thecapitol | It'll make me want to kiss you

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It'll make me want to kiss you

Who| Peggy, D10, and YOU
What| Peggy's reaction to the reel is to drink and work out.
Where| D10 and the Tribute Gym.
When| After her Victor Reel.
Warnings/Notes| Trauma, and using exercise and alcohol to deal with that trauma.

Peggy knew it was coming, so it's easier than it would have been otherwise. She just didn't expect them to include Bucky in it.

It won't do for her to show how affected she is. Just because she's keeping her composure, though, doesn't mean she's not affected.

D10

She sits in the common room, doing her work, balancing the budget, waiting for anyone who needs her help finding sponsors or a job. It's like any other day, except instead of tea, she has a glass of whiskey and a full whiskey bottle to keep it nice and filled.

It's the only indication that she might be affected. She will quietly bribe people into not talking about it by leaving out homemade bread, cheese, and meat in the kitchen. They can take what they like, and may or may not understand her intentions to distract them from her Reel and drinking.

Gym

She cycles through all the stations with more fervor today, and runs her body through the wringer, forcing herself to drive her muscles to the edge. It feels good to bruise her knuckles on punching bags and building muscle with pull ups. It feels good to complete another set of plant identification, to set a fire, to make a trap.

If she works out for a few hours longer than she usually does, she's not going to comment. Do you dare?

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Garrett had been taking a break from running the gym's obstacle courses when he noticed Peggy going at a punching bag with considerably more aggression than any defenseless bag of sand deserved. He had his suspicions about why she was pushing herself so hard, but given how brutal this place was, he couldn't blame her.

"You should slow down, unless you want to spend all day tomorrow in bed so sore that breathing hurts."

"Soreness builds character," was all she said as she continued to beat the bag. The truth was that the reason she did this was for the soreness, and the intense training she put her body through made it harder and harder to attain a satisfying amount of pain. It was obvious that she did this often; she was built like an Olympian.

"It also builds up to a shit day that interrupts your workout schedule."

He can attest to how bad things could get from overdoing it. He may not look it, but every ounce of his lean build is muscle earned from a lifetime of running, climbing, and jumping for his life.

"At least take a water break."

Peggy kept beating the bag as she leaned down and picked up a half-finished water bottle, shaking it in his direction before dropping it again. It's not enough to actually adequately hydrate her, but it's something?

"Is there a reason you're concerned?"

Linden's quiet about entering the suite; ever since stealing one of 9's Avoxes until the mistake was noticed and corrected, he has a feeling that he's being watched more closely on the floors above his own, but he's carrying a basket with him, similar to the one that Peggy brought him after hearing about his mother's death. No appetizing smell wafts from it, but he did his best, as she'll doubtless see soon enough.

He bypasses the delicious-looking offerings, going straight for Peggy; she's, after all, the reason he came, because after seeing that Victor's reel, how could he not? He ignores the whiskey for the time being, knowing that even though it's guaranteed to make any interaction smoother and easier, it's also off-limits to him now that he's officially committed to recovery.

"So..." he starts, taking a careful seat across from her and setting the basket down on the coffee table. "I'm not much of a baker, and you probably don't need this, but I wanted to bring it by anyway."

To say that he's not much of a baker is actually a darkly hilarious understatement. The cookies inside the basket are arranged haphazardly and they are tooth-breakingly hard, but if the silver cloth lining the basket and the attempts at decorating the cookies with colors and the names of her fallen friends are any indication, he tried really, really hard to do something for her that could combine their District's traditions in a meaningful way.

Linden is a pleasant surprise. She hadn't expected him to come, but seeing him now, she's not surprised. It's a strong bond, one Victor can make with another. He knew her when it all happened, and he knows that it hurt her, though she had never really spoken about it.

Reliving it just makes it worse, just as reliving his arena must have. As he walks over, she gives him a wan not-quite smile. She considers putting away the whiskey, then decides against it. Linden has more self control than people give him credit for, and he has to learn how to control himself around temptation if he's going to stay sober long term. She won't do anything unless he tries to take some.

"I'm sure it's good. Thank you." She's touched. She leans forward and pulls the basket towards her, opening it up to see what he made.

The cookies aren't the surprise. It's the cloth and the names on them that are the surprise. A lump suddenly makes itself known in her throat and she takes a deep breath. "Thank you, Linden." It's like what he told her about D6's traditions, but with hers too. It's more than just giving comfort to the grieving--it's commemorating the dead.

She has to blink quickly. The gesture hits her unexpectedly hard, and it makes her tear up a little. She smooths her face out instinctively because she doesn't like getting emotional when there are cameras on her, which unfortunately is always.

