had finished - a pregnant beat later - did he start again, pulling open the drawer and retrieving the file he'd been provided.

Moving his notebook aside, he lay the folder open on his desk and picked up his pen again.

"Why do you wish to leave The Games?" he asked, without preamble.

Gary grins at the sandwich he's making in victory. Success. Maybe next he can convince her to bring some of those goodies she made for the last District meeting. The thought crosses his mind and his mouth opens to suggest that very thing, only for both to be interrupted by China's exclamation. His curiosity is suitably piqued. Gary temporarily abandons the sandwich-in-progress so he can see what she's so excited about.

Naturally, it's the tribbles. "Aren't they?" he chuckles brightly. "Nah--the, uh--the Psiioniic made them! You know, that troll guy with the eyes?" And as he usually does when trying to talk about trolls, Gary emulates Psii's unique horn structure by making a pair of rabbit ears on each side of his head before returning to his food. "It's a publicity thing. Famous dogs in designer sweaters, you know?"

Gary suddenly spins around on his heel and holds up a pointed finger.

"--You can, like, pay him to make a few more shipments of those, if you're looking for something fun to do? Man, the look on his fucking face--he'd lose his shit. You should do it."

Well, this is already incredibly awkward. Gary shuffles and adjusts himself in his seat, takes a deep breath, folds his hands daintily in his lap and lets his mouth pop into a smile. He's totally ready for this. Hasn't practiced any possible answers, but he's totally ready.

"Well that's kind of a loaded way to put it, don't you think?" Gary huffs and gives a quick shrug. No, he's not answering the question immediately. Why on earth would he do such a thing when he could babble his way there instead? "I mean--being a Tribute's what got me here in the first place. And the Arenas are such a big part of my tours and music, even when I'm not in them anymore, that I can't just, like, straight-up leave them or anything. You get what I'm saying?"

She nods at his gesture; she's never met the troll, but they're hard to miss.

Dogs in sweaters isn't such an odd concept, but she does wonder just how effective it really is. But if he's kept doing it, perhaps it is. And besides, when it comes to publicity in the Capitol, she supposes that's almost par for the course.

She raises an eyebrow as she stares out over her teacup. "Lose his shit in happiness or anger? I hope you'll forgive me if I don't go about making enemies for the sake of clothing your pets."

All the same, she's almost grinning as she thinks about it. Messing with people can be pretty fun.

"I can neither confirm nor deny any completely regrettable violence done to such a fine, upstanding Capitol citizen."

Which is a no, of course, but she'd love for the answer to be yes. People were irritatingly unafraid of her, here, even after so long. A few public beatdowns might have solved that, but they weren't an option if she wanted to stay out of a jail cell. Fucking Peacekeepers.

"You need something?"

Whether Gary continued to compete or not made little difference to Wesker. In fact, he'd actually already decided what he was going to put in his response to the Naturalization Board.

But he couldn't very well make it seem that simple, could he? It was a whole circus act for the Capitol, and he had a reputation to think of. On both sides.

"You simply longer wish to compete in the Capitol's storied tradition." The pen twisted lazily between long, pale fingers. "But you believe you can bring them glory elsewhere, yes?"

Sigma is somewhat perplexed by Gary's energy. Leading the way into his own house? How... interesting. He must be an enthusiastic young man, the sort he would have been, himself, in his youth.

He realizes he has missed his window for a polite introduction, and curses his poor manners. Hopefully Gary would not have the mind to complain to the press. He makes up for his awkwardness with a kind tone of voice: "Thank you," Sigma answers, chuckling good-naturedly. He steps ahead of Gary only to unlock the door (fingerprint or retina scans were much more common than the traditional lock-and-key mechanisms, but a man with false eyes and arms had trouble with those). "An amusing assumption. A man my age does not require much space. I had plenty of that back in my own world and I decided a change of pace would be most welcome."

