thecapitol | (no subject)

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(no subject)

WHO | Signless and YOU, with a special prompt for Bayard and Psii
WHAT | Dealing with the fallout of the Capitol revoking everyone's credit lines
WHERE | D12 suites/out and about in the Capitol
WHEN | Nowish
WARNINGS | Definitely discussion of slavery in the closed prompt

A. OPEN | D12

It doesn't take a genius to realize that tributes who suddenly have no source of income are going to find it far harder to get basic things like food. Signless, however, is no longer a tribute: he's a Mentor, and that affords him a decent (if not cushy) salary. Even if he can't help his tributes hone their combat skills, he can most certainly make sure they go into the arena healthy instead of starved.

To that end he's made it his mission to stock the District 12 kitchen. While he can guess at basics (tea, coffee, sugar, bread, fruit), he's well-aware that he doesn't know the tastes of his districtmates nearly so well as they do. Anyone who wanders into the kitchen can find him pinning a pad of paper onto the fridge with 'Grocery Requests' written at the top in careful print. His current plan is to restock things either every other week or as soon as the paper is reasonably full, but that's assuming the idea takes off in the first place.

B. OPEN | CAPITOL SHOPS

While he waits for someone to make use of his list, he decides to go on a preliminary run to at least stock up the kitchen a little. He wanders between shops: a few loaves of different kinds of bread here, a bag of apples and a bag of pears there. Soon he has a small but respectable collection of bags.

Particularly of interest to him is coffee. It took him quite a while to get started drinking it, but thanks to Bayard he's started having it more than once every few weeks. Tea was easy to buy -- tea he was familiar with. By contrast he knows next to nothing about coffee; he's just been making whatever was already available in the kitchen in Twelve and trusting it would be good.

"What is everyone most likely to like..." he murmurs to himself, inspecting bags of coffee beans with a furrowed brow. Dark? Medium? Medium, probably, but then there's so many flavors... he probably needs a second opinion.

"Do you know anything about coffee?" he asks the person nearest him. Chances are they know more than he does.

C. FOR BAYARD AND PSII | ICE CREAM SHOP

When Signless stepped out of the tribute tower today he'd assumed it would be a fairly uneventful outing. Now, sitting at a table in an ice cream parlor between a very annoyed Psiioniic and a bloody-lipped Bayard Sartoris, he's wondering where things went so very wrong. He picks at his rose-flavored ice cream and looks between them with a wary expression. There has to be a way to say 'why did I walk into this establishment to find you punching a small child in the face' that isn't quite so... accusatory. Even the Psiioniic is usually better with his temper than that, so Bayard must have said something that really hit a nerve.

"Is your lip feeling a little better, Bayard?" is what he finally asks. He doesn't want to prod Psii for information before he's absolutely sure it won't prompt another blowup. Much as he cares for the other troll, he's well-aware of how difficult he can be when he's angry.

Threaded | Flat

Only the thought of Signless ordering his ice cream for him like a fucking lusus spurred Psii to ask for a red and blue berry shaved ice and sit down like a proper adult. He pointedly looked away with a muscle working in his jaw, still seething. No one ever asked him if his busted lip was 'feeling better' after he got beat up as a kid, but he knew enough not to speak until he was sure he wouldn't just hiss something awful, scathing, and uninformative. His shaved ice in his favorite colors quailed under the heat of the sun, neglected by the troll who normally scarfed anything put in front of him, as if it was in danger of being stolen.

He didn't pick on people smaller than him, murderous troll wiggler or squishy human child. He grew up being on the opposite end of that; he knew better than anyone how stupid and infantile that was. But Bayard opened his mouth, and Psii's fist found itself connecting with his face. Not a hard enough cuff to do serious damage, because that wasn't his intent, but blood was drawn, and here the three of them were.

Psii wanted nothing more than to scuttle away into his tribble pile.

Ermac had noticed the list, and had added a few rather exotic items to it. However, words on a piece of paper weren't something you could eat, so he'd ventured out into the market in search of something affordable and familiar to dine on. He'd been drawn to the smell of coffee; the powerful aroma reminded him of home, of the precious few quiet moments in the morning before any orders could be carried out or news could be brought in. He could just relax with the Emperor's court and enjoy the luxuries that came with being the Emperor's advisor and enforcer.

