Looking for Love [OPEN]

[shambler]

Who| R [OPEN]
What| R takes it upon himself to ask for dating advice from whoever he bumps into (sometimes literally). This can be from advice to how to be the most romantic Romeo ever to the downright awful. To make intros easier, we can handwave R introducing himself and assume he’s already corraled them into this if you like.
Where|| Around the Training Center, the Tribute Tower, and the Speakeasy. Possibly the park.
When| | Before the Victor Crowning
Warnings/Notes|| Nothing so far.

R’s on a mission to acquire intel for How to Date; Revised for Zombies.

Oh, and for scrawny little guys like Howard. Although if you asked him, personally R believes Howard’s already got one step in the door just because he’s got a working heart. Don’t tell Howard he thought that.

The point is R’s motivated. It’s almost unicorn rare to know what he wants and how to get it. Motivation doesn’t come easy to zombies, R feeling the strain raking its claws across his brain folds as he takes his first stumbling step into today. His Escort turns to stare while she primps her hair, surprised that he’s going out on his own instead of having to be herded. He even remembers to groan something about “…prac-tice…for…Games”, just like the Helmsman coached him to, and R almost thinks that’s a mistake when his Escort’s face lights up. He made her day. She almost looks like she wants to drop everything, come along as if she knows how to tie nooses any better than he does. Luckily she settles for waving him good luck, so pleased she’d radiate sunshine if she could.

He lurches off before she changes her mind.

R’s mission is a multi-stage attack:

1). Find someone, anyone with a pulse.
2). Grill them on romance.
3). Hoard the advice.
4). …He’s still working on the next step. R’s lucky he got this far, to be totally honest.

For now R roams, a tall swaying zombie with a muzzle and a bad habit bumping his way into friends and strangers and wrangling them into his quest.

Comments

[akingalways]

Well, R. Step 1 is right within reach, and its in the form of this tall drink of man. No, not just a drink of man. A gallon of kingly man. At least, he'd like to think that, even fresh from...er. Discussing things his...er. Generous Sponsor friend. Yes.

If he says it like that, its not as damning, right?

In any case, there he was, in the Speakeasy, drinking his insanely expensive coffee, signing autographs for the females, and generally being aloof towards the wait staff. Because Kings were always calm, aloof, clear-headed, confident...

[shambler]

It doesn't take long for the buzzkill to enter the room and pick his first unlucky helper: it's the stench of too much perfume hat hits the girls first, first one and then the others sniffing and starting to make faces at each other. Even getting an autograph from Kings wasn't enough to make them stick around. By the time R starts lumbering toward Kings, the last of his fangirls is booking it for the hills.

"Good...with....lad-ies?" R asks, oblivious. "Tips...?"

He's a regular at the Speakeasy only because it's he can find Howard and Wyatt here, plus the owner likes to get rid of less-than-prime cuts of raw meat to him and let R teeth in the corner. Now R stands there, muzzled and swaying and peering at Kings.

[savedbyasong]

Shion glanced up as well as R passed through, he currently was sat in a sofa, as if he was wishing it would swallow him up.

As he was, because he was once again in the middle of a lecture from their escort about how he really should cover up that horrible scarring and make up tips for doing so and how they should talk to a stylist about covering it more permanently.

He was constantly caught between horror that soon he would be thrown into a situation where he would be forced to kill others, and horrific embarrassment at his stylists and escorts attempts to turn him into what they wanted.

When he saw R he made please help me eyes at him. "Can I go too? We were practicing together." A complete lie but Rat's lessons had to come in handy for something.

[shambler]

R almost didn't catch that the meaning behind that look and this was one of the few times he was glad he had a reputation for being slow at cranking out a sentence. Their Escort wouldn't think twice if R took forever to get a sentence out, nevermind trying to copy Shion's white lie.

"...He's...right," R said with a groan, coming over to lurch to a stop. It seemed to work. The Escort gave a delighted squeak, hand covering her mouth delicately, and then she smiled, revealing perfect - too perfect - teeth.

