You Talk Far Too Much for Someone So Unkind [OPEN]

[whatisay]

WHO| Jason and OPEN, especially to D7 Tributes
WHAT| Jason's D7 District post!
WHERE| D7 Suite
WHEN| After the mini-Arena.
WARNINGS| Jason being awful.

The first thing Jason does when he gets back to District Seven from his week off on Monday (at about five a.m.) is wake Cassian, and thus the rest of the floor up, by screaming at the Stylist about how August 31st is, actually, a real date and that scheduling forty-seven meetings for it is, at best, unfathomably stupid and at worst an attempt at outright sabotage.

The second thing Jason does is slam out new schedules for every single Tribute and slap them onto the front of each door. To his credit, everything is set up so the Tributes can maximize their incomes and media exposure, and it seems that he's back to courting Sponsors with a vengeance. On the downside, there's very little room left for Tributes to relax or do anything of their own volition. Furthermore, there's not all that much time for Jason to do anything but aggressively catch up and work intensive overtime.

The yelling, throwing things and shoving Avoxes around has been dialed up to eleven, and seems aggravated all the further by any attempts to offer condolences or point out the small details that he seems more prone to miss than he used to.

Friday, after a full week of working his Tributes into the ground, chainsmoking and meeting with Sponsors in hallways and dance halls until he actually wears a hole into his dress shoes, he sets up with an anonymous-looking videographer in the District Seven Suite. The hologram window is set to a peaceful forest. Jason sits on the couch with, oddly enough, a capuchin monkey in a diaper leashed to his wrist and sitting on the backrest.

"Alright," he says to each Tribute as they enter at the scheduled time. "You're going to record your apology to District Seven for fucking up the last Arena and letting their children starve."

Comments

[ruffntumblenut]

"Aw come on really?"

Ruffnut had not been paying very close attention to Jason's decent into madness other then how it seemed to be increasing destruction around the suite. She always appreciated his loud penchant for breaking things out of anger even if he didn't really enjoy it.

"Shouldn't Wednesday apologize for me since she's the one who killed me?" She pointed out, seemingly oblivious to how that was probably the very last thing she should have said to Jason.

[whatisay]

"Maybe you should have done a better job convincing her not to kill you. Or fought back better. Do you think the starving children in District Seven care?"

He gestures to a place where an X is put on the floor with tape. The monkey picks at his ear, and he ignores it. "Stand right there. That's where the lighting's best, I guess. I'm not some damn film jockey."

[ruffntumblenut]

To be fair, Ruffnut hadn't even tried to convince Ruffnut otherwise. More like she had been curious about an iron maiden and Wednesday tricked her into stepping inside. It was entirely Ruffnuts fault.

"Pretty sure they don't. They've written me really nice letters." She shot back in a dry disinterested sort of way. Her attention instead was on the monkey. "What's with the furry guy?"

[whatisay]

"Before you lost again. I hope the next letter is them sharing their recipe for stone soup and boiled leather." He folds his arms and shoots a glance at the monkey, which is chewing its claws.

"Mandated therapy pet. He's supposed to help me with my provider's complex, whatever that is. Apparently I can only function if I'm taking care of a monkey, but I told them I already have a younger brother."

[ruffntumblenut]

She snorts and laughs at his little joke and that's enough to get her to move in front of the camera, but she's still talking to him instead of apologizing.

"So the whole reason you're so mean to us all the time is because you just wanna take care of us? You're more like a viking then I thought." She teases "Or maybe more like a Berserker."

[whatisay]

"According to my therapist. Have I mentioned that psychiatry is a sham, and I'm paying four hundred assi an hour for the privilege of being told fortune cookie nonsense?"

The ideographer sets up, and Jason keeps talking.

"Alright. Apologize, keep it sincere and simple, and try to make it sound like you. Are you ready?"

[ruffntumblenut]

"No, you haven't mentioned it." She shrugged not in much of a position to argue with him. "But if that monkey makes you break less stuff and shout less? I'm against it and think you should give it to me right after this."

She could name it Tuffnut, maybe it would be smarter then the original.

Once they began Ruffnut tried to look sympathetic, it rarely worked on Stoick back home and she doubted it would work now.

"Hey guys...sorry about the whole...not winning thing."

Off to a nice awkward start.

"Yeah I just really wanted to see what that Iron Maiden thing was all about right? And I mean...it looked cool didn't it with all those spikes? But I guess I probably shouldn't have turned my back on Wednesday huh?"

[ A sheepish grin and she's glancing back and forth between Jason and the guy filming her to see how she's doing.]

So uh...I'll do better next time and...OH! Oh hey while I'm doing this, I wanted to say hi to my buddy Hemlock! I'll be writing to you again soon I just gotta finish my next set of necklaces! I learned some stuff at school that might make them even better! I thought maybe I'd send you some keychains this time but then I was like "Does Hemlock even have keys?" So yeah..."

So much for simple.

[homicidium]

Wednesday's not sure if it's just chance that's made Jason schedule her to show up at 8:30pm, or if it's just that he has to work around her school and training and Sponsor schedule too. But one thing is for certain: she is a ten year old girl, and she is already overworked, and she's tired.

Standing well away from the camera, she's already in her nightgown -- short, puffed sleeves and a lower neckline because it's summer, but still black -- and little black slippers. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she stares Jason down, her gaze as straight as the part in her hair.

"I'm not doing that."

[whatisay]

"Why aren't you dragging around a stuffed cockroach or something?" Jason raises and eyebrow, thinking that a few 'candids' of Wednesday looking like an ethereal and terrifying child, plushie and all, might do her some favors on the media. Maybe a stuffed cockroach isn't the worst idea.

Any other time he might have enough stubbornness to get into a contest of wills with a ten year-old. For a moment, he locks eyes with Wednesday, and then seems to just give up. There's nothing obvious on his face, but something perceptibly changes, a sort of weakness or just exhaustion.

"Fine. You aren't the one who needs the guilt trip anyway." He gestures at the couch and bats the monkey's paws away from where it's trying to groom his hair. "Take a seat."

He sighs and nods at the videographer. "You go home. Get me those edits by Monday or I'll hold good on those timeliness clauses."

[homicidium]

"I don't have a stuffed cockroach." She says it very matter-of-factly; she has a doll that she's decapitated and a creepy stuffed bear from the Crowning that Ermac gave her. She also has a pet tarantula, the first and only non-food item she's purchased with her money (his name is Virgil). But not a stuffed cockroach.

She pads across the room and climbs onto the sofa, sitting on the edge with her feet dangling as she eyes the monkey. "Why do you have that?" she asks, and it's not that she thinks it's an odd thing to have a monkey tied to yourself, but rather that it seems to be a sudden change of heart regarding animals.

[whatisay]

"Maybe we ought to change that." If Jason learns about the decapitated doll, he's having Wednesday do an entire photoshoot with it. There are definitely some teenage clothing lines that fit in with the aesthetic, although Wednesday's age might be a hindrance there.

"Mandated therapy animal. My mother died twelve days ago." Jason rummages through his workbag, avoiding eye contact as he says that and pulling out Wednesday's file so they can go over the next week's schedule. "Do you know how to tell if one of these has rabies, by the way? It seems something you might now."

[homicidium]

"I think any cockroach made into a stuffed animal would be too cute. I like my doll better anyway."

Wednesday doesn't offer any sympathy or even seem to really note that his mother is dead, beyond noting that apparently they give you a monkey if your family dies here. Which is weird. "Unless it was infected today, it doesn't have rabies. Monkeys die very quickly from rabies, so they go through the stages in about two weeks. It would already be rabid if it were infected in the time you've had it, and dead if it were infected before."

A large, black tarantula slowly crawls from the little pocket on her nightdress and settles in her lap, and she strokes its back as if it were a kitten.

"So I guess just don't let anything bite it."

[whatisay]

"Not if it had beady marble eyes. We could have a really uncanny valley cockroach for you. You never know. What's this about a doll?"

Jason isn't afraid of spiders - god knows there are enough of them running aroun the manor - but he does raise an eyebrow and lean in curiously, like he doesn't believe that Virgil is alive until he sees a leg move again.

"Does that include that tarantula?" He looks like he's not entirely opposed to having his therapy pet go rabid.

[conifer]

When Emily hears Jason stamping around the suite and screaming first thing in the morning, she locks the door to her room and gets back in bed. While she's felt bad for him during his bereavement, it's been a breath of fresh air being able to run Seven without him interfering and rubbing up everyone the wrong way. Her nightmares have kept her up half the night, and she doesn't have the patience or energy to deal with him right now. When she does emerge at a more reasonable hour, she tries not to let her apprehension at how fraught he seems show in her face, instead offering him a tentative smile.

"Welcome back."

[whatisay]

"If you can call it a welcome. Did you see what Cassian did to my schedule?"

Jason's hunched, gargoyle-like, over a notepad and his phone, taking a small break from rescheduling appointments and writing up a proposal for the channel marketing Gritta to turn her shape into a marshmallow marketed to children. It takes a moment for him to even stop writing and look up, tucking the pen behind his ear and remembering, rather suddenly, about the state Emily was in the last Friday he saw her. It snaps him into some vestiges of decency.

"Sorry. How have you been?"

[conifer]

"If that's what you were yelling about first thing this morning, I can guess it's something terrible." She frowns as she darts her glance over to the decorations on the wall in lieu of Cassian himself. "I wanted to take that over, but he insisted. I'll know better than to give him actual responsibility if he can't even handle making appointments."

She looks a little uncomfortable at the memory of the last time she'd seen him, swallowing heavily before responding, though truly grateful to him for his continued concern over the matter. "I'm all right. I've tried not to think about anything except for holding the fort, it's easier that way." She shifts awkwardly as she gazes at him, feeling her own concern for his wellbeing and knowing that it may not be welcome. "I was sorry to hear about your mother. If you need anything at all..."

[whatisay]

"Forty-five meetings for one day because he thought August 31st wasn't an actual date. Nevermind that even if he was were right about that, that would be a terrible idea." Jason throws a pen against the coffeetable, shaking his head.

"I don't." He says it quickly, betraying it less as truth and more as a way to avoid actually talking about any of it. The funeral's over, the arrangements for the house are being made, and he's moving forward less for the future than to just put it behind him as much as he can, as fast as he can. "Hope I didn't give you so much to hold down that it stopped being easier that way."

[conifer]

Emily gives an irritated sigh. "It would be even worse if it weren't a real date. Everyone would think we were just avoiding them, and they'd take their sponsorship to another District." She wanted to have words with Cassian about his idea of 'help' herself, except that she was sure that he'd had about enough of a reprimand from Jason already.

"All right." She sounds a little uncertain, knowing that she'd need all the support offered to her if it was her own mother, but not wanting to press the issue. It was nice feeling that her and Jason were on the same side for once, and she doesn't want to rock the boat. "No, don't worry about that. It was nice to keep busy." It made her able to just focus on what she was doing, and not think about the many things that were troubling her. "Want me to take half of those appointments Cassian made?"

[whatisay]

"Exactly. I hate to say it, but having to look completely incompetent and reschedule everything is actually the better scenario he left me with." Jason rubs his palm against his forehead and gets up to get more coffee. "You shouldn't take half. Most of these are contract drafting anyway, and since you're a Districter, you know."

It doesn't matter that he knows Emily's capable. What he isn't saying, the backhand inherent in the comment, is that he doesn't think she can read well enough to do it.

"Glad I didn't leave you in too much of a lurch."

rolls in here late

[drinkupmehearties]

The ding of the elevator stopping on the D7 floor is the first indication of another arrival to the Suite commons, then there's the fluttering flap of wings, a screeching squawk as a brightly colored macaw swoops in and lands somewhere near D7's Escort. Following shortly after is Jack with his swaggering gait, sweeping his gaze around the room until it settles on Jason with a brief press to his mouth. Fantastic.

