I'm Down Shouting Names at the Flickering Screen [Open]

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

WHO| Howard and anyone!
WHAT| Howard decides to get serious about the Games.
WHERE| Tribute Lounge
WHEN| Post-Arena
WARNINGS| Swearing.

There's been enough hiding. There's been enough moping. Howard knows that this feeling of motivation is fleeting, and that just means he has to cling to his productivity for as long as he can before it slips back into despair. Before he thinks about how he's going to die again. Before he wonders where Eponine is. Before he thinks about how she left him like his parents did. Before he cries.

So instead of feeling that, he's going to feel something else. He's going to feel entertained. And possibly, he'll learn something along the way; it's about time he forces himself to study. About time he moves past the squeamish feelings of seeing people he knows bleed and scream on the screen and actually starts taking notes on who to ally with and who to stab in the back, or, potentially, in the front.

He sits in a Tribute lounge with snacks, feet propped up on a glass coffee table, starving body covered in comfy clothes his stylists won't let him wear outside, a fluffy blue bathrobe and canvas cargo pants. His hand periodically moves from its path between bowl of snacks and his mouth to grab a cup of melted butter.

He doesn't care how tacky or unhealthy is it. He covers that bowl of popcorn in butter and plops down on the couch, munching away at it as he watches Wesker and Maximus attack each other.

Comments

[undercoverprincess]

They needed new TV shows. It was like back home, constant reality TV show after reality TV show. Whatever happened to shows with some kind of storyline, where things were plotted out for each episode, and then concluded at the very end. Watching the games was like watching reality TV constantly. Just with more blood.

But Cindy didn't care too much about watching it, so long as she could lounge in some comfortable clothes here. That was the best part of the lounge. Apparently no one cared, so long as you didn't start attacking people. She loved wearing some shorts and a T-shirt, and best of all: no shoes. Had to love that.

"Ooh, popcorn," Cindy said, leaning onto the back of the couch with her elbows on the back, her head resting in her hands. "This looks like fun. Just like going to the movies, except without sticky floors and not enough arms on the chairs."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Please remember to turn off your cellphone. In case of emergency, look for the glowing EXIT signs at the front and back of the theater." He looks up to see a girl he doesn't know. She looks a little like Julie, in that she has long flat blonde hair and a pretty face, and that she doesn't look horrified by the nature of their position here. That, and she's wearing practical clothing. The similarities seem to end there.

"I already know how this season ends," he says with a shrug, turning back to the TV. "Spoilers, Maximus dies."

[undercoverprincess]

Cindy laughed. "What I wouldn't kill to turn off my cellphone. Hell, having my cellphone would be nice, but it wouldn't work here." She glanced down at him, waiting till he's looking back at the TV before she goes and steals some popcorn.

"Aw man, Maximus dies? I was really rooting for him! He's kind of cute."

this is totally a being serious about the games tag

[knifewithnoname]

Pruna had been training all morning and she was proud of herself, having finally learned how to build and light an outside fire properly. It had been a problem in the last arena; she was a city child and campfires were a mystery to her. Had been a mystery, not anymore.

So she was feeling rather pleased with herself and was planning to go and get ice cream to celebrate, she went to the lounge first to see if she could find Sandy and drag the other girl with her. When she saw the boy instead, the one who she had met on her first day, and who had made traps in the mountain.

He had a name, she thought for a moment before remembering. "Howard." She marched over to him. "Do you be knowing what ice cream do be being?"

Obviously the most important question.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Is it sick that Howard almost wants to give the girl a high-five? Here she is, the kid who killed Draco Malfoy, that stuck-up son of a bitch who hurt Eponine so badly. But Howard finds he can't really build up any strong emotion about Eponine anymore, at least not now, and so he only cracks a half-hearted smirk at Pruna.

"Hey, Moody. I know what ice cream is. I dare you to eat a whole scoop at once." He takes a handful of popcorn and swallows it mechanically.

[knifewithnoname]

She grinned, this was good news. "I bet I could be being!" She told him looking to see what he was watching.

Oh it was the man who had given her spear fighting tips, she liked him, and the man who won. "Do you be wanting to be fighting him?" She pointed at Maximus, Wesker had won so no longer was a threat. But she could understand why Howard would want to study Maximus, he was really strong.

[gruesome]

It was the smell of salt that drew him, but seeing what the boy was watching almost drove him away again. Some hovered in the doorway of the little lounge, leaning against the frame as he rubbed one forefoot against his other leg.

"Does the eating make it easier to watch?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard startles. Some of the popcorn in his hand tumbles down the front of his bathrobe. He takes a deep breath; the hypervigilance isn't from Some's strange form, but merely from how deeply he's been in his own head.

And, well, Some's strange form. For a second Howard wonders if the Capitol's let some muttations loose.

"Oh. Uh." He picks up some of the spilled popcorn. "It makes it feel more like a movie. So yeah."

[gruesome]

"My name is Some ovMennet, I belong to Eight. I'm sorry for startling you," he said, matter-of-fact as he came further into the room, around the end of the sofa. He stood there a moment, staring at the screen.

"Are you looking for anyone particularly?"

[the_marshal]

Wyatt preferred the Speakeasy by a rather large margin, but he also only had so much ill-gotten gain for the going on with as he was not about to get himself into hock with the Capitol - or at least, not any more than he already was. So, today, he'd belly-upped to the lounge bar instead. On the last stool in the row he sat, shoulder rubbing the wall, a deep-set scowl into his reflection warding off the worst of the press.

Silent, still but for the occasional lift and bend of his arm, he might have been a part of the decor... until a familiar face in the glass had him straightening.

Polishing off his drink, he nodded to the barkeep and set off after the fuzzy blue shape, watching it kick back in front of one of the infernal screens.

"Watchin' for somethin' in particular?" he asked after a moment, his brow crