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[capitolprivilege]

Who| Stephen Reagan and anyone
What| Business and pleasure as usual on the home front
Where| The office of the undersecretary of the Minister of the Future, and also a cafe
When| As backdated as you like, honestly; Stephen's habits haven't changed much over the past few months. Basically, the new year to just after the propo he was in goes live.
Warnings/Notes| Stephen Reagan being disgustingly bigoted.

A:

Stephen Reagan's desk isn't fancy or expansive, but that's all right. He's not sure what he would keep in it, anyway; all his files and all his schedules and all his messages are all done electronically, over the tablet that never seems to leave his side these days. It's more of a workstation than a desk, letting Stephen hook his tablet into its socket and spread electronic copies of forms and documents over the smooth white surface in front of him. It's out of the way, sheltered from the view of passersby by a half-wall, and generally, it's pretty quiet. Stephen's reading with pursed lips, looking over the morning's minor catastrophes, tapping his stylus against the desk as he debates whether or not this needs Ms. Dolar's attention. His suit is clean and neat and well-cut, his makeup subtle, all glitter kept to a minimum. He looks youthful but sober.

B:

It's nice to have a job that, by and large, ends in the evening. Sure, Stephen's taken work home a few times, and sometimes he's got to field things that come up unexpectedly, but it's not the same kind of twenty-four-seven being an Escort was. There's nothing on his plate today that can't be done tomorrow morning, so Stephen, still in the suit he wore to work, is sitting with a glass of wine on the patio of a cafe, watching the sun go down behind the Capitol's glittering cityscape, taking time to relax. In some moments, it's hard to believe the Capitol is really at war. Of course, Stephen never doubts the reality of it for a second, but shouldn't peaceful moments like this be impossible with Panem tearing itself apart? It doesn't seem right to him. His feet are stretched in front of him and his elbow is leaned over the back of the chair. He watches the passersby, alone at his table, separated from the street only by a thin wrought-iron fence that's barely waist height.

Comments

[rediscover]

It isn't often anymore that Anna is seen flitting about the Capitol in her old, carefree way. There was a time when she'd enjoyed seeing the sights, investigating restaurants and attractions, museums and shops, just for the chance to feel like she was free to do anything. But now...things are different. Everything has changed, but more importantly she has changed. Enough time spent with Kurloz Makara will do that to a girl, but on the bright side, any doubts she might have had about the Capitol are gone. Erased. His tinkering has placed her firmly on the side of loyal quasi-citizen and fighter, with the shadows of her former carefree self flitting only vaguely across the surface.

Still, it's good to get out of the house every once in awhile—especially when all of her roommates are in relationships and very amorous—so Anna lets her feet carry her where they may, dressed in something flashy enough for the Capitol but not so flashy that she'd outshine any true Capitolite. She may be a Victor, after all, but she's still an Offworlder.

The sight of a familiar face draws her out of her thoughts; she pauses on the other side of the iron railing, her fingers passing over the sharp points atop it. She hasn't seen him in a long, long time; the last time they spoke, she was fresh out of her first Arena.

"Excuse me..." Her voice is soft, and small. "We've met, haven't we?"

[pimpcanes]

It's not unusual for Peacekeepers to visit the Ministry, but it's nearly unheard of for offworlders. Ministers and former Tributes simply don't move in the same circles; the divide is even starker than it is between Capitolites and Avoxes, at least in terms of who may end up in the same room as another if nothing else.

Tom's aware that he's flouting convention when he goes to see Stephen at his office. It's not that he doesn't know the rules of the world he's spent more than a year in. But still, he acts as if there's no reason it would be odd for him to be showing up.

"Good morning, lad." He raps at the doorway of Stephen's office. "Keeping yourself hard at work?"

A

[talltaleteller]

Connections mean so, so much in the Capitol. Especially when belts are tight and wallets are light. Felicity's mother seemed to know someone who knew someone who knew everyone... and from up the chain of knowing came the news that Stephen Reagan was in need of an assistant. And why, wasn't Felicity eager for some work experience? That a paycheck came along with the position was a real bonus, given that Algernon Yoshida was still not considered fit to return to duty as a Peacekeeper...

Felicity is not entirely sure that she wants this job. It's going to cut into her exam time, which might result in not graduating, and it's definitely going to cut into her writing time... but maybe doing this would be an improvement over all the staring at the ceiling with a knot in her stomach that she'd been doing instead of the studying or writing that she ought to be getting up to. And the money would definitely help out the household. Things weren't at all the same, with Uncle Torin back in District 2 and the... overall general situation being what it was. She was going to have to suck it up and try being an adult, for once.

So there she is, striding into Stephen's office with her head held high and her handbag clutched nervously tightly with both hands, having been told to go in by the secretary. Her outfit is cute and polished and an effort at appearing as mature as possible. The heels help bump her over the five-foot-two mark, at least, and she's quite practiced at walking in them by now. "Aah, Mr. Reagan? I'm Felicity Yoshida, here for an interview?"

Oh no, oh wait, was that wrong? Was she screwing it up already?

Hella backdated

[culturalappropriation]

Punchy's practically invisible in the Capitol. He's a former Avox, disregarded, a hapless brainwashing victim that the Capitol hasn't gotten around to tuning back up yet. For an unwilling soldier, he's given surprisingly little supervision, and has essentially free run of the city. He doesn't have many assi, but he won't go unfed at the Detention Center, so he'll try and get some coffee with the pittance offworld soldiers are given.

He's missed so much. He was away from the Capitol for months with District Thirteen, barely surviving on alcohol and drugs the months before that. He doesn't really realize that Stephen's changed when he sees him at the same cafe and approaches. He vaguely knows that Stephen is in the government now.

But he remembers Stephen. He remembers that there are some Escorts who treated their Tributes well. He always felt safe and tended to around Stephen, which wasn't something Punchy even knew to recognize at the time.

"Sup, dawg?" he asks, sitting down across from Stephen without asking permission.