thecapitol | Now I Got These Alligators On My Feet [OPEN]

WHO| Black Tom and open!
WHAT| Black Tom is obnoxious as all hell as he prepares for nuptials.
WHEN| A little after the Crowning.
WHERE| Everywhere around the Capitol, the D10 Suite, your doorway.
WARNINGS| Abuse of police authority?

To say Tom's being obnoxious about his upcoming wedding would be a wild understatement. That would be like calling the ocean 'a little damp' or Caesar Flickerman 'a little showy'. Tom's spent the last week being completely insufferable, making a show of having his belongings moved out so he can go live in the castle he received for his Crowning ("it's my third castle, really," he tells anyone who'll listen) and flipping through men's fashion magazines less out of curiosity than because he enjoys ripping pages out, balling them up, and tossing them aside as "complete garbage" for an audience.

Though the denizens of District Ten are taking the brunt of Tom's behaviors, but he takes his egomania out for the odd walk, too. People minding their own business are shanghaied into giving him advice about what the most fashionable styles for facial hair are, and if he should dye his greys out or keep them to look distinguished; other Tributes get asked to model in different tuxedos to see how they look without Tom having to change out of whatever he's in; other Mentors get quizzed on the symbolism of various flowers.

Some of the unlucky souls who haven't answered his and Molotov's RSVPs will find his rapping on their door, then brandishing handcuffs if they're fool enough to open up. "I hate to tell you this, but it turns out you're under arrest, boyo," he says (regardless of the gender of his target).

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"Ah ah ah..." Tom says, all but trilling that noise. He raps his knuckles against the door again, not bothering to hide his grin or just how pleased he is at finally being able to use that authority he had been so eager to get upon his petitioning. It doesn't matter that Quintus might yank all this away the instant he finds out; for this glorious moment, Tom gets to boss people around, including this uppity bitch he so loathes, the woman trying to steal Arya away from him.

Maybe, he thinks, Éowyn would do well to inquire after the fate of the last person who tried to take one of Tom's surrogate daughters from him (spoilers, he ended up dead, and even though Tom wasn't involved at all he will totally take credit).

"Éowyn, if you don't come to the door, I'll have to add obstruction of justice to your charges."

There's a moment of silence, then the door opens again, and she glares at him with the full force of generations of kings who staked their claim with steel and strength. "You may add it," she says, cold and dignified, and with all the gentleness of a steel blade. "For rest assured, thou carrion, thou bile-steeped by-blow of worm and rot, that if thou layest a hand on me, I will break it off at the wrist. And if you set a foot beyond my door, you will find to your peril what strength is yet in me. You will make a poor showing at your wedding, if you should arrive with your nose crushed to a pulp."

There's no warmth in her smile. It's sharp as a dagger, and twice as vicious. "Run back to your men, my muck-spout soft-foot lord, and tell them to return with you to fetch me. For if you seek to take me alone, you will find to your peril how I may repay the dishonours you have done me."

Tom doesn't take any of that ridiculous screed personally. In fact, he seems to revel in it, as if by laying name to everything she thinks of him she's fueling his ego even further. He's getting something out of being so hated, because he believes it to be envy or at the very least attention.

"Are you quite done?" He taps at the door with the tip of his cane, like a dog urging its master to open it. "I'd much prefer to arrest you peacefully, but if you insist we could come to blows, or I could call my comrades in arms."

Éowyn purses her lips, and looks down her nose at him, curling her lip. "If," she says, with the exaggerated slowness and care of someone talking to a small child, "you have not understood my answer, then that is on you. I think I made myself quite clear. And it is pitiful that you think there is a man in this world who sees you as a comrade."

And she closes the door again, not locking it. If he wants to arrest her, he's welcome to try. There's a wildness running through her veins, and it would welcome the excuse to forget her duties and responsibilities, to stop caring what the Capitol thinks of her and just break his face.

Tom shrugs, but it's a disingenuous gesture on him, because it implies that he doesn't have an answer and he quite does. While anyone with say at Peacekeeper Headquarters won't be supporting Tom in this (and will likely give him a slap on the wrist for it), he does have a few new recruits who don't know any better that he can break in.

He leaves Éowyn to her stewing and preparation, set to come back within the hour.

Éowyn waits where she is, sitting on her bed, until she's sure he's not about to burst in, then gets up and locks the door (just in case) before changing into her work clothes. When he comes back, she'll be sitting in the chair, with a cup of herbal tea beside her, brushing out her hair. The door is wide open. She's pretty sure he'll be back, and she doesn't see any point in giving them the element of surprise when they burst in.

"Kind of you to open the door for us," Tom says as he waltzes on in, trailed by four interns or new recruits from the Peacekeepers, who don't know well enough to ignore the command of a direct superior when it's completely stupid.

"Cuff her, lads," he says, gesturing for the interns to swarm forward and take her into custody.

Éowyn's on her feet before he's across the threshold, tossing her hairbrush aside and raising her fists. "You can try," she observes, her tone haughty. "You may even succeed. But somehow I doubt this is within the lines of the laws of the place, so I look forwards to your explaining it to your superiors."

"My superiors love me." The thing is, Tom's actually deluded enough to believe that. "Come now, if you strike any of these fine young men and women you'll be held for battery, and that's certain no matter what Falxvale thinks of my arrest."

He pulls out his pipe to smoke it in her living room while the interns do the dirty work.

"And if I strike you?" She backsteps as one of the interns reaches for her, her eyes still fixed on Tom. "I doubt they'd care so much. You're only an offworlder, after all."

Well, that stirs his guts a bit, at least. Because that's the one thing he can't swallow about this place: he can accumulate wealth and power, but he'll always be inferior. He'll always be under the heel of the idiots running the government here or the even greater fools enacting that sham of a rebellion.

"A naturalized offworlder." He tries to say it as a purr but it sounds a bit more like a gurgle. "But I think you recall what happened to you last time you reached out to strike me."

"I've never been frightened of you," Éowyn informs him, and tenses as one of the interns grabs her arm. Her instinct is to throw him off. It would be easy, too, especially with Firo's training: twist his elbow, swipe her foot into the backs of his knees, and he'd be down. But he'd be hurt, too, and that would make things be more complicated. "You think yourself a lord, strut and swell like a fat woodpigeon, but you are nothing. A pup never grown to manhood, crawling on your belly for scraps from the table. I have never been frightened of you, Tom Cassidy, and I never will be, for you will ever vanish into the shadow of greater powers. And for all your pomp and pride, what will you gain? A little gilding of your cage, a little comfort in your prison. You think to become one of them? You will never be more to the rulers of this land than a pet, to heel or attack on command. I am not frightened of you. And if ever you seek to retry our fight, come to me without these men and women at your side, and face me properly."

Now I Got These Alligators On My Feet [OPEN]

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so apparently inventing tolkien-style insults is hella fun

I would never have guessed :p

i know i'm very subtle

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