"Of course, honey. We can talk about it when you get back, Shion," she added. With that said, she swept off with the stylist team in tow, leaving Shion and R together.

[xanthous]

The Training Center has seen a lot of the Psiioniic, lately. He's determined to not die so pathetically in the next game, and that's going to require a lot of training. He's still horribly emaciated and weak and, well, pathetic, but he's slowly working on getting to a point where just walking won't wind him.

It's slow going.

It's probably unfortunate that he's from an alien culture with multiple kinds of romance, and that he doesn't even really have experience with it at all. But R is an alright guy, if a bit smelly, so he can take a break from his stretches to offer a hand. (And, really, any excuse to not do all of this working out would be welcome.)

[shambler]

R wishes he could offer tips, but he can barely tie a simple knot - stuff like "endurance training" and "cardio" means nothing to him. Besides, he thinks he's onto something better than combat training. Helmsman helped him out with amazing advice before. R's ready to go two for two - if he's counted right, sometimes it's iffy - and come back shuffling for more if the troll's in a sharing and caring mood.

Judging by how beat he looks, R hopes now's a good time to interrupt.

"Good...day for...talking?" R asks, standing a little too close and smelling a little too strongly of his Escort's new favorite perfume. It's enough to knock a grown man on his butt, R even starting to get offended. The plus side is he can't get distracted by that weird scent coming off from the Helmsman: every time he inhales when he's close enough, his hunger has no idea what to make of it. The troll comes out as a bunch of question marks.

[themediator]

Suze hadn't seen R since they had parted ways in the arena, and after her run is with Karis, she was partially relieved that she hadn't. Frankly, the idea of comparing one zombie to another still seemed completely out of the realm of possible, and yet there she was doing just that. R had been nice. If anything he was more like a lost spirit than a blood-thirsty monster. Karis had been...well, Suze hadn't survived the arena after meeting her. She left it at that.

So when she saw R roaming down the hall, she almost turned and left in the other direction. But that wasn't fair, and she knew it. It just took an awful lot of convincing on her part to stay were she was and greet him.

"R." She waved. "...Hey."

[shambler]

The zombie’s head came up from where he’d been looking at the floor, staring at Suze. For a long moment it seemed as if he might have forgotten her face, had it blur away in that Dead fog that pressed across his brain. Then he stood up straighter – slightly straighter – and looked her right in the eyes.

“Hi…Suze,” R waved back, his hand giving a limp flop. “Ask…for more…help?”

He remembered her trying to help him back in the Arena, telling him about what she did for a living and maybe that made her even more qualified than Must Have a Pulse. R decided she was definitely Advice Material. The zombie shuffled at her with more purpose than before, his gait no longer listing because he had two feet again. He tried to work up a smile behind his muzzle, happy to see Suze. She was one of the good Living if you asked him.

Because she knows ALL about love.

[revvinguptheharley]

"Oh...it's you."

Harley remembered zombie boy from when he took a bite out of her, and to be honest she had half a mind to knock his block off.

She was in the training hall balancing on a yoga ball on one foot almost casually.

"If you're coming back for another taste tough! You may be pale enough but you're not my type Salomon Grundy."

Re: Because she knows ALL about love.

[shambler]

Yeah, it's him. Awkward. Epically awkward, even. Let's go with that.

"Won't...bite," R said, stumbling over his words watching this Tribute's balancing act. There were some stuff that even a zombie thinks looks unnatural. "Came for...ad...vice? Please," he added. Be polite and approachable.

TRAINING CENTER

[whosalicewhite]

In what could be the worst possible advice-giver, Parker's wandering about, looking for cameras and other surveillance.

The only way to do that is be on the ceiling. Look up, R.

Re: TRAINING CENTER

[shambler]

It takes awhile for him to look up, the zombie gaping up at Alice. What's with her and high places?

"You...busy?"

