a last hurrah [OPEN]

[capitolprivilege]

Who| Stephen Reagan and anyone in D6
What| Stephen's been keeping food in the D6 rooms. It doesn't look like he's doing it on purpose -- it looks like leftovers he just forgot about -- but it's deliberate.
Where| Six's rooms
When| The weeks between the freezing of Tribute credit lines and Altair's attack just before the 4th wall event
Warnings/Notes| None yet!

Food just keeps showing up.

The Tributes of Six haven't seen their Escort nearly as often as they're used to. Cyrus Reagan can be thanked for that -- when Stephen is around, it's in pressed suits with understated, tasteful amounts of shine and sparkle, suits too fancy to wear every day around Six. Unless there's an event he's supposed to take one of his Tributes to, he's been rushing out or stumbling in -- not because he's drunk, but because he's tired.

But boxes with labels from Capitol restaurants keep appearing in the D6 fridge. The food in there looks anywhere from half eaten to barely touched, never messy, never gross. It's usually healthy, almost never just dessert. He never seems to notice if it disappears. After all, the roommate code clearly states that if it's not got someone's name on it, it's fair game, right? Stephen's probably just forgetting that he has it. That's perfectly normal.

About one or two nights a week, food is delivered to Six. Those evenings, Stephen is around at least for a little while to poke at what he ordered, before he invariably decides to abandon it in favor of sleep. For purposes of the log, he's still sitting at the table, looking thoughtfully at the hearty meal in front of him that's too big for one person to finish.

It smells amazing.

Comments

[capitolprivilege]

Stephen frowns, looking Linden up and down. He doesn't trust that Linden's stitches will stay in place and he doesn't trust that Linden is telling the truth about his back, but he also doesn't trust that Linden won't go wandering off on his own. If he goes for a walk with Linden now, he thinks, at least there will be someone nearby to call for help if Linden does suddenly collapse.

"I shouldn't be letting you go for a walk," Stephen groans, pulling himself up out of his seat in the slouching way that says I've given up trying to stop you. "I should talk you into more rest."

[dead_black_eyes]

To be fair, anyone looking at Linden on a good day probably can't find many reassuring things about him.

"Whether or not you let me, it'll happen," he confirms stubbornly, seeing an opportunity. "And you can try to talk me into whatever you want, but not here."

He stares at the man a beat longer than he would ordinarily before blinking.

"If you're so worried, put your money where your mouth is and come with me."

[capitolprivilege]

"Ugh. This isn't how the job is supposed to go," Stephen complains, climbing to his feet and slipping the shoes that he had kicked off under the table back on. "I'm supposed to tell you where to go, not the other way around."

In a few seconds, he'll have his shoes on, his jacket straightened, and be ready to walk out the door and not notice that the food he left on the table will be gone by the time he gets back.

[dead_black_eyes]

"Job? Please, it's a lifestyle," Linden argues. "That goes for any and all staff, doesn't it? Especially with the neverending Quell in full swing."

It's small talk, intentional and shallow, while he watches Stephen's shoes go on.

"If you bristle under being told what to do, consider it a request from an old friend instead," he says, stepping through the door and into the hall. "Surely you can see your way clear to humoring that, at least."

[capitolprivilege]

"They're all phrased like requests," Stephen complains as he heads for the elevator. "And the ones that aren't are assumptions, which is worse. 'Stephen, there's a gala tonight. Eight o'clock. Don't wear red.' 'Stephen, I need you to oversee our lot at the auction Saturday.' 'Stephen, it's a closed guest list, so no plus-ones, okay?' God, it makes me wish I could turn my phone off for a day."

[dead_black_eyes]

"You're not talking about us anymore," Linden points out flatly, waiting for Stephen to pass him before following. "I never had a brother, but I know for a fact that your relationship with Cyrus isn't normal at this point. It must be some kind of incest for him to have his hand so far up your ass."

[capitolprivilege]

Stephen feels a full-body cringe. Ugh. That was an idea he could have gone the rest of his life without thinking about.

"That's disgusting, Linden," he says, like he does when Linden occasionally says something gross. "I know it's not normal, but he probably just doesn't trust I won't screw it up again, like I did a few months back. I figure he'll back off once he knows I'm not about to show up to a party in a nude-illusion three-piece or wake up hung over and married to Candi."

Man, it was a shame he couldn't see Candi anymore. Stephen had liked her, genuinely.

