thecapitol | [Open]

Who | Torin Byrd and you!
What | The Mini Arena wasn't kind to Torin, but Torin is sick of the hospital. Surely wheelchair theft will solve his problems.
Where | Various places, see prompts.
When | Sometime after the Mini Arena.
Warnings/Notes | Discussion of Arena violence/injury/trauma.

[A - District 2 Suites]
Torin is reasonably certain that the gossip magazines are going to have a field day with this, but for once, he doesn't care. Let Celebrus think whatever it wants to think, he's getting out of the hospital today, even if part of that escape involves being talented at feigning sleep and another part of it involves what is essentially grand theft wheelchair. The end of Torin's time in the Arena hadn't been a kind one. He'd made it all the way to the prehistoric area, an area he should have conquered, should have been able to turn to his advantage to win--

--only to have his time there cut short by another meteor shower. He'd had injuries heading into that last part, but his second brush with the meteor shower had left him battered and broken in more ways than one. He was fortunate enough not to have been hit directly in a joint this time, but he'd still suffered several lacerations and broken bones. He was lucky the meteor shower hadn't killed him this time, and during the earliest parts of his hospital stay when they'd been pumping him full of painkillers, he was pretty convinced it had. But he was off of the worst of those now, and he was feeling better. Not completely healed, but better.

Given the severity of his injuries, no one should really be expecting him to roll himself into the District 2 suites fresh out of the hospital and looking not unlike he has escaped rather than been released. But here he is, coming "home" with his right foot encased in a cast up to his knee and his head wrapped in bandages.

[B - Training Center]
At this point in his life, Torin probably looks not unlike some weird Bond villain...not that he'd know what that is. Though his legs are still covered by a blanket and the outline of the cast can be seen poking out from underneath said blanket, his top half is wearing one of his trademark white suits, complete with a hat that's not quite managing to hide bandages wrapped around his head. Torin feels more like himself than he's felt in a long time, and he's sitting there in that wheelchair with an iguana in his lap. The iguana, which is wearing a harness so he can't run off on Torin, doesn't seem to mind. It's happily snacking on a salad Torin has obtained for it somewhere.

So now that he's back and trying to pretend like everything is just fine despite the fact that he's largely confined to a wheelchair, looking a little worn out, and moving a bit more stiffly than usual, there is only one thing for Torin to do--wheel himself to the Training Center to see what all he's missed. District 2's Tributes had better not be slacking off in his absence, though he doesn't think Leo would allow that. He's a bit of an odd sight, but he's trying to play it off like nothing is wrong. And if he gets nosy about training that doesn't involve one of his Tributes, well, he's been cooped up in the hospital for too long. He's bored.

[C - Outside the Tribute Center]
Yes, it's good to be outside again. After his stint at the Training Center is completed, Torin decides to take a walk. (Or is it a roll?) Whatever, he's still got the iguana in his lap, and he's rolling down the sidewalk, glad to be out in the fresh air.

"Mr. Byrd! Mr. Byrd!" The frustrated, scandalized tones of the hospital workers make Torin wince, and he's about to try to make a speedy wheelchair getaway when one of them catches the back of the chair. "Mr. Byrd, you were not cleared to leave the hospital!" No, this worker doesn't seem at all willing to let him go.

The hospital worker that has not grabbed the chair comes around the front of the chair to confront Torin, though he's flinching back at the sight of the iguana. Mini Arena loss or no, Torin sitting there with some sort of reptile in his lap is clearly intimidating the guy. Torin Byrd has a reputation where animals are concerned, and this guy wants no part of the business end of that reputation.

"Careful, he bites," Torin cheerfully tells the man. "Both on cue and off." The man visibly pales at that. The iguana seems unmoved. To the woman holding his chair, Torin adds, "You're overreacting. I'm fine." He doesn't really look it; the day's exertion has been more exercise than he's had in some time.

She grits her teeth. "No, Mr. Byrd, you're not taking care of yourself. Do we need to call your sister down here?"

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

It's clear someone needs help here, be it Torin or the orderlies seeking to wheel his stubborn butt back to the hospital.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Smart man." But Torin sighs. "They want me to take it easy and out of anything other than a hospital bed for the time being." It's frustrating for him. Very frustrating. That much is obvious in his voice.

