Between the daylight and the deep sea

[drinkupmehearties]

Who| Jack and a few closed prompts.
What| Meeting up with people.
Where| Various places around the Capitol.
When| Sometime after the most recent Crowning.
Warnings/Notes| Alcohol use and NSFW for smut in a thread.

( China -- Library. )

Jack is seated at one of the tables nearest to a window, one leg crossed over the other, ankle-to-knee, paying little mind to the gawking stares of passing Capitolites that notice there's a Tribute in their midst. Next to the faded brown tricorne hat that he'd placed on the table was a stack of books that China had handed him awhile back, ones he'd just recently gotten around to getting through.

He'd taken advantage of the quieter time that the mini-Arena had provided to power through the books, an attempt to keep his thoughts from straying to bad places, knowing that friends and fellow Tributes had been once again out there fighting and killing for their lives. Maybe it was a bad sign that Jack had somehow lucked out on not being reaped for the mini-Arena, an indication that the Capitol was growing increasingly bored with him. Or maybe it was plainly just luck.

Whichever it was, he'd used that time to leaf through the books. Truthfully, most of them weren't particularly interesting or thought-provoking -- there'd been a couple dry biographies of important political figures heavily saturated with propaganda, a few recounting the 'glorious' history of Panem and the Capitol, and one or two books unraveling the lives of a few past Victors in the older Arenas. He'd read them hoping to gain further insight on what sort of madness Capitolites believed to be truth, beyond the scathing 'history lessons' that were routinely given by certain Escorts over the network.

After finally finishing the last book, Jack had dropped a note for China in the D11 Suites to meet up at the library, remembering that she'd been eager to have a discussion once he was done. As he idly waited for her arrival Jack fooled around on his device, occasionally shooting wayward glances towards the door.


( Alain -- The Speakeasy. )

Since the credit lines had been cut, the pressure for Tributes to get a job and earn their own assi had been tenfold. He hadn't been immune to this, as old Sponsor money and generous district staff members sometimes only went so far.

While Jack wasn't particularly keen on needing to be held accountable to someone else, to being pinned down to responsibility and more routine, another part of him disliked the idea of being indebted to other people -- which made him torn between making real attempts to get a job and half-assing it so that he could later say that he'd tried. Thus the pirate enters the bar dressed relatively nicely, wearing a fitted, buttoned jacket and his hat. The Speakeasy was a cozy little night spot with loud music and snugly secluded booths, a place that he'd visited in the past and revisited a few times since. If somehow (miraculously) he landed a job here, it wouldn't be too horrible of a place to work.

He's leaning with both elbows on the counter, patiently waiting for one of the managers that the bartenders had gone to fetch, when he spots Alain. He vaguely recognizes him from various pieces of Arena footage and the Capitol's exposé on him, and sidles closer so the man can hear him over the noisy environment.

"Alain, was it? You're a friend of Roland's, aye?"


( Eowyn -- Stables. )

It's early in the afternoon when Jack strides into the stables, clad in a dark vest fitted over a loose, long-sleeved shirt, the flask that Swann had given him upon his arrival tucked securely away in his back pocket. Eowyn had invited him to check out the stables not too long ago, and even with his general disinterest in horses, the pirate had nonetheless agreed to come and visit. The stunt she'd pulled in the last big Arena -- snagging a wild horse from the middle of a herd and riding the animal until exhaustion forced it to yield -- had definitely still left an impression on him.

And, really, it couldn't hurt to check the place out.

Jack is curiously poking around the stalls when he spots Eowyn, and he wanders over in her direction to greet her with a warm grin. "Afternoon, luv. How's has the day treated you?"


( Swann -- Marina. )

This time Jack is found snoozing on the commons couch in the D8 Suite, passed out after attempting to chase a hangover from the night prior with more booze. An Avox sweeps silently over to him, nudging him to stir awake and gently placing a note in his hand.

Pinching the bridge of his nose and knuckling both eyes, Jack pulls himself to a sitting position and sluggishly turns the paper around a few times until the words come together into coherent sentences -- it's a note from Swann, urging him to get into the car waiting for him outside the Tower, ready to take him somewhere.