[dead_black_eyes]

"You know what I mean," Linden presses; when he knows he's right, he is unshakable and staunch in his conviction. "And if he doesn't trust you, he shouldn't be working with you. It's why I kicked the last Escort they tried to stick this District with," he admits, letting that implication hang like a wreath arranged just to broadcast how he feels about their partnership. Simultaneously, it broadcasts how much he resents Cyrus' interference in a dynamic he's come to rely on.

"Those things can't possibly still be in doubt. You haven't even seen Candi in weeks. Months? At least weeks." So much has been happening that Linden's perception of time is a little skewed and not nearly as precise as it typically is.

[capitolprivilege]

Stephen remembers that. There are many reasons he's grateful that his personality and Linden's have been as compatible as they are; not being on the business end of Linden's feet is one of them.

"He's got no choice but to work with me," Stephen explains to Linden with a longsuffering tone. "That's part of being family. You can't fire family, or kick them until they quit. What he does affects me, and what I do affects him, so he has to make sure I understand what to do. I've had to do a lot of catching up. Until now, I've been dead weight at best and dragged him down at worst." He doesn't have to repeat what's been said about him: he is the Reagan with no ambition, the playboy, the partier, the one who should be too old for this by now.

He's arguing Cyrus's side for the cameras.

[dead_black_eyes]

It's rare to find a combination that clicks with a personality as famously finicky and difficult as Linden's; they have to strike a ridiculously delicate balance between being gentle and being firm, and even if Stephen has the reputation of a partying playboy lacking ambition and maturity, he's got a gift for that kind of balance. Linden not only likes him, he respects him, and lately, with the kind of delicate information-gathering and passing they're both doing, that kind of rapport is key.

"I wouldn't know," he answers dryly, as an orphaned Districter might when faced with one of the luxuries Capitolites take for granted. "But you haven't been dead weight. If he can't see the good you've done for 6, he's dumber than he looks."

The banter is in-character; what would be suspicious on-camera would be Linden simply agreeing that Cyrus' role in Stephen's life was a necessary and beneficial one. Though their relationship has always been strictly platonic (and maybe even strangely, considering Stephen's willingness to engage seemingly anything that moves), Linden has been known to behave jealously sometimes. And why wouldn't he? Stephen represents an element of much-needed stability in the very volatile life of a Victor.

[capitolprivilege]

Stephen has only come to realize this relatively recently, but the kind of respect he gets from Linden is like air. It is important, extremely important, he's realized, for him to feel trusted and respected as well as being liked.

"Yes, but Six doesn't matter to him," Stephen explains carefully, keeping almost but not all the exasperation from his voice. "Nothing about the Hunger Games matters to him except whether or not they're serving their purpose. Half the Districts could be screaming messes and he wouldn't give a damn as long as Panem stayed stable. Trust me -- by Capitol standards, I've done pretty much nothing with my life."

Well -- by Capitol upper-crust standards.

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden offers him a sidelong glance before rolling his eyes. His contempt might not be loud, but he wears it colorfully at times, and while that's dangerous, Linden's always had a hard time with authority. This has only gotten worse as he's gotten older and more wraith-like every year, as if the Capitol is grinding down his soul and only leaving a bitter skeleton behind.

"Standards, huh?" he asks dryly, sounding unimpressed. "If half of the Districts were screaming messes and it didn't matter to someone, I can't much say that that person matters much to me. But, he's your brother, and I guess that deserves some kind of 'respect'."

A practiced ear knows the difference between respect and "respect", in Linden-speak.

"By District 6 standards, which do matter to me, you've done an outstanding job. I've said it before, but I still mean it when I say that I'm pretty sure we'd fall apart without you."

He turns a corner. He's gotten good at finding blind spots, and knows that there isn't one too far away. Stephen might very well be informed of the same one.

[capitolprivilege]

Stephen lets out a long sigh, letting some of the tension fall away from his shoulders.

"Thanks," he says, sounding both calmer and wearier. "It's good to hear that, Linden. It really is." That, cameras or no, is the honest truth. Stephen thrives on feeling effective, like what he is doing is making a difference, and well-earned compliments matter to him.

He keeps walking toward the blind spot. Stephen doesn't know about this one, but he trusts Linden to know them. He'll follow.

[dead_black_eyes]

"You're welcome."

The words are soft and earnest, every bit safe and palatable for the cameras and the microphones. The second they're in a spot that's free of them just near an Avox elevator, though, Linden's expression turns solemn.

"It's safe here. To speak freely. Shit's about to go pear-shaped, isn't it?"