I've wept for those who suffer long...

[the_marshal]

WHO| Wyatt and OTA
WHAT| Somebody needs a time-out.
WHERE| The Speakeasy
WHEN| A while after cleaning Aunamee's clock.
WARNINGS/NOTES| On top of the arena guilt he'd already been dragging around, he's now found out one of his friends is dead-dead, and tried to for realz kill man with his bare hands. Just... keep that in mind.



He'd tried to kill a man. Had wanted to.

He hadn't been aware of it at the time, the decision too quick, too hazy in the fog of red, but now, in the clarity of the aftermath, as the bitter anger burned away and left him once again to his own thoughts, that was the truth of it.

Had the peacekeepers not been there... he would have beat that man to death. Easily.

Far too easily.

But then... what was one more charge on his ever growing list of sins?

He sat with his back to the room, his left hand wrapped around a half-empty tumblr, the other hand covered in a blood-spotted napkin. He wasn't sure he even recognized the face anymore, that tired, worn thing, that stared back at him from the mirror across the bartop.

Comments

[gluteus]

Maximus had expected - half hoped, half dreaded - that he wouldn't see Wyatt again. When he had returned to his suite to find Javert's room barren and empty - to find Morrigan vanished in the same manner - it made a grim sort of sense that Wyatt would also disappear. He'd already hardened his heart to it, after Wyatt's death was broadcast (he couldn't help glancing at the television when he saw friendly faces) and the man didn't appear. Wondered, vaguely, if that was simply the nature of this hellish place. Allow you to care about people again, however briefly, and then unceremoniously rip them from you.

He was almost relieved when his Escort burst into his room with gossip that Wyatt had punched a fellow tribute, didn't you hear?? Out of nowhere!!

Maximus frowned as he listened, mostly tuning out the prattling continued. He knew where he could find him.

Silently, sullenly, he made his way to the Speakeasy. He didn't trust the Capitol at all, wondered what sort of underhanded punishments they had for those that broke the rules - and worried.

He found Wyatt where he expected to find him, and didn't speak, or ask permission, before he sat down.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

It isn't like last time. Howard isn't slinking and scared and keeping to himself. He isn't some small, slipping shadow in the street, darting from alley to alley, sleeping in crannies outside because he can't feel safe in his bedroom. He isn't a ghost, animated by the bone and muscle the Capitol props up.

In fact, he looks almost normal this time, at least as much as he can after a revival from the Arena. Every time he comes back he's a skeleton, starved and starving, and he still can't really sleep, but there's something alive in him. Something that says he's present, instead of still on the ice being cut up.

In a way, he wishes that Wyatt hadn't punched Aunamee, that he hadn't heard about it. That he could block Aunamee and the rest of the crazies from his mind entirely.

But what's done is done, and what it tells him is that he should find Wyatt. He slips into the bar, purposefully dragging his heels so that Wyatt can hear him. He knows the bow of someone who's in their cups, and it worries him.

When he's about two feet behind him, he speaks up.

"I might order something. I could totally pass for twenty-one."

[tis_allgood]

It was less the look on his face than the look of the man himself that drew Cuthbert's interest. He tried to meet the strangers eyes in the mirror before approaching, a good Gunslinger didn't sneak up on a potential ally unannounced, not if he wished to live through the meeting.

His stylist sent him out in what might be considered a 'cowboy tuxedo' which includes a hat that he tipped in Wyatt's direction in the mirror as a sign of greeting.

"Hile, stranger. You look in need of company."

[futilecycle]

Unable to handle the guilt of losing Kyle, Sigma decided to deal with his emotions in the same way he did the night before his first Arena: he'd drink them down for now. He also wanted the cash he'd won from killing Donatello out of his pocket as quickly as possible and drinking it away seemed to answer both issues.

Sigma entered cautiously as though lost, still feeling out of place in public bars. The lounge he kept well-stocked at home was permanently empty of company, and so it felt unnatural to find so many others inside the Speakeasy. Sigma wandered around until he found a place to sit where he wouldn't have to explain himself to a complete stranger: he took his place next to a man he identified as a district mate. Though they had never been formally introduced, they'd been civil to eachother in passing. This was enough for Sigma to decide that if there were a member of his district (besides the young one) that he wanted to win, it would be him.

After ordering for himself, Sigma turned to the other man. "Let me know when you need a refill," he sighed.

[mediumdrip]

Blaine didn't really like to come to bars alone, but he needed a break from the Tower for now. When he saw Wyatt he watched the man for a moment, making sure that he was alone and by going up to him he wouldn't be interrupting something.

"Hey," he said carefully when he came around Wyatt. "Welcome back."

[setfires]

Cinna slid into a seat near Wyatt and looked over at him.

"Let me buy you a drink," he offered, watching the Tribute curiously.

He was pretty much never going to forget the way that Wyatt ensured that Momoko won the Arena before this one.