Assuming it'd be some type of photoshoot or Sponsor luncheon or guest appearance, Jack complies. It's not until outside the city proper, where glass and steel melt away to reveal a vast lake dotted with boats, that it becomes more readily apparent what this trip could be for. He exits the car, tempering his excitement for the time being and shading a hand over his eyes to peer out at the lake. Another Avox eventually urges him forward, leading him down one of the docks to where Swann is waiting for him.

He greets her with a grin, revealing the metal in his teeth. "So then, what's this about?"

Comments

[cigne]

Swann stands at the end of the pier, almost wiggling with excitement. Finally, finally, she has something truly good to give to one of her Tributes, and it obviously makes her just ecstatic, enough so to dress up like the cutest, frilliest little pirate to never sail even one sea, from the tiny hat pinned to her hair all the way down to her ornate thigh-high boots.

She beams and spreads her arms wide, and the Avoxes behind her pull down a big white sheet of fabric to reveal a picture-perfect replica of the Black Pearl, only made smaller, less a quarter of the true size, but big enough to sail around the lake in. Big enough to be satisfying, knowing they're nowhere near the ocean and this is the best she can do.

"This is about the Pearl!" she says, flitting toward him to take his hand as the Avoxes put up a gangplank, which Swann chose over a regular ramp for authenticity. "It's ready for you, every inch of her. I've been calling her Little Pearl."

[drinkupmehearties]

The outfit is a wonderful touch, if not enough to make him laugh a little, and her enthusiasm is contagious. Once the sheet falls away and reveals what's beneath it, too, the genuine delight on Jack's face is clear as day.

"Blimey, I'll be damned and done. They've done an incredible job of it." For a few long seconds, despite the noticeable differences, he can't tear his eyes away from the boat. Of course it's not the Pearl, painstakingly detailed as it is, and no boat could ever really match up to his beloved ship. But it was something, and it made his heart ache with excitement and a fresh yearning to sail again.

"Little Pearl," He repeats the words with a considering tone, trying out the name. Then Jack allows Swann to grab his hand, using it to tug her hand gently upwards and, if she'd allow it, to give a quick, appreciative kiss on the back of her hand. "Thanks very much, luv. Truly."

And then he swings a hand towards the gangplank, grinning. "Let's go an' give her a try, aye?"

[cigne]

She giggles when he kisses her hand, just beside herself with bubbling joy, and lets him lead her up the gangplank, her heels clicking on the wood with every step.

"So we used all the things you told me, plus all the pictures we could get out of the Gamemakers," she tells him, because of course it's the Gamemakers who get the impossible footage from other worlds and distribute it as they see fit to the media. "We replicated everything possible, and what we couldn't, we tried to make blend in. I can always change anything if you don't like it, too! And of course we don't have your crew, but we do some servants who are originally from District Four, I made a special request. They sail out there, so there's no learning curve."

It's not a big crew of men, only three, but they are clearly burlier than most, and they're already competently raising sails and preparing the ship. They aren't Avoxes, although Swann does seem to have stuck them in some kind of pirate-like uniforms so that they blend in.

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack is tempted to ask how exactly the Gamemakers were able to get pictures of his ship, but something tells him that Swann wouldn't know -- or wouldn't share that tidbit of information, even if she did. Besides which, at the moment, he's far less concerned with that and much more preoccupied with the ship that she'd just handed over to him.

"Wonderful," Jack murmurs distantly, distracted, his eyes scanning fore and aft of the ship, taking it all in. He runs the palm of his hand flat along the top of the railing, the new paint still fresh enough to smell, winding a slow path towards the ship's wheel. The District men are given a cursory once-over; they've busied themselves with the sails and getting the ship under way, and Jack was too eager to start sailing to speak with them more in depth just yet.

"Aye, they seem to have their wits about them. Good to see." He hadn't personally vetted them -- which gave him pause -- but the men appeared to know what they were doing, and that was good enough for the moment.

[cigne]

Wow, Jack. Sorry she didn't pick the drunkest and most physically-impaired sailors she could find. Harrumph!

Swann follows him slowly, hands folded in front of herself, watching closely for his approval and reactions. She feels personally responsible for this ship, and if he doesn't like it, it's on her, and it could possibly backfire enough to lose them a major Sponsor.

"And... and I had the cabin stocked for you, I tried to pick things I know you like, and if you ever need anything replenished, or that I missed, you can just tell one of the crew, okay?"

The more and more preoccupied with the ship he is, the more she worries that something's wrong, that he hates it.