Crackers begins to preen himself, scratching at his feathered neck with one foot held up, then lets out another loud squawk while Jack takes in the hologram and Capuchin sitting on the couch. He should turn around and leave, see if he could find Swann elsewhere, but he can't resist making a remark about this whole scenario.

"Found yourself a friend, eh, mate?"

[whatisay]

Jason glances up from where he's writing in code in his notepad to see not one of his Tributes, but Jack, Swann's coddled and inebriated pet (as far as Jason's concerned). He sits back and tucks his pencil behind his ear.

"How do you know he isn't another Tribute? He's about as smart as one." Jason shoves the monkey off his lap and gets up, tucking his hands into his pocket. "What are you doing up here?"

[drinkupmehearties]

He slides a flask from his back pocket, the steel engraved with his name on one side, uncapping it and using it to point at the monkey. "Pity that, then. The Capitol mustn't have an entirely too great opinion of you if they've resorted to sendin' you monkeys on leashes. Good luck, mate." He chugs from the flask, leisurely picking his way over to where Crackers had taken perch to try and retrieve him. The bird bobs back and forth on its feet as the pirate nears, folded wings held apart from his body.

Jack shrugs. "I'm allowed to wander where I like, aye?" He offers his arm to the parrot, but the bird shuffles away from him and bounces again, beak working. "But in all truth, I'm lookin' for Swann, she wasn't in the Suites." And then, with a curl to his lips, Jack adds, "Not that your surly, sulky presence isn't an absolute joy to be around."

[whatisay]

"I'd think it's you they don't have that high an opinion of. Not that I blame them. But no, this is a therapy monkey. I'm supposed to..." Jason makes a gesture with his hand, almost like shrugging. "Work out my feelings about caretaking or some nonsense like that."

It's clear from the way Jason's voice all but drips disdain that he thinks this is all a load of bunk and a waste of time and money, but is getting at least a little kick out of having something new and unusual to bitch about.

"Swann's not here- hey!"

Jacques, the monkey, bounds to the edge of his tether towards the open flask, yanking Jason's wrist and, more explosively, scaring Crackers into flying across the room.

[drinkupmehearties]

The first quip receives a half-lidded eye roll from Jack, but not much more beyond that. He's not freshly revived from death, not like the last time they'd met, and so the jabs that Jason makes needle him much less than they had before. Instead, he busies himself with clicking his tongue and trying to draw Crackers away from his perch without startling the bird further into the Suite.

His brow furrows, however, as Jason explains the reason for the monkey's presence. The expression on his face isn't mocking -- he's genuinely bewildered. "Really? With that? A monkey?" In his experience, Barbossa's lovely little Capuchin had been a wild, wriggling, screeching plague on the ship and his life.

"Blimey, how in the world is that supposed to help -- OI bugger!" He yelps as Jacques jumps at him, instinctively clutching the flask to his chest. The parrot, in the meanwhile, had disappeared from the couch in a violent flurry of flapping and squawking. He lands on a table across the room, scrabbling to get a good footing atop it, and echoes the pirate's cursing without missing a beat: "Bugger! Bugger!"

[whatisay]

Jason's opinion of Jacques isn't much higher than Jack's of Barbossa's pet, although, to be fair, current behavior aside, Jacques is generally pretty quiet and unassuming for a painfully understimulated and ignored intelligent creature. Maybe a little misbehavior has been incredibly overdue.

"Of course you'd teach that damn bird to curse!" Jason says, pulled to his feet and towards the kitchen by the monkey. His own fury manages to startle both animals more, and Jacques scampers across the counter, knocking over the coffeepot on his way as he swings around wildly on the edge of his tether. Coffee spills everywhere.

"For God's sake, can you help me catch this thing?" Even though Jacques is actually tied to Jason, that isn't helping him calm the monkey any, and in his panic Jacques is now baring his teeth as he wriggles around.