thecapitol | [Closed] Faster, faster, you won't go far

Who| Clara and Punchy
What| A little bit of closure, a little bit of old wounds getting torn open, the regular stuff.
Where| The Detainment Center
When| Before Punchy's return to 13.
Warnings/Notes| Discussion of death, brainwashing, weird science mental hacking shit, and all other sorts of happy stuff.

It isn't that Clara has been avoiding Punchy since his return to the Capitol. Not really. (Maybe just a little bit.) It's hard for her to think of him without her thoughts turning to Alex because of how they were introduced. And between the war, trying to put on a happy face for the Capitol, and those feelings for James that she's feeling less-and-less guilty about...well, there's a reason why she wants to keep her mind off of Alex. Not just because of the guilt, but because of her grief, her anger at how he died.

Nonetheless, she finds herself at Punchy’s door, debating whether to knock, or just turn around and walk away while she still has her chance. She takes a leap and knocks, almost hoping that maybe he's somewhere else. “Punchy?” Maybe all those worries will be dashed and she won't have to worry about getting an answer.

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Punchy dashes her hopes, not her worries. He throws open the door with the same casual boisterousness that he's been trying to retain since coming to the Capitol, since they've kicked his Avox programming back into gear. It's difficult to stay afloat, far to easy to sink back into the automated thoughtless actions or into nothing at all, a soldier who doesn't eat or sleep and needs to be commanded to do basic things like shower.

So he's fought it. During his offtime, he's only monitored as much as the other detainees, with the understanding that he isn't permitted to touch electronics. Rather than read, he's set up a drum kit in his room, and it glints behind him as he meets Clara, shirtless and with his hair spiked up with bedhead.

She almost singlehandedly manages to batter him back into that automatism. It would be easier than this conversation.

"Hey boo," he says, fronting.

There's something about how he's fronting that just makes her heart twist in her chest. It's not that he's faking it, because most of them are (and if they aren't well...she doesn't like to think about that too much, because it leads to too many trains of thought that keep her tossing and turning at night), it's that the way he's faking it just make her think of Dave. She still isn't quite sure what happened to him, where he is, if he's okay, but she does know that she feels guilty about losing another one of her kids, that whatever may have happened could have very well been a result of her not staying perfectly in line.

"Hey," she says softly. She isn't sure exactly what to say to him. She can't say that she's sorry that he was captured by the Capitol (even though she is, and she wishes he was back in the relative safety of District 13), she can't address the guilt she feels about helping the Capitol, and the darkly humorous thought that keeps bubbling to the top of her brain is one she refuses to voice, that he missed out on his narrow window to try to woo her after Alex's death. It's cruel to say because...well, he's so young, and those are waters she would have refused to tread if he had tried, and she already feels guilty for how her and James's relationship practically snuck up on her.

There's a compulsion to just reach out and hug him that she fights, and instead gives him a small smile that she hopes isn't as tight around the edges as her smiles feel these days (it probably is, considering her luck). "How've you been holding up?" She hopes that the question's open enough that he can answer it without incriminating himself even more in the eyes of the Capitol.

"I'm breezy." He wishes she did reach forward and hug him. It would make what they have here, this pregnant body-sized silence and blank space between them, easier to navigate. He feels as if he's in the confession booth, that she's turned this doorway into that box, that she is the only one who can absolve him.

But he doesn't want to be absolved. He doesn't deserve that. He takes a step back and keeps the door open wide. And he sighs and runs his hands through his hair, which has enough grease in it to hold in clumps.

"You gonna want to come in, because I need to start dropping some serious bombs, hot mama."

"Good," she says with a nod, not reaching out to hug him but instead reaching up to put a hand on his shoulder and give him a gentle squeeze as she finally, properly looks him over.

He...well, he's definitely looked better. She isn't sure if it's a matter of him readjusting to the amenities in the Capitol versus whatever's available in Thirteen (unlikely), or if he's just been neglecting to take care of himself because something else has been consuming him (more likely). Either way, she steps into the room and, despite how greasy his hair is, pats it down.

There are things she wants to say in response to that. A reminder not the say the wrong thing since the Capitol has ears everywhere, even more so than they did once upon a time when they were Tributes. A reminder that calling her hot mama's kind of inappropriate, even if she technically isn't in a relationship right now (in the eyes of the Capitol, at least, considering James is in Thirteen and she...well, obviously isn't). Instead of those, she just smiles, trying to put on a humorous air. "Is it that you're going to start showering again?"

"I been showering! Just, you know, fortnightly." He sounds really impressed with himself for pulling that word out of his ass.

He tries to pass off the greasiness in his hair by slicking and spiking it with one hand, but that's clearly patching a band-aid onto a gaping wound. He kicks some drumsticks to the side as he walks over to his bed. He gestures she can sit in his rolly-chair, if she wants.

And he sighs, takes a deep breath that goes all the way down his chest.

"We gotta talk about Alex, boo."

The look on Clara's face is pure maternal frustration. While she never had to deal with David as a teenager, she did deal with Dave...and no. Even Dave didn't bask in pride for his poor hygiene. "That's...Punchy, that's not something to be proud of. How about you try shooting for every two days instead?" It's not her place to mother him, she knows that, but she can't help it.

She's felt lost in this place for so long, that it's small, but it gives her a sense of purpose, even if it's only for a moment or two.

Of course, that feeling's crushed, like a piece of tissue paper being wadded up in someone's hand the moment he says that name. It's not that she's forgotten her late husband, not in the slightest, but she's had to move on, to try not to focus on the fact that the two people she had built her life around before she was brought here are very obviously absent, and that one of them had been yanked out of her life in a horrifically violent manner.

"He's gone, I don't see what there is to talk about." It's not quite a lie.There's a lot that she needs to talk about concerning Alex. Like the fact that there's part of her that feels painfully guilty about trying to move on. Or the fact that, if given the chance, she'd leave James for Alex in a heartbeat. Or that she's fairly certain that, if she found out who was responsible for Alex's death, she would try to find a way to bring them to justice.

He almost sighs in relief, because yes, he can do that. He's not going to tell her that he needed her to say it, to give him some sort of command, to remember to do it - that now her voice will ring in his head every two days and he'll slavishly obey - but hygiene will be that much easier for now. Maybe for the rest of his life. He doesn't know. He isn't thinking ahead that far.

It's the only relief he gets, because that look on Clara's face makes his whole heart feel like a fist tightening in his chest. He takes his seat and looks at her straight in the eyes, because honestly is how he does these things. Not for him or his soul, but because she deserves to know.

"I got to talk to you about him because I'm the one who put homie in the ground."

[Closed] Faster, faster, you won't go far

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