[drinkupmehearties]

Well! After years of being a captain and having the ability to hand-pick the men he's going to sail with, it's more out of a desire for that old routine -- and to have that feeling of control over who he's stuck around -- than it is doubt about Swann's choices. Beyond which, he figures he needs to know that he'll get along with the men.

But with the last of what she says, Jack finally notices that she's been attentively following his movements and words. His hand drops away from the railing, and he indicates towards the cabin door, flashing her a grin.

"Sure enough, luv, I'll keep that in mind. Should we give the cabin a look, then?"

[cigne]

To be fair, the Capitol is also a landlocked place, so his chances at finding people with the necessary skills are incredibly slim even if Capitolites weren't all spoiled and opposed to doing manual labor. They would still be as unequipped for sailing a ship as Jack would be for masonry in District Two. So Swann's gotten three of the maybe seven people in the city who can do this job.

He's free to ask to speak to the other four.

Jack smiles and she immediately perks up some, like a dog whose owner has suddenly walked into the room. She beams back and opens the door, leading him in. The furnishings have again been shrunk down to fit in the smaller space, but what's there is as true to the original as Swann could get.

"Well?"

[contrarianlibrarian]

China tries never to rush, whether it's to oblige another person or to satisfy her own excitement. But, in this case, said excitement is unusually high, so she allows herself to proceed to the library at an unusually brisk pace after finding Jack's note.

She slips into the library and casts her eyes about until they fall on him. Her typical smile becomes even brighter. "My, my, what a pleasant surprise."

As she passes any lingering gawkers, she asks quietly for a moment of privacy. It isn't as if she'd asked Jack here to share him with anyone.

"What's the verdict? Did you enjoy them?"

[drinkupmehearties]

He puts the device away and shifts forward in his seat, returning the smile with one of his own and motioning with a hand to have her take a seat.

"A pleasure to see you again, Miss Sorrows. And aye, I enjoyed them." If not mostly because they'd been a great educational source on the way Capitolites were taught to think.

"I found meself thoroughly enlightened, as it were. Though, admittedly, I found the books about past Victors the most fascinating of the lot."

[contrarianlibrarian]

She perches, facing him, both hands rested in her lap. Her smile is warm and eagerly springs to her lips. "I'm very glad to hear that, Captain Sparrow."

"Did you?" One eyebrow rises. Briefly, she doesn't want to encourage any wrinkles to form on her forehead. "Do you see yourself joining their ranks, perhaps?"

The obvious answer would be that Victors have much more exciting lives than most Capitol reading makes for. But this man, she's sure, isn't wanting in terms of excitement. Perhaps his reasons are more unusual.

[drinkupmehearties]

"Aye, o' course. That's a given, innit?" A brief grin slips onto his face.

Even if his past two Arenas begged otherwise, Jack had faith in himself -- or at least, in the fact that he wanted out of the Arenas. The adoration showered onto the Victors was enviable, in its own way, sure, but having a ticket out of the bloodbath was even more appealing to him.

"But moreover, I hadn't had much insight into District life until now." His hand waves vaguely in the air, gesturing. "Where the Victors came from, what their homes were like, that sort of thing." The other books had been long-winded, poorly-masked rants about the terrible Districters. The Victor books, however, had been decidedly lighter on the contempt. "So I found it a treat to read."

[contrarianlibrarian]

She smiles back. Of course. "I fear I can't wish you odds too favorable, considering you oppose my District... But my well wishes are with you nevertheless." Given the lack of Careers--her usual favorites--China hasn't had many to root for. With the entertainment and interest he provides, Jack is an appealing Victor to her; he's one they should keep around.

"I don't believe there are too many of your peers who harbor such curiosity about the Districts." She says it without any outward judgement of either side, though it's an out-and-out lie. Little excuses for the lack of well-distributed information on these subjects must be made.

"I admit, I know little of them outside what I have read. Nonetheless, they remain fascinating study. Such a different world--though do you have a different perspective, now that you've had a peek?"

For some of their captives, she supposes the lives of Districters may be a little bit familiar, in their drudgery.

[drinkupmehearties]

He taps a couple fingers to his temple, that curl to his lips slipping into something more appreciative. "Naturally, I'd assume as much. Either way, thank you for the well wishes, luv."

