thecapitol | ab initio

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ab initio

Who| Phi and anyone on the Capitol side!
What| Phi arrives in the Capitol and has a look around.
Where| D4 floor, and around the Capitol.
When| Present time.
Warnings/Notes| None presently

[A: D4 Commons or D4 Rooms]
Phi arrives at her room with the typical Peacekeeper escort. She's half expecting the door to be locked when they leave, but she tries the knob and finds it free to turn. There won't be any damsel in distress in this tower. She can be her own knight.

With that much confirmed, she leaves the door open and turns back to the room. Her first order of business is to check every nook and cranny for something that might be useful. Unfortunately, the room is as barren of any useful tools as a prison cell, though much more luxuriously furnished.

Venturing out into the common rooms, Phi takes inventory of the kitchen and the living space. She gets the impression of being in some kind of high-class hotel suite--and there's a familiarity to it as well. There's a memory sitting in the back of her mind of a space like this, though the furnishings were much different. Likewise, she remembers Sigma being there, but that isn't the case right now.

There are other doors in the hallway that she came from, but those ones don't belong to her. She wonders if anyone is home, or if she might take a peek while the owner is unaware. Pressing an ear to the door, Phi listens close for any movement inside the room.

[B: The Capitol, anywhere]
The world outside is dazzling. After spending several cumulative days in the confines of a lunar base with only eight other people to speak of, the sheer numbers of buildings and people are overwhelming. There's a kaleidoscope of color walking the sidewalks, and it's all that Phi can do not to stare at the people. They look ridiculous, but at least that much is uniform.

She wanders as far as her feet will take her, provided she's not stopped from entering any restricted areas. She's not aware of where those are, but her ability to pick up on the behavior of others is pretty keen. She pauses at various shops, inspecting the window displays with internal curiosity, but not venturing inside. As far as anyone can tell by her expression, she looks bored with virtually everything she sees.

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I consider my work in Panem very important. Phi snorted out a breath of air through her petite nose, her eyes deadpan and her mouth pressed to a thin line.

"I'm sure you do."

In truth, she wanted to trust Sigma. Trusting Sigma was the natural course that her instincts felt compelled to guide her in, past betrayals be damned. He had learned his lesson from that one mistake. As dumb as he was about other things, he wasn't stupid enough to make it again.

But she was equally tied to a script, if she wanted to help him keep his act. Wouldn't they be equally as suspicious if she suddenly acquiesced to his explanation? Oh, riiight, of course. Wink wink, nudge nudge. Sigma probably had some stupid harebrained plan up his sleeve--god, the puns were catching--but if he wasn't in a space to tell her about it, she would have to play along. If it was being likened to the Nonary Game, then their survival might depend on it.

"That depends." The waitress takes that moment to return with the appetizers that Phi had ordered, and so she pauses to let the woman set down five dishes that were significantly fancier than they needed to be. She felt that her point in running up Sigma's tab was made. Idly, she begins to help herself to the shrimp, taking one of the pieces and dipping it in the sauce.

"I have faith in Sigma Klim. But the man sitting in front of me looks and acts more like Zero Sr. than Klim. Kinda hard to put much faith in that."

Edited 2015-11-18 05:23 (UTC)

Her attitude should not surprise him anymore, but Sigma is stunned - she was astonishingly cold around a sore subject. He had thought that Phi was the only person who considered Sigma and Dr. Klim one indistinguishable identity, and it was what kept him sane as he felt his old personality slip through the cracks. The idea that she is helping to save him does not cross his mind and his mouth draws into a thin, hopeless frown. "That's unfortunate. This entire time, I thought you knew that they were one and the same." He had only ever done what he had to - and has never stopped being Sigma Klim. That's his last word.

Having lost the energy to argue, his gaze draws inward. He is only vaguely aware that the waiters have dropped off their appetizers - it isn't until one accidentally nudges the table as they leave that he is returned to reality. He stares in astonishment at the arrangement, speaking without thinking. "...Isn't this a bit much? You can't afford this." Wait for it, Phi. Wait for it...

Edited 2015-11-24 01:55 (UTC)

Phi fights back a wince at the reaction her comment receives. She nearly groans out of frustration. A swing, and a miss. It's not the first or last time that Phi thinks to herself: Sigma is way too soft to be doing this. He cares too much, and that more than anything has her worried that he's going to get in over his head. And she doesn't doubt for a second that if things went south, he would take the full blame on himself. He would die for the sake of doing the right thing. In another timeline, he almost did.