He doesn't notice Signless until he's spoken to, and the sudden shift back to the present is a bit jarring.

"Hm? Oh. Yes, we know about coffee."

Theoretically, Meulin had come here for tea. Her little sister had a passion for the stuff since they'd come here. The closest thing back home was mint tea, just dried and boiled, but here it came in flavors and varieties she'd never heard of. Her sisters favorite was usually something citrusy but this shop had endless varities of drinks and the pile in her arms is more than a little precarious. Green and black tea, with chocolate, berries, orange and bergamot, vanilla and caramel. Her sister may not like it all, but it'd prove an adventure to try them.

She's about to ask for a bag when she notices the troll staring at the coffee. Even if she wasn't a gossip hound, familiar with all the tributes, mentors and most of the assorted staff, she would know him. Victor and tied in with that whole troll she's a copy of. She sneaks glances at him, attempting stealth, but suddenly he's meeting her eyes and asking something.

Coffee, right? It has to be about coffee. Either that or he knows her from Celebrus and wouldn't that be an awkward conversation to start. She sticks with coffee as her guess.

"...If you're asking what I recommend, I like--hmmmn, that one?" She points to a dark roast, flavored with vanilla and hazelnut that probably tastes as unlike coffee as one can get. She doesn't really like the stuff but if she adulterates it enough, it's palatable and helps her stay up for late nights.

"But I'm not really a coffee purr--person. Too bitter."

It's often enough that Karkat comes up to District 12, looking either to visit his ancestor, his miniature lusus, or both. One tends to end up being incidental to the other. It just happens that today he glimpses his ancestor before he even gets to his room.

"Hey," he says, veering from his path into the kitchen. "I was just coming up to visit. You getting something to--" Eat, he almost asks, only to catch sight of the notepad.

"Oh, trying to help your tributes? Do they actually pay you or are you going to have to court sponsors or get a job like the rest of us?"

There's a note of bitterness to his tone, and his arms fold while his face pulls into a frown. While he has his own thoughts on easing the burden on the Districts, he can't pretend to be happy about the extra work this means.

Sandy's interactions with her "Mentor" have been limited at best, and it's her own fault really. After how many times she's grown attached to a mentor only to have them vanish she's gunshy about inflicting her curse upon this poor guy.

However the growling in her stomach and the promise of food in the kitchen has her lured in and she's peering over the counter watching him pin the list to the fridge. A bowl of fruit rests on the counter just a few inches away...

...feeling guilty for stealing from a fellow offworlder she reaches for the bowl. It's not that she can't afford her own food right now it's just that she's worried about spending what money she has. She needs to get in touch with the sponsors and make sure none of them are going to abandon her after yet another death in the arena. She only killed one person this time and she's not ready to go back to being poor.

Edited 2015-07-26 13:49 (UTC)

Gary probably knows more than the Signless does about coffee, but only comparatively speaking. They had it in the District Eleven suites fairly often, and as Gary is wont to do, he frequently sampled whatever was being brewed at the time. He's hardly a connoisseur--he barely even remembers what each individual cup tasted like. This does not stop him from answering a question about it, especially when Signless is involved.

Actually, that's the main reason Gary is over here to begin with. He shows no interest in the bag of coffee he's poking on the shelf. "It's better with a shit-ton of vanilla creamer?" Gary offers with a shrug and a wide grin. "They have this, like, caramel sugar or some shit, and if you add some of that it's like fucking magic. Who knew, right?"

Beck wanders out of her office looking for coffee and something to snack on while she figures out requisitions, and is a little surprised to find the Signless there. She makes her coffee quietly, watching him, but when she sees what the top of the pad says, she breaks into a dazzling smile (one made more dazzling by her tooth-whitening appointment last night).

"Oh! Are you putting up a list for the Tributes? That's such a great idea! Why didn't I think of that?" She's been grocery shopping on her morning run, filling up the cupboards as best she can, but there's only so much she can buy and even less she can carry. To that end, she's mostly just been buying things she thinks anyone will like - a few sweets here, some ready meals there, bread and milk and cake and other such basics. The Signless' solution seems so obvious, and so much more reasonable, she genuinely can't believe it didn't occur to her. "If you need any help affording it, I can chip in. In fact, why don't we split it fifty-fifty, or more if the other staff want to help?"

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