(closed)

[splendid_roman]

Who| Ian Chesterton and Tim Drake
What| A chance meeting and an opportunity to apologise
Where| Central commons
When| After arena 6
Warnings/Notes| Might be discussions of arena 6 events

After doing his best to avoid the reporters, Ian had found himself scheduled for an interview. He would have just avoided it by staying as far away from the training centre as he could, but he was being watched to make sure he stayed. But a bit of dutch courage wouldn't go amiss and maybe if he messed up this interview he wouldn't be forced to endure another.

He'd had a couple of drinks when he spotted the one person he simultaneously wanted and didn't want to see. Maybe he could get this over and done with. He downed his drink and went over to the person he'd killed whose name he didn't even know.

"I'm sorry for killing you."

Comments

[splendid_roman]

"I see." He was realising, now he was speaking to the other man and not fighting him, that he wasn't a man at all, and younger than Ian had first thought. He was just a child, which made Ian feel even more guilty.

"I'm glad," he said, after an awkward pause on Ian's part. "It's good to be able to defend yourself out there in the arena." Against people like me, he didn't say.

[the_hit_list]

"Could you not patronize me, please?" Tim kept an eye on a particular set of doors - the ones he saw the press use often. He doesn't know how this meeting would be spun - two men who had taken each other out with a modicum of vehemence chatting in the lounge. This wasn't the Olympics, after all. There was no spirit of international unity to adhere to, and the Games certainly weren't there to glorify camaraderie and fair play.

"I didn't do a very good job of defending myself, and neither did you," Tim pointed out needlessly, as if it could have somehow escaped the guy's memory. "I don't know what you want from me here."

Because if it's total absolution, Tim hasn't found it for himself yet.

[splendid_roman]

He could have fought better. He had been fought better. Being hungry and not thinking straight were just excuses. In another time, another place, Ian would have welcomed him as an opponent - if it was with weapons that bruised, not cut. He hadn't meant his compliment to be patronising, but it was given in the wrong circumstances.

"I..." he began, but didn't have a good answer. He wanted to feel less guilty, but there wasn't a response the other man - boy - could give that would do that.

"I don't want anything from you," he said in the end. "I just wanted to be sure you were still in one piece."

[the_hit_list]

"We're in one piece," Tim confirmed. He sat down on a nearby armchair, and, while he didn't ask Ian to join him, his body language was open as he watched the man expectantly.

He didn't know what to say or why he was bothering to continue this conversation, except that, if he could make himself be seen as a person, maybe he'd have one less person to worry about in the next arena. Unlikely though, because the past was the past, and complete trust was close to impossible. He still wanted to know more. "Where did you learn how to use a sword? You never said."

[splendid_roman]

Ian was thinking of going because it wasn't going well and there wasn't a great deal more to say, but the young man had other ideas and Ian was all for him not seeing Ian as an enemy.

So he sat. "I did some fencing at school. The rest I've just picked up really."

[the_hit_list]

He pulled his legs up onto the chair to sit Indian-style. Fencing at school. That fit with the accent and all the known stereotypes about non-state British schools. It certainly worked out for the Capitol. How did they seem to find so many people who had traits that worked for the Arena? Ian could fence. Rapunzel could heal. Neither of them appeared to be likely gladiators, and both lasted far into the competition. How did the Gamemakers know?

That was going to bother him for awhile. "Since you got here? This was my first Arena. I don't really know how long everyone else has been here."

[splendid_roman]

He shook his head. "This was my first arena too. But I've been travelling for a while and not everyone was pleased to see us." Which was the best way he could think of putting it really. It wasn't as if anyone was likely to believe the truth.

[the_hit_list]

"Not everyone was pleased to see you," Tim repeated thoughtfully, cocking an eyebrow at this. It sounded like something he'd say about his nightlife back home and that made him consider the man again. There wasn't really much that he knew about him, aside from being capable in a fight. Tim could make reasonable assumptions that he was resourceful and intelligent, based on what he'd seen in the Arena, but that was the full extent of it.

There were a lot of reasons why someone could make a statement like that. The military, for example. It wasn't fair to treat everyone like they were a player in Gotham's crime war, but he couldn't stop himself from trying to label everyone as a hero or villain. He can't ask what he needed to know - why Ian killed him, if he was so sorry for it - because they're in public. He's been pretending to like the Hunger Games, and that meant that he should know the answer: Ian killed Tim to win.

He wasn't sure if that was the case. "If you keep doing so well in the Arena, no one's going to be happy to see you here either."

[splendid_roman]

"I suppose not." He wasn't sure he liked that. He wasn't desperate to be liked, but he wasn't used to being universally disliked either. And yet of course if he killed people they'd dislike him. He disliked that part of him. "I don't intend to do so well in the future."