"So wheelchair jousting is out of the options?" Cora offered with a grin, "It's not like I'm always at one hundred percent." And to show support, the coach rolled a wheelchair and some dummy lances along the way.

"Or would it be too strenuous?"

The idea actually makes Torin laugh, and the laughter makes Torin wince. "Perhaps later. Right now, I think I just need to catch up with everything. Feels like I was in there for months."

"Maybe a few weeks but..." Leo is quick to offer the prescribed painkillers for his superior, "It's not much catch-up to do yet. Sponsors are getting antsy about a lack of wins in a Career District but I've reminded them of your past service. Youth is at a premium nowadays."

And he's talking in general, "They enjoyed the spectacle enough to not start pulling out."

Torin warily eyes the painkillers--he's had enough drugs in the hospital, thank you--but grudgingly takes them with a nod of thanks. He doesn't like having to rely on such things, but it seems to be a necessary evil for the moment. "We might be a Career District, but we're doing this without the benefit of Career Tributes." Much as he might dislike the practice, there's no denying that's what gets them wins. "At least the spectacle's holding their attention..."

The look on Leo's face was worried to hell and back: for how long can they keep up the act? For how long can they rely on the Tributes before the Sponsors tire of them and have them perform for their District? The answer is uncertain but it's always limited. And as a former trainer to Careers, Cora knows their lot in life is to live fast, die young, and leave a pretty looking corpse.

"Or hope that Cullen or the Batter perform better in the next Arena," he thought out loud before he wheeled Torin, "We have that much."

Torin is quite determined not to end up as one of those corpses, though it feels a little more difficult than usual these days.

"We do," he agrees as Leo starts to wheel the chair, "And I think it should be enough." It would have to be, wouldn't it?

For a few seconds, Leo believed himself to be a failure, that he had not done enough to keep their district afloat and regain their past status. But a creeping horror has come into his mind as of late: the compromise of the Capitol to the Districts.

"What if they demand more? You're strong but you're not fit for another arena until, say never?" he murmured at this, adding a little dark humor at that.

"If they demand more, then I've no choice but to give all I can." Torin sounds resigned to this. He's been resigned to this since he was a teenager, a fresh-faced young Victor who'd seen more death and destruction than he'd ever wanted. "I'm sure I could rally," he adds in response to Leo's dark humor there. "Playing dead and waiting for them to turn their back is a valid strategy."

"And yet, here you are, recovering in a wheelchair with your pet iguana and no one can ever tell you that you can't muster up the strength to keep fighting," Cora encouraged as best he could though there is...conflict in his normally sturdy voice and resolve.

What the hell is going on in the Capitol that they- nevermind, even thinking like this puts me at risk.

"Unless you have a plan to stay hidden, I suggest we take you back to the hospital."

"What, you think they'd come looking for me here?" At least Torin's not being serious with that question. "I'm quite tired of the hospital, you know. So much poking and prodding...and I'm fed up with being told to sleep it off." So he wants to get up and do things.

"Sir, this would be first place they'd look into," Leonidas quipped without missing a chance to poke a bit of fun. "You're sleeping it off, coach's orders at least?"

He wasn't about to lose a respected Mentor like Torin to the hospital irresponsibility and human stubbornness. "Let me at least wheel you in, pretend it was excursionary, right?"

"They're probably hunting me down with tranquilizer guns even as we speak," Torin muses. "I suppose if you took me back, they would be less likely to shoot."

"I was thinking more like those mutt-hunting nets. You and your pet might just manage to elude them before the tranquilizers take effect," And Cora knows that's probably true in some cases. He knows Torin would have fought his way out of the dozing effects and carried on.

"The Dinosaur Wrangler meets his match with a tiny, tiny nurse," he laughed at the thought, "You're going to be fine."

"I actually got out while on tranquilizers," Torin points out. There's a bit of pride in his voice. "That tiny, tiny nurse is going to need something a little stronger."

As Leo wheeled Torin towards the exit, he quickly replied with, "That tiny nurse also has multiple types of anesthesia on stock and ready for unruly patients like you. Are you want to play that game with her?"

Torin was strong but nothing like an injection full of sleepy straight to the ass to ruin someone's day. "You're going to be fine."

[ooc: wrap here?]

"I've played far, far more dangerous games than that," Torin laughs. "I'd hope I would be fine."

[[Wrapping sounds good!]]

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