It makes her want to shake the sense out of him--or back into him, as the case may be.

Instead, she answers his comment with a shrug, still focused for the moment on the food she's eating. "Who said I was paying? I thought you were inviting me out to dinner. Dad." Her deadpan gaze lifts to meet his, a gentler confrontation than she originally intended for this moment. It's still clear that she's annoyed by the rumor, but she waits to hear what he has to say first.

The state of his funds makes him cringe. The truth was that he was already deep in debt - it would surprise the average Capitolite just much it cost to have a private, unrecorded session with a Tribute, and he would rather not know what a Capitol loan shark was like. This thought soon becomes the least of his problems as Phi drops the last word he wanted to hear. Sigma fumbles the fork above his serving plate and withdraws his hands from the table, the tension between them set to ignite. He holds Phi's gaze warily, expression blank and perfectly still. Financials forgotten.

"Where did you hear that?" His tone is even, but critical. He need not waste his energy on excuses yet; it was perfectly possible that this was her idea of a joke.

Phi's gaze fixes first on the fork that Sigma fumbles with and then up at his gaze. She knows that he knows exactly what she's talking about. What she doesn't know is why that rumor came about in the first place. She would have thought Sigma smarter than that. She would have thought him more trustworthy than that.

"Television. Magazines. Tabloids. Take your pick. Does it really matter where I heard it?" There's an edge of annoyance in her voice, but she's not wielding it against him just yet. He gets a chance to explain. "What matters is where it came from. So how about it? Where did it come from, Sigma?"

Sigma's metal hands stay perfectly still while his blood beats in his ears. This topic should not make him nervous. It was the product of tabloid entertainment and he had no reason to feel threatened. Decisively breaking her gaze, he retrieves his dropped fork and begins to fill his plate as calmly as he can feign. Very well, then.

"Several Arenas ago- in a mall themed game, if you must know- there was a bookshop that printed faux biographies of Tributes' lives." A tactic to make them panic, to make them think the Capitol had them in the palm of their hand in the face of rebellion. "What they didn't know they extrapolated. It was a gimmick and that's it. The product of someone's overactive imagination..." There was a limited run in the Capitol for memorabilia purposes, but he will not encourage her to read it. There is truth in there he does not want even her to know.

"They decided to make you my daughter to embellish a boring stretch of research with plot. It also happened to make several events in the Nonary Game more dramatic, of course." Such as choosing which of his children would live... his fork slams down on a sausage with prejudice. "Thus, the misunderstanding perpetuated. Does that answer your question?"

Edited 2015-12-02 20:19 (UTC)

"Mostly." It answers her question as far as where it came from, but that only brings rise to new questions. If it was such a frivolous over-dramatization, why was it still present now? She got the impression that arenas lasted a while, and the time between them was just as long. How long had this rumor been circulating? Months? Years?

"Why didn't you correct it?" He has to know that was a sensitive topic for her. She had told him about her parents in confidence. Because yes, he was her friend, and she had wanted him to understand that part of her background.

Sigma has collected enough appetizers to stand in for an entire meal, but finds he has suddenly lost his appetite. He sets his plate in front of him and pushes food around his plate with the back of his fork just to have a place to watch. "What would I have done?" He reigns in his frustration as best he can, but did she expect him to shout it from the rooftops? "I was a Tribute, now a Gamemaker. We are a part of the single most important program in this nation's history. One must expect baseless rumours - denying it would only give the subject more publicity."

The truth was that he found himself unable to refute most of what was said, but he will not apologize for being slandered.

Shouting it from the rooftops was an options, yes. She would have preferred that over letting them say whatever they wanted.

"Don't give me that bullshit. Do you expect me to believe you're that powerless to shoot them down?" She didn't honestly expect Sigma to be the one to suffer through 'baseless rumors' as he calls them. He was the goody-two shoes. The straight-laced good guy. If someone was spreading lies, she would have thought him to be the first to speak up.

"I'm not playing this game." She picks at the closest appetizer, moving some of the food onto her plate and using the distraction to not look at him. Her tone comes across coolly. "They're full of shit, and if they ask, I'm telling them."