Yet in spite of his seventy years Sigma handles his key swiftly and precisely, not so much a twitch or hesitation in cybernetic arms that have not aged. He likes to remind his detractors whenever he can that he is not by any means frail - he was a man who was both victor and gamemaker before. Shielding the second lock - a keypad with an eight digit code- from Gary's sight as he disarms it (gloves protecting the numbers from wear), Sigma continues. "I appreciate the privacy. I would be unable to maintain a larger dwelling on my own, after all." One would think that this would be what Avoxes were for, but, curiously, Sigma had declined to purchase one. "You will have to decide how you would like to live, should you succeed, as well." The door clicks open and Sigma ushers Gary into an extremely spacious, almost sterile, single-floor flat.

"Eh! Probably both," Gary shrugs, spinning back to face the counter. The sandwich he has in mind has a lot of components but is not complicated to slap together--he should be joining China in the living area momentarily. "He's kinda hard to read sometimes, y'know? I think he's just grumpy because he wants to be grumpy. He'll go along, either way."

The snack finished, Gary abandons the ingredients strewn next to the fridge and strides into the commons, picking up the stray tribble-in-a-cozy and plopping it on top of his head along the way. The other one has comfortably settled on top of China's shoes and is purring aggressively at her. Gary flops onto the couch.

"So!" He takes a large, messy bite of his sandwich. "How're we doing this?"

Oh, right, they're playing this game. Gary suddenly feels very paranoid. "Of course!" he insists with exaggerated sympathy. "What a terrible thing that would be! It's a good thing you didn't, or else I'd have to TELL THE PEACEKEEPERS."

See? He's so good at this. Gary clears his throat, completely deadpan.

"--Anyway! Yeah, uh. Did you get the memo? You're supposed to interview me or whatever."

"He sounds like a fascinating individual." Her tone is noncommittal, distracted as she looks down at her new friend and tries to remember how easily these shoes can be wiped off. Probably not so easily, not at what they cost.

At his query, she holds her notebook before her face, studying it intently. Well, pretending to. Her tone remains as placid as always as she mentally reviews the procedure. "I think we start with me asking you a few questions, then I disregard your answers and let my opinion of you cloud my judgement entirely. Does that work for you?"

She glances up at him and his hat inquisitively.

"Holy shit, kid. Calm down."

He is absolutely going to get them arrested about literally nothing. Shepard is convinced that Gary Epps has not so much lived his life as awkwardly squirmed his way through it, somehow.

"That was you?" She'd gotten the memo, of course, but damned if she'd seen a name. Form letters were, as ever, a universal disappointment, even in the aesthetic-obsessed world of the Capitol, "C'mon, let's go get some coffee and get this over with."

The fact that the interviewer's answers to his own questions seem more practiced than the interviewee's might perhaps illicit some confusion from a candidate more perceptive than Gary is. But since it's Gary we're dealing with, the only thing he chooses to note is that Wesker is doing all the hard work for him, and for that he is very grateful. Internally, of course. Right now he's a little too petrified to express his thanks in any other way than to nod and keep up that stiff, slightly-too-wide smile.

"Yeah! Yeah, sure," he agrees, voice bright. "The Arenas were great for launch, now I've got enough material from them that I don't need them so much anymore. That--" Gary squints, and his facade breaks for just a moment to show some earnest anxiety. "--That makes sense, right?"

For what everyone believed Wesker to be, all that he actually was, in that moment, he might have been a doting parent - all but patting Gary's hand reassuringly.

Nodding yes, he spoke slowly and carefully, giving the young man all the time in the world to follow along.

"You understand what the Arenas are, and what the Games represent, and you will be able to serve that history through your - music."

It pained him to call it that, but he endured.

A good-natured chuckle is yet another thing that Gary would not have expected to hear out of Sigma. Or the accepted invitation to smalltalk. Really this whole thing is throwing Gary for a complete loop--he was expecting something like his interview with Wesker, terse and blunt and kind of uncomfortably stiff in execution, and yet here they are, Gary striding along and Sigma casually talking about his house like an elderly neighbor inviting him in to borrow a cup of flour and some sugar cookies.