Of course, Jack doesn't quite buy that the other Tributes aren't that interested in the Districts. They were, after all, the supposed reason behind this insanity. But China was definitively a Capitolite, and he wouldn't find it surprising if the Tributes around her feigned disinterest in such a touchy topic.

"Aye, it's a much different beast out there. From what I gathered, their lives are much simpler, much more basic. Nothin' like what you'd find in the Capitol." Scarcity and destitution running rampant, ravaging the population, while the Capitol was comparatively built on excess and indulgence. It'd been a sad picture to imagine, and to think the Capitol had forced their children into death matches on top of that.

"But I'm curious as to your thoughts on it, as well -- they must seem vastly different to you."

[shieldofrohan]

Éowyn turns her head, matching Jack's smile with one of her own even as she goes on brushing down the black mare she's grooming. "Well enough," she answers, stroking the horse's neck and lowering her brush. "The better for company that is not tongueless. Wait but a moment, while I clean this girl's hooves, and I shall be with you."

It doesn't take long - the Capitol horses aren't often let out to roam, and while that has its own problems, it also means their hooves are spared from pebbles and clods of earth for the most part - and when she sets down the last of the mare's legs, Éowyn heads out of the stall, wiping her hands on her simple blue shirt.

"What brings you down here?" she asks, her tone friendly, as she closes the gate behind her and settles on a nearby hay bale. "I thought you mistrusted horses."

[drinkupmehearties]

"Aye, that always tends to make for a more lively conversation." He comes to lean against the outside of the stall, patient, making himself comfortable as she tends to the mare.

Once she's finished and out, his smile widens. "True enough, they are, to a one, thoroughly knavish creatures. Haven't met one I could trust yet." He's not being serious, from the light tone to his words and amused expression that flits across his face. "But I figured I'd come to see what the fuss was about down here. And, o' course, it's always a delight to see you, luv."

[shieldofrohan]

"You've met those raised by knavish men, then," Éowyn retorts, but her voice isn't entirely serious either, and there's a twitch of a smile at the corner of her mouth. "Perhaps unsurprising, for a man who stands such a knave himself." It says something about how much she's grown to trust him that she can react to him like that - insult him without actually meaning it as an insult, where with a stranger she would be so much more straightforward. Just to be sure he knows she's joking, she leans over and claps him on the arm. "I cannot dream that you would mistrust them so, had you spent more time around them."

[drinkupmehearties]

"Me? A knave?" He lifts both eyebrows, as if affronted -- except for the knowing glint in his eyes. "Perish that awful notion from your thoughts, dearie. How could you ever think it?" He's self-aware enough to know that most people found him to be an untrustworthy rogue. He'd even used that to his advantage on more than one occasion.

And, of course, it wasn't necessarily untrue.

"But alas, you've got a point. I haven't known, in me time, many horselords. Or even, men who did well with the beasts." Horse-riding wasn't an incredibly popular hobby for the poorer sailors out there -- particularly pirates, who were more likely to sell off a horse for a quick coin than ride it anywhere. "Perhaps it would do me good to spend more time around them, and you could show me where I'm wrong."

[shieldofrohan]

"Perhaps. Though I think the greater part of it is just mistrust." Éowyn digs in the pocket of her trousers for a moment, coming out with a granola bar. Unwrapping it, she breaks it in half and proffers one half to him. "Too many people mistake horses for dumb beasts of burden. But they speak as loud as we do, in their own ways, and they know when they are misliked. You have to win them to your side as you would a friend, speak softly to them and teach them with a loving hand, or else they will await their chance to spite you."

Taking a bite of her half of the granola bar, she settles back on the hay bale and grins at him. "Of course, like men, some will mock you anyway, and try to throw you. It can't be helped. But even rogues can be befriended."

[drinkupmehearties]

"Could well be." Jack pushes off the wall to accept the offered food, moving to neatly settle in next to her on the hay bale, shoulder brushing slightly against hers amidst the movement and a musing smile pressed to the corner of his mouth. "Ah that'd be me first misstep, then. I hadn't thought horses had such a keen sense about the people that handle them."

He's dealt with animals as livestock in the past, generally as cargo to be transported and sold at different ports. But tending to them past that was a little beyond his interest.