The first time he'd heard it, he'd done what he could: he'd burned every ink and paper copy he could get his hands on. This, as far as he knew, only legitimized the lie, which settled down once left alone. But people had irritatingly long memories - the dust had been kicked back up in time for Phi to breathe it in. Still, he suspects nothing that he says will convince her this was a misunderstanding on her part.

"You're welcome to," he snaps, "and you are welcome to the consequences. You're a Tribute, now, Phi. The public will consider themselves entitled to your time." He was trying to help her, but would rather not be sucked into such drama mongering. Refusing to let the rumour die was the same as picking at his wounds.

Now something inside him is smoldering. He'd gone through hell and when at last he had the ability to find the only person who might understand, she had turned against him for something out of his control. He was pissed off, but will give her one more chance. Cooling his temper, he watches her arrange her food, trying to remind himself that this person was one of the most important parts of his life. "You know that they are baseless. I..." -here the poker face came on- "...know that they are baseless. How is that not enough?"

It's not enough. Phi doesn't want to admit that Sigma struck a nerve with that question. They might know that it's a lie, but it doesn't feel like enough. The world shouldn't have a right to her life. What had these people ever done to earn that? Nothing. That they think they could make up stories to fill in the blanks of what she doesn't want them to know--even worse with things that are outright upsetting... It makes her furious.

Sigma is not her father. She doesn't know who that man is, but she knows that much can't be true. Not only because it doesn't make sense logically or because the probability is so insignificant, but more importantly because she doesn't want him to be. Her father was an asshole. He wasn't there when her mother needed him. He wasn't there when she herself needed him, when she had nothing else in the world. He walked away. She can't stand to have that said about Sigma--one of the few people she's been able to really trust.

She can't stand the way that he shuts her out, either. Playing in the Nonary Game with him, she felt like she understood him. He was easy to read most of the time. Sure, there were timelines where she thought she had misjudged him, but in the infinite possibilities of time and space, those were bound to be there. This Sigma felt a little like that--like those times when she couldn't read him, couldn't predict whatever he was about to do. It isn't a good feeling to have on her end.

"Because." She answers his question with a non-answer. Her gaze flicks back up to his face and stares at him critically, her mouth set into an unhappy line. "Do you know that they're baseless, Sigma? Do you really believe that?"

His heart jerks sharply in his chest - here is the question he had hoped she would not ask. He cannot pretend that the idea isn't, however unlikely, plausible, and Sigma disguises the seconds he has to think of his answer with a long, frustrated sigh. This conversation has riled him up, but he remembers what the stakes are for Phi, who has been her entire life without her father - a father she did not regard kindly.

He folds his hands on his lap and treats her question with the concern she expects. As he chooses his answer his expression cycles from anxious to hard, hard to sympathetic, and from there to confidence. The decision he makes is not made on likelihood or even logic, but because he believes it is the answer that they both need, going forward.

"I do."

The way he sees it, there are a lot of things he had faith in that paid off - Luna, for one, and even Phi herself. In spite of her enigmatic past his trust in her was not misplaced. There was no sense in dwelling on paranoid delusions. "It is completely nonsensical conjecture. Refute whom you must, but please, put it out of your mind until then." He attempts to ease the tension by picking up his fork and continuing their meal. He even tries a joke: "I had my hands full as it was, and believe me: one child was enough." He was fortunate that his legacies in Panem skipped the infant phase entirely.

Edited 2016-01-07 04:07 (UTC)

Phi notices the way he doesn't answer immediately. Her stare bores into him, unwavering as he expresses his frustration with a sigh. He can stall all he wants to, but she doesn't intend to let him off the hook without answering her.

When that answer finally comes, she isn't sure if she believes him. It's the answer that she hoped to hear, but that in itself makes her more suspicious. Was he only saying that to appease her, or did he really mean it? It wasn't like he could know for sure. A younger (older?) Sigma certainly had no problems acquainting himself with the opposite gender. But the more she dwells on his answer, the less she wants to really think about it. He was a pervert, but there was a line between his crimes and her father's that she didn't think Sigma could cross. He cared too much.

"Fine," she ultimately concedes, her gaze dropping away from his to assess the state of their appetizers. With the way that they've both been picking at them, there's still plenty left. Phi scoots a little more onto her plate, now that her appetite has started to return. She doesn't laugh at Sigma's joke, but she does consider the change of topic with mild interest.

"Did you actually raise Kyle? Akane said he was your clone." Which doesn't necessarily mean that he grew to maturity in a test tube, but the way that K acted always made her wonder if he was emotionally stunted in some way. Not fully developed, perhaps.