Speaking of which. "Well if you're not careful, I might just shack up in the space next door," Gary teases lightly as he slips past through the now-opened entryway. For all of his reservations coming into this arrangement, ultimately Gary's astoundingly short attention span wins out, calming him in the casual tranquility of the present situation. He'll have plenty of time to be conflicted about this later. "Low-maintenance, open rooms, probably sound-proofed from the outside and in so I can keep the music nice and loud--" He trots the rest of the way in and, spoiled for choice, hesitates only briefly before vaulting himself over the arm of the nearest minimalist couch and sliding into a sit. "--You make a compelling case, y'know? I'll have to look into it."

This is good enough for Gary, it seems, as his reaction is an immediate and abrupt bark of laughter forceful enough to send Bruiser the tribble tumbling sideways off his head. The little creature lets out an alarmed trill but lands safely on the couch cushions. It scuttles underneath a throw pillow with some grumpy burbling, and Gary seems to forget it exists.

"Well, that depends," he giggles, leaning sharply forward on his knees with a wry grin. "If I take another couple hours to go out and buy you some nice books or something, will that improve my chances?"

...This would be a surprisingly accurate assessment of things. Gary, typically oblivious, cackles briefly like he just told a terrible dirty joke and shoves his hands in his pockets, forcing himself to recover.

"On me?" He's already trotting ahead towards the lobby bar, which he's sure will have something vaguely coffee-related there (and if not, they'll have something even more exciting for him to get his hands on). "I didn't spend nearly enough money on you last time. Let me fix that!"

Because he's already had his interview with China and that's apparently how this works, according to her. Gary is totally fine with bribes.

"Uh--yeah!" Gary keeps nodding, more emphatically this time. The pause and intentionally slow explanation are both signals that he completely misses. It's a bit of a theme of his, this selective attention--simultaneously one of his worst and yet most useful traits. "Loyalty and honor for Districts and all that jazz, I got that. That's--" he brightens with sudden inspiration, "--that's what my music's for, too! Loyalty to the Capitol by continuing to perform for it, honor for all the Districts in their themes and messages. Totally works."

He leans back and balances on the hindmost legs of his chair, looking quite pleased with himself.

She matches his posture, bending towards him as if they're conspiring. "Inestimably. But I assume you'd like to free yourself from this paperwork prison sooner rather than later, so I'll allow you to forgo the offering if you wish."

In a mockery of sternness, she shakes her head. "To be entirely honest with you, I do have a vested interest in keeping you here. And, after all, I cannot fathom why anyone would--" A pause as she not at all subtly looks back to her notes, "--want to leave the Games?"

It was a herculean effort of patience, but even the dimmest mice could eventually get through the maze with enough cheese. Wesker exhaled a long breath through his nose and clicked his pen, shifting to make notes on the pages before him.

"Good," he says, as if he'd expected there might be some other option. "I assume that will be your foremost employment? Entertainer?" The pen paused. Red and gold eyes flicked above the sunglasses to glance at Gary. "Unless you've a day job in mind as well?"

Sigma finds the energy to laugh at Gary's joke, though in truth it unnerves him. He already had difficulties sleeping at night and the last thing he needed was a Tribute taking up residence nearby, though he allows none of this paranoia to show on his face. No matter. It was only said in jest.

As Gary lays claim to his seat it strikes Sigma that this would be the first time that sofa has seen any use. Sigma chooses the chair opposite his and takes his seat elegantly, hands folded on his lap, the picture of serenity. "It is not a bad way to live. Well, one must be careful not to count their chickens before they hatch, as they say," he begins, ready to talk business. He doesn't dislike Gary at all - in fact, the more he observed him outside of the Arena, the more he was reminded of himself in his youth. Still, it would benefit the both of them to make haste.

"Of course, I do not mean to say this as a personal slight against you. I am certain that with the right attitude, you will do just fine." And by the right attitude, he meant Capitol loyalty. Gary seemed like a smart man. He was sure he'd figure that out. "Are you quite comfortable? Would you like to begin, now?" It's his way of asking if Gary would like anything to eat or drink before they started the interview, as Sigma is too shy to show kindness outright.

Edited 2015-09-07 17:10 (UTC)

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Interviews! [closed]

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