Such Convenience in Regret After the Fact [Closed]

[whatisay]

WHO| Jason and Sinclair, then Swann; Jason and Wednesday; Jason and Emily
WHAT| Jason takes Wednesday to a photoshoot, and gets caught doing shady business.
WHEN| Week 6, except Wednesday, which is pre-Arena
WHERE| Sinclair's lobby, the Tribute Center, a shi-shi photoshoot, the D7 Suite
WARNINGS| Typical Jason warnings: bigotry, abusive dynamics, general asshattery.

I. Sinclair, then Swann

There's something about courting Sponsors that always makes Jason feel like a dog begging for scraps at the table. Whether or not it's part of the job description, it's degrading, and Jason spends most of the time wishing whatever establishment he's in would catch fire or that his business partners would suddenly find their drinks full of poison.

It's all the worse this time for being across from a man who last saw him behind glass in a cell.

He strides up to the front of the bank lobby and waves down the receptionist. "Jason Compson, here to see Augustus Sinclair? I tried to get an appointment in but I don't know if it stuck or not."


II. Wednesday

As a general rule, Tributes aren't allowed in Jason's car. Wednesday's one of the few he'll give leeway to, although Virgil has to stay in a carrier. Jacques, in a kennel in the back seat, keeps chattering at the scent of the spider and grasping at the thin metal bars. The drive isn't long, and it's even pleasant, Jason speculating on

Today, it's a photoshoot at the reptile house. Jason has to check Jacques at the door, and then Wednesday's taken to the styling area. Lights, makeup, costumes, and bustle that disturbs the poor animals kept in aquariums not even ten feet away. Jason barks orders between checking on his other Tributes' schedules on his phone.

"Alright. I want a bit of her input on the clothing. And minimize the makeup, we're going for creepy child, not jailbait. She's ten." He smacks away an Avox who he deems is brushing Wednesday's hair too slowly, taking over the way he used to run through his mother's hair about a decade ago. "I have half a mind to send the mute half of you to reprogramming and fire the rest of you. This should already be dollars in the bank."


III. Emily

Things have almost returned to a normal pace in the District Seven Suite, monkey aside, with a few Tributes still with a chance in the Arena and Cassian with such limited say in the wardrobes that his only work as a Stylist seems to be procuring fabric. Jason's control over the budget has become somewhat tyrannical, but other than that there have been fewer outbursts from anyone, fewer bruised Avoxes and broken mugs. Jason's waited up night when Emily's been bid on and now, with her Citizenship, only stays late when he has more work than usual.

"Emily, did you run these expenditures past me?" He looks up at her when she walks in in the morning. The monkey is sitting on the coffee table, chewing on a still-wrapped bon-bon. "I expect Cassian to have his hands in the cookie jar, but not you."

Comments

[whatisay]

"It's not just your doing," Jason snips, knowing that both of them are aware that he was engaging in shady-at-best financial practices before they even got together. He stands up too, folding his arms and twisting on one foot to pace away. "And I said I'll figure it out. You don't need to go getting involved, that's exactly what Sinclair wants out of all this anyway."

[cigne]

"But it was my idea that got caught!" She's so frustrated, and she doesn't know what to do, watching him walk back and forth, her little fists balled at her side. "What does it matter if that's what he wants? If it makes it go away, why does it matter? He gets his money back or whatever, and it's gone! Jason, please be reasonable, think about it!"

[whatisay]

Jason stops and turns, looking like he's about to kick over the ottoman or chuck something at the wall. "I said I'll figure it out! Don't you trust me to do at least that? Or is your faith in me worth about as much as my mother's estate?"

[cigne]

"What is there to figure out? He wants his money back, Jason, and you don't have it! It has nothing to do with what I think of you, and everything to do with the fact that you can't make millions of assi appear out of thin air!"

She loves Jason, loves him so dearly, but he doesn't have time to fritter away with a plan here. He can't resort to making money appear through fraud and shuffling, because now the money's the problem, and Swann doesn't see an easy solution for him. It's not something he can fix with a scheme.

"At least let me talk to him!"

[whatisay]

"I'll come up with it, and the fact that you think I can't tells me all I need to know about what you think of me."

If it weren't that winding cord at the center of him, that fraudulent sense of self-sufficiency and value, that were under attack, he would bow to her pragmatism. But instead he digs his heels in, and he slams the door on the way to her bedroom, because to leave the apartment would mean having to go past her again.

[cigne]

"What? What do I think about you because you can't do something impossible?"

But by the time she finishes speaking, he's holed himself up in her bedroom, and she lets out a shriek of frustration, stamping her feet into the carpet as hard as she can. She winds up just throwing herself onto the sofa, howling angrily into one pillow as she throws and kicks the others to the floor.

[whatisay]

He stays in her bedroom a long while, cursing the tickets on vacation together, cursing her, cursing his mother's estate, cursing Gus, everything but himself as he builds up a new narrative for how he's the victim and the most pitiable of the lot with so much ledger-ink on his hands.

Eventually he cracks the door and tries to summon Eta.

[cigne]

Swann eventually cries herself out, as she tends to, and Eta puts her in a more comfortable position, covering her up with a throw blanket. When Jason cracks the door, she's milling around and cleaning, keeping an eye on Swann as she dusts and picks up all the pillows.

It would be too much for her to ignore Jason entirely, so Eta does go to the opened door, but she looks distinctly irritated and disappointed, clutching the feather duster tightly.

[whatisay]

"I'm going to slip out. Help me with that," he tells Eta, hoping that her Avox programming (how long has it been since it was touched up?) will override her loyalty to Swann. He slides out the door.

"I'll call her in the morning and apologize."

[cigne]

Eta certainly won't stop him, and she just motions toward the front door, because he doesn't need help anyway -- Swann's knocked out, and he knows how hard of a sleeper she is. Following him, Eta nods in a not-entirely-sincere way, and puts her hand on the door to close it behind him.

She wonders if it might be time to send another gift to Sinclair. Swann never remembers how many she's sent out or to whom. It goes on the list of things to do in the morning.