[tis_allgood]

Bert was too restless to train, and not having much better luck occupying his wandering mind in the lounge. Between watching footage of the last arena and snippets of information on other tributes he was starting to feel far too immersed in the Capitol. Which was why he was more than happy to stop and talk to someone he knew and liked like R. It would be a good distraction for both of them.

"Arre! Have you mastered the hat trick yet? I know you've been practicing."

[shambler]

R turned toward Bert's voice, concerned here that he'll pull out more magic tricks and he'll forget why he came out here looking for the human. The zombie shakes his head at the question as he slows his shuffling and starts to u-turn back toward Bert. It's about as fun as watching paint dry, long enough for his Escort's perfume to start wafting over in waves.

"Still...no good. On...hold," R takes so long getting his words out and putting one foot in front of the other that he's almost done speaking by the time he rolls up to Bert. Bert looks good, as usual. (R tries to make sure there's no more hats he'll surprise him with; can't be too careful around this guy). "Could I...ask for...advice?"

[amourtician]

Jay is sitting at the bar in the Training Centre, sipping black coffee and holding a wet washcloth to his forehead. He can't tell if he's having a hangover or a migraine and he's a little too embarrassed to ask his Escort or Mentors for help, especially if it is, indeed, a result of his drinking. He's been trying to keep that as under wraps as possible.

He's currently staring at R, trying to figure out if he's sick, drunk or just weird.

[shambler]

R stares back at Jay, focusing on those weird little spots below his eyes, trying to work out his first question and hope he can get it in five syllables or less. One way or another he'll figure out this whole love thing and he'll ask Julie out on a proper date. It's uh, it's just a matter of learning the Do's and Don't's. Maybe he should've brought a list and shoved it at his new helper.

"How...do you...date? Love?" R groans it out. Is Jay even in a mood to play Twenty Questions with a zombie?

because ballet-fu sickle fighting is one of my favorite headcanons

[sleeplessinalternia]

Karkat is in one of the sub-levels, training with the sickles. It almost looks like he's dancing.

He stops, however, when he notices R. "You want something?"

[shambler]

R's been there long enough to get in some creepy staring, fascinated because he's never seen anyone move like that. Sure, he's seen Julie dance but that's different - it's not like watching this troll move, flowing with the sickles like they're not even weapons. The zombie's forgotten why he's there, up until Karkat stops and oh, yeah. His mission.

"Look...ing for...help. Dating...advice, pu....please?" R comes forward, one shoulder dipping down as he lurches toward Karkat, that cloud of Tide's Sigh perfume following him.

[undercoverprincess]

She's seen a lot of people go in and out of the training center. In and out and around, all over the place. People on the ceiling... this place was pretty nuts. But it was the people more then the architecture that was catching her eyes today. Kids, regular people that looked like, well, people (the way she described it in her mind), people who she had no idea why they were grey, and now this guy.

Was he dead? Could she be rude and ask him if he was dead? Because the smell was what got her before he did, and that was just a ton of perfume. Someone had tried to soak this guy in a tub of it, evidently.

"Hey, hon, you need to get someone to talk to about your condition. I don't think that much perfume is healthy for anyone."

[shambler]

The moment R hears that "hon", he gets nervous. Really nervous. For a second he thought his Escort was on to him, up until he turns and rattles out a relieved sigh from his dead lungs. Oh thank God. Not her. Someone else. Living, human, long blonde hair.

"Es...cort's....orders," R says and shrugs and decides since this girl's here, she's fair game for his Mission. "You have...more advice?"

Sucks for the both of them, but R's convinced the perfume is here to stay. He can't shuffle away fast enough to dodge most of the "safety spritzs" of Tide's Sigh and his Escort has an eerie way of finding him in the end. It's a big city. You think one corpse would be hard to find.

[shinyisfalse]

Peeta wasn't wandering around this time. This felt a little like a day of or something, where he wasn't needed at any functions, where he could be alone. Sort of alone. They'd never let him be really alone, but there must be someone around that was making sure all of the fans weren't crowding him. He had been tempted to go on the roof, but there were some things in the lobby that he wanted to check out and draw.