Safe from the sting of Phi's gaze, Sigma's shoulders sag in relief as she accepts his answer. He urges himself to believe that he has made the right one - and with enough repetition, one could be convinced of anything. Unlike Phi, he's lost his appetite, and finds himself content to sample what he has on his plate. It always amazed him how much a girl her size could eat.

Her next question is somewhat blindsiding, but hardly offensive. Chewing on some shrimp, he lifts an eyebrow. "Of course I raised him," he answers flatly before swallowing. He wonders how Kyle's origin has anything at all to do with his upbringing and can not come up with a relation. "He was removed from his culture at the appropriate developmental milestone for a newborn. I was on my own at the time and babies lack the capacity to be self-sufficient for several years." Sarcastically, as though that much should be obvious. It has not occurred to him that she may have been asking if he'd been there Kyle's entire life.

Remembering Phi had once disclosed a fondness for babies, a mischievous thought gleams in his eye. How many could boast of knowing the secret soft spot in her steely persona? "You might be interested to know that he was quite cute," he teases, but behind his ribbing is a deep affection for the child he brought up from the cradle. A paternal boast, of sorts, and he forgets for an instant that he is also flattering himself. "Even- perhaps especially- in his infant-sized armor. I believe you would have liked him." In spite of himself, Zero is proud. In the days of little sleep or work he'd often brought the baby to the treatment room and asked aloud, in his insomnia, what his friend sleeping in ice thought. Most of the time, he came to the conclusion that she'd pass him off as soon as he needed care. Typical.

Sigma remarks on the technical aspects of removing Kyle from the culture and providing her his needs, but there's something about the answer in general that gives her an entirely different opinion. He doesn't seem to realize that she wasn't talking about simply providing food and shelter for the child. No wonder K turned out the way he did.

But he turns the conversation in a new topic, and there's no way that she's going to let a boast like that slide without comment.

"You realize you're also talking about yourself, right? That's kinda narcissistic." She can't help but point that out. She's not about to be suckered into agreeing that Kyle might have been cute, only to have that fact tossed at her later. She doesn't know if the misdirection is purposeful, but she's not falling for it either way. She continues, more idly and with a tinge of humor.

"To be honest, I feel bad for anyone that ends up with your genes. I doubt Kyle deserved that."

Sigma's proud expression immediately drops into a hammy glare, pretending to be offended. Anything to step away from subject of Phi's parentage. "Not even close," he gently scolds. Don't be a bigot, Phi. Clone babies were just as legitimate as viviparous births. "You're incredible. I do not know where to begin breaking down just how wrong you are. I won't even grace your comments against my infant son with a response. Secondly... I'll have you know my genes are perfectly serviceable. It was my 70th birthday last summer, for your information. How many septuagenarians can boast that they were healthy enough to play in the Games?"

Sigma finds himself surprised that this comment did not improve his mood. He'd forgotten for the entirety of the conversation that he is no longer the same age as the person sitting in front of him. Shit. That made him feel old.

"Not healthy enough to win," Phi shoots back with relative ease. She pops a cocktail shrimp into her mouth with cool flippancy. This route was an easy one to fall back into, their current situation be damned. For half a second, things feel almost normal between them.

"Maybe that was why they promoted you. Pity can go a long way on the social ladder." She doubts that was it, but there's rarely a point in time where Phi isn't willing to take a shot at Sigma for his age.

Sigma opens his mouth, lifts his finger to retort that he came plenty close- probably!- ...until her dig at his position. He flinches; only one of them knew exactly how he'd been promoted and Sigma withdraws at once, pretending to be taken by the scenery. They were pretty high up, weren't they? One strong gust could knock them easily from their perch...

"...You know what? Maybe you're on to something," he stammers, unwilling to joke at the Initiate's expense. His stomach twists into a tight knot - the shrimp smell is suddenly intolerable. If he didn't tell her, Phi would find out on her own, but there's no way to broach the subject with his lack of nerve. "There's gruntwork in Gamemaking that may ruin an Arena if done incorrectly. You can imagine the consequences. May as well have the Offworlder do it..." Then, pretending this was still a part of their routine, he smirks, dismissing the gravity of his statement with a wave of his hand. "Perhaps you should consider yourself lucky."

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ab initio

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i'm so sorry for this tag

apologize for nothing

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