He chews on a bite of the granola bar, then lets out a short laugh at what she says. "True enough, and you seem to have a great knack for dealin' with it. Though, I'd wager I'd be a fool of a man to spite such a lovely woman like yourself."

[atouchofka]

"Aye." Alain looks around with a little nod, unsmiling. His relationship with Roland is just a little fraught since the exposé, for various reasons, but they're still friends.

He's currently dressed smartly, in a suit and string tie, his blonde hair neatly parted and scraped down on his head. It doesn't suit him; he's too baby-faced and too chubby for smart clothes to make him look put-together and adult. Instead, he looks rather like a young boy dressed for church, and as though he's probably rather hot and uncomfortable under the dark fabric. Like Jack, he's here looking for a job and is waiting for the manager. Also like Jack, he doesn't really want to be looking for a job, and it shows. He has a job already, to his mind, one he was born and raised to, and trying to act as a bartender or a photograph subject or anything like that... it feels curiously like turning his back on himself.

After a moment, though, he manages to summon up a little smile for the pirate. "And you're the corsair. Sparrow?" He listens well, does Alain, and has made a habit of checking in on his fellow-Tributes as well as the staff. It seems like the least he can do.

[drinkupmehearties]

The body language when Roland is mentioned doesn't escape him, but, bad as it was, Jack hadn't paid super close attention when the exposé had been run -- so his knowledge of their relationship landed a touch on the side of superficial.

"Met him in me first Arena. Good man." He'd shared food and fire with Jack when there'd been no need to, and the pirate could appreciate that.

The question, though, causes the corner of his mouth to perk. "Aye, and -- " He's quick to lift a hand, finger up. "Captain Jack Sparrow, if you would. Or Captain Sparrow, if you'd prefer it another way." He waves his hand. "Whichever." He nods towards the door where the bartender had disappeared. "I assume they've got you seeking out work as well?"

[atouchofka]

Alain files that away for future reference, and nods, his smile fading away. It's something, though, to know that Jack considers Roland a good man; counts as a point in the pirate's favour, although Alain doesn't know whether the feeling is mutual. Anyone who can see through Roland's haggard exterior to the good man beneath is worth some respect, and Sparrow doesn't seem like he's only saying that to curry favour.

"They have," he agrees, after a moment. "Seems strange to find work other than that I've been raised to, but if I must, there's worse places than this, I guess." It seems like a good way to meet people, and more importantly, he knows from experience that bartenders hear more than most people realise, and see more than most people imagine. In a hostile place like this, that has to be of some benefit.

[drinkupmehearties]

He's spent a good portion of his life living and working around perpetually grouchy, gruff sailors, enough to know how to deal with them. No small surprise, then, that him and Roland had managed to get along almost right off the bat.

Jack hums in agreement with Alain. "Without a doubt, it could be much worse." There was definitely a certain appeal to a noisy, packed bar, as opposed to the assortment of other ritzy Capitol places the pirate could be forced to work. Reminded him a bit of home.

"What manner of work were you involved in, before this?"

[atouchofka]

"Gunfire and lead," Alain says matter-of-factly. "Like Roland. I trained with him as a gunslinger, in our boyhood, and took my father's guns when our home fell. Fought under Roland's command in the war, up until I died." He almost - almost - manages to sound callously matter-of-fact about that last bit, but can't quite help the little wince at the thought. It isn't his death in itself that troubles him, but knowing what it did to those he loved, and knowing it was for nothing. Besides, no amount of training or killing can quite soften the blow of watching your own brains splattered out in high definition polychrome.

He looks down at the bar for a moment, gathering himself, before he looks up at the pirate again. "Something of a change, you could say, coming to seek work here."

[drinkupmehearties]

He dips his chin in a short nod. "Ah yes, he mentioned somethin' like that when we spoke. Being a gunslinger." He'd said the title with the same wistfulness and pride that Jack felt for his own captaincy, impressed with the same emphasis -- despite being so very far from home -- that it still be used in this place.

But the mention of dying has him offering a sympathetic sideways glance. He's been there, even before the Arena.

"I'd say so, aye." He leans back on the bar. "Spent most me life working at sea, on ships and boats, meself. This'd be quite different change from that." He shoots a quick look over to where the bartender had disappeared off to, still gone, then looks back to Alain with a hint of a smirk. "Not a wholly welcome one, either." Being tied down to a job like this wasn't his idea of fun.