So he had his sketch pad open, and a couple of charcoal pencils, and he was perfectly content. And when his friend R was in view, Peeta looked up.

"Hey, R! Where are you going?"

[shambler]

The zombie turned at the voice, head swiveling around on a stiff neck riddled with black veins. "Pee-ta!"

Just the guy he wanted to bump into. Probably saved him hours or days shuffling around looking for him. R came up to Peeta, his head craning down to look at the drawings. They were so distracting that he had to remember there was another reason he was here and it wasn't to ogle Peeta's art.

"Looking for...help. Ro...mance. Girls," R grunted out.

Despite his Mission, R kept looking back at Peeta's sketch pad, openly staring.

[vissernone]

"R." Eva smiles when she sees him. She's pretending to be civilized again, or so she tells herself. She's decided on lunch in the park, a cup of coffee from a nearby vendor and a small basket of yogurt and pastry. It's downright pedestrian by Capitol standards, but it still cost enough to keep a family in District 12 afloat for a good few months.

(To say nothing of her plain navy gown, adorned only by a pattern that looks like the gutted spines of mackerels.)

She gestures for him to sit with her. She knows he's good at lurching and slouching and slumping, but she isn't sure if it's from chronic tiredness or muscular atrophy. Unlike many of the other people who've played the Games, she doesn't know what it's like to be dead.

"Your Escort's put you back on a diet, I see."

[shambler]

R maneuvers himself down, his knees creaking. They get weird every now and then. Sometimes they feel so brittle R's convinced it's only a matter of time before he snaps a leg off and then he's stuck dragging himself and starving - maybe stuck at the airport waiting for the hunting parties to drop by with long-dead left-overs. It's not much of a way to live.

And...whew, today isn't that day. He sits down without losing either leg, R looking dimly relieved. Those gray eyes of his fix on Eva and her picnic and it's almost like something he might've seen in the posters and faded magazines. Even the dress she's in isn't like some of the usual Capitol eye-sores. It's not pinging him like that number she was in earlier, the fake blood-splash one that fooled him from a distance.

"Helps..urges," R ducks his head, in a hurry to avoid that subject. "Let's...talk something...else. Need...romantic...ad-advi..."

The zombie pauses, frustrated. He'd been on such a roll, too!

[whoseesbynight]

At this point, Nepeta is still in the 'find out everything about the place' stage of having arrived in a new world. She knows where the training center is, of course, since it had been pretty much implied that it would be her home away from home - a not entirely inaccurate assumption - but that's only part of the places she can get to. Besides, she has yet to meant anyone who is interested in training literally all the time, and so she's decided that she might as well give in to curiosity.

At the moment, she's only really exploring the Tribute lodgings, but there's rather a lot of it to explore, and she figures it's probably in her best interest to know it well enough that she's not in any danger of getting lost. By luck or convenience, her path happens to neatly cross R's and although he just about the strangest human she's seen so far, she's not an expert on humans. Maybe what he's wearing is customary, where he's from.

[shambler]

Lucky Nepeta. R's between interviewees and always ready to bump into some fresh meat; she can catch the zombie shuffling around with his head listing to one side as he tries to keep all that great advice he's got so far from leaking out into that gray fog. It's hard to hold onto things, usually. Today's just one of those good days where he's got, like, probably 70% of it. ...Okay, make that 60%. Still pretty damn good, in his own opinion.

R's sure he can take on a little bit more advice.

He sees that corpse gray from a distance, then the horns, and he latches onto the new troll as soon as he gets close enough to start groaning what he wants to steal her for. By now R's learned that trolls equal amazing, reliable advice and once he realizes this one's female, he's really in luck. R can hardly believe it. A pulse, a troll and female. That's like winning the lottery!

"I..." R wheezes, now that he's very awkwardly, very, very slowly found Nepeta a nice chair (he even remembered to pull it out for her and pat the overstuffed cushion) and a coffee probably cost an arm and a leg sits steaming on the table. "Need...your...help. Troll...advice? Love," he adds and grunts to show he means business here.