For all that people habitually underestimate Linden as a result of the damage his lifestyle has done to him, he's clever and intuitive and gifted at reading others. He knows a lot about Peggy, and much of it has been gleaned through sharing her presence and being observant, probably just as much as has been explicitly spoken. She has the distinction of being someone he finds as agreeable as he finds interesting, and that's ultimately why he came today and made an effort beyond his usual twitchy, abrupt contributions.

He makes no move to partake in the whiskey, watching her pull the basket in and open it to peer at the contents. Her breathing deepens briefly, a sign that she's not encountered what she expected... but it isn't a bad thing. It's a connection, an indication that Panem is still more than amputated Districts at the ends of the Capitol's long arms.

"You're welcome," he's quick to respond, glancing respectfully away when she seems to have some difficulty composing herself. "I know there isn't much I can do, but my memory is better than most, and what you told me the last time we spoke is something I haven't been able to forget. For what it's worth, I've thought a lot about it and it's been extremely helpful."

"I'm glad I was able to help."

It takes her a moment to compose herself, but when she does, it's like nothing happened. It's almost painful to ruin the decoration, but she picks up one of the cookies to take a bite and--okay, yeah, it's hard as a rock, but they're like the bones. It's not the skill that makes them good.

"This is helpful too. It's helpful to have someone around." Someone who cares about her, unlike most of the Capitol. "I know that the Victor Reels haven't been completely easy for anyone."

It's an invitation for him to talk too if he wants to. It's hard for her to see them demonize her beloved friend and make a circus of her pain, but Linden still dwells on Scorpii if his finger bone is any indication, and having that story brought up all over again couldn't be easy.

Sometimes, just knowing that some course of action is effective is enough to calm and quiet the uncertain sadness shared by so many unwillingly dragged into the grinding machine of the Hunger Games. Humans in general just seem to do best when they're productive and have some measure of control over their lives' outcomes, and to have nothing even vaguely resembling autonomy is the personal waking nightmare of every Mentor. The Careers can seem unaffected, but Linden is sure it's because the Districters are more awake and in-tune with the reality of having just been upgraded to a bigger cage with more to eat, rather than freed from their often desperate circumstances on the home front.

"I'm around," he confirms with an overbright smile. For now goes unsaid; after years of neglect and abuse, Linden's backsliding health is no secret. "They're easier on some, maybe... if I said this to anyone else, they'd think it obscenely vain, but I've watched mine many times. Less, lately... and that's probably healthier, but I wanted to see his face. Especially before sleeping at night."

Drugs eventually took over that sentinel's watch, but Linden is still wistful for falling asleep to his tapes and the sound of that sly, intelligent voice.

"I'm glad." Now stay that way is what she doesn't say. She wants him to stay around, perhaps selfishly. She doesn't have many friends and she hates seeing his body break down around him, but maybe that's what he wants. Maybe that's the only way out for him. After she herself had once put herself on a path that would inevitably end with her death, can she really say she doesn't understand?

She listens to him discuss his rewatching of his games. She didn't expect it, but she's always known that Linden deals with things differently than others. Scorpii had captured him in a way that is hard to describe.

"Did you love him?" she asks quietly. Maybe the word 'love' is too simple, but it seems like the best their language has for this.

Linden has a way about him of seeming staggeringly temporary. His eyes have a similar glassy, distant quality to Temple's in that they evoke the uncanny valley somewhat, seeing what's not there and through what is simultaneously. Considering they're friends and occasional bedmates, perhaps it's not so terribly surprising that they'd seek each other out for that frost-touched common streak. Whether or not he's tried to commit slow suicide, he wants companionship too, and in this moment with Peggy, he seems at least decently committed to his assertion. If he doesn't always want to stay for himself, or even for Temple, his friendship with Peggy is one that he would miss sorely.

Her question seems to strike him momentarily silent. He's distinctly taken aback by it, but everything about his manner and bearing suggests that he's disturbed rather than embarrassed or coy. "No," he breathes, shaking his head back and forth several times. "It was closer to hate, but a kind that demanded attention and interest. He was someone I couldn't look away from, and I still can't. When I'm by myself..." he laughs, an uneasy sound, as if he knows he shouldn't be saying this. "...I like to play chess. It's always our game, and he always wins. I've tried to change it, I feel like it would mean a lot if I could, but white always wins. The sequence never changes. And maybe it's sick, but I like seeing that endgame where he was the Victor, because it makes the most sense to me."

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It'll make me want to kiss you

Gym

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D10

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