thecapitol | some friendly advice

Who: Donatello & Shepard
What: Some Mentor/Tribute Bonding Time
Where: The District 9 Suite
When: Backdating to a few days before the opening of Arena 02

Its been the best night of sleep she's had in what feels like years, but that doesn't make her any less of a grouch.

Shepard pads into the common room of the suites assigned to 'District 9,' barefooted and in little more than a tank top and a pair of shorts, because everything else in her goddamn room is frilly or shiny or ridiculous and she's not putting any of that crap on to go gorge herself on waffles and coffee and do her best not to punch anyone.

At least here, people tend to leave her alone for the most part. There are the others of course. The 'mentors' who'd been responsible for sending her little gifts wrapped up in silver parachutes, and a small piece of her can't be too angry with them for feeding her and sending her medicine when she'd been in agony. That still doesn't mean she likes them much.

The others though? She doesn't have a damn clue what to think about them. The tiny little white haird girl who didn't even make it a full day in the last Arena. And now... this guy. They tell her they're District 9's new tributes for the next round. The president himself told her she was supposed to help them... encourage them to fight and win.

She really just wants to tell them to run while they still can.

But she knows they can't. And that is part of what has her in such a foul mood.

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"No, I can get it myself, you just... keep doing your thing," she insists, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth despite herself. She doesn't have the slightest clue as to what kopi luwak is, because she's used to military rationed coffee that's usually so horrible it's probably got more in common with tar than it does anything else.

She pours herself a cup and slides into a chair nearby and watches him work for a moment.

Shepard all but ignores his comment about newness. She knows. It's a shame, really. She doesn't even know him and already wishes that he weren't here at all.

"Whatcha workin on?" she wonders, genuinely curious. She's never been a tinkerer herself so much as she was simply fond of gadgets. Needed to know how they worked to maximize efficiency (or how to sabotage), so it was a little bit endearing to see this stranger putting pieces back together.

He's right about the coffee though. It's amazing.

"Oh, I'm taking a look at the level of technology this place has," Don replies as he continues to look at the various components of the remote. "Give myself an idea of what to expect. This...is surprisingly advanced, but not so much that its too difficult to decipher. Its nowhere as complicated as alien tech..."

"No, they may be backwards as all hell in some regards around here, but their tech isn't half bad. Surprisingly compact and light without implementing the use of element zero," she muses more to herself than anything and leans in a bit over the table.

Her eyes shift from the gutted remote to his face a few times before she speaks again. "You must be Donatello. They didn't tell me you were a tech expert. Well... they didn't tell me a goddamn thing, really, but maybe it's better they don't know it all. Have you found anything useful?"

"Not entirely..though the idea of using holograms for television on windows certainly has piqued my interest..." At this, Don stroked his chin. "Though on the other hand, I've personally never heard of element zero..."

After a moment, he put down the pieces he was tinkering with.

"Anyhow, sorry for being rude." He held his hand out. "But I am Donatello, or just Don. I'm guessing you're my mentor?..."

She leans across the table enough to take his hand and shake it; firm and friendly. "Shepard," she introduces herself, just her surname yes, but that's what everyone calls her. No one's called her Alison in... God, she can't even remember. Maybe her mom when they'd talked last? And that had been almost three years ago. "And that's what they tell me. Yes. I'm sorry to say that it's not anything I've had the chance to put on my resume yet."

Might as well be honest with the guy after all.

She didn't have a damn clue what being a mentor even meant, past giving some advice to kids who were probably about to die.

"Its ok." Don bit his lip as he got into the less savory parts of the conversation. "So...these games. What can you tell me about them?"

"A regular barrel of laughs," she says darkly, then leans back into her chair and takes another sip of her coffee. The smirk on her face makes it pretty clear she doesn't mean that at all.

"Survivable though. But maybe not... in ways you can imagine. What would you like to know?"

"Well...as much as I can, I guess." Don looks down as he rubs his chin. "How many contestants are there? What exactly does this arena entail? Are there things that can be done to better someone's chances of survival?..."

She sips at her coffee again, deciding just how she wants to answer, and then, she sets down her mug and folds her arms on top of the table before her, "From what they have told me, they are all different; the Arenas. Mine was cold and wet; waterfalls and lakes and an unstable-as-hell mountainside. There were caves and trees for shelter. Food was... hit or miss. Berries and plants could either keep your belly full, or poison you. Wildlife was mostly edible, I think. I had a couple rabbits. We started out with 24 of us. A... a lot die on the first day. Nerves are high, and there's a bright shiny metal cornucopia of gifts right at the start; a literal cornucopia. Weapons and blankets and food and everything you know your ass is going to want to have in your possession after you realize the clothing they give you doesn't do shit against the wind, and you can't see a difference in the berries they told you about."

She sighs. "I ran straight for it. Thought I could take on anyone who got in my way... and did, when they did. They told me I shouldn't waste my energy on it. That it was a trap. But I didn't really give a shit what they told me. Wouldn't blame you if you thought the same about what I have to say one it. But... well, it worked for me. I say, take your chances if you think you can handle it. An 11? I don't think any of us in my Arena were 11's."

"Aside from that? Sponsors came in when I was... interesting. They like confrontation. Interaction. Not all of it has to be bad. They want you to keep on top of each other. The moment you start drifting apart, they'll do almost anything to push you back together. Landslides seemed to be their weapon of choice against us in my case. Don't know what it will be for you....but. Don't get too friendly either."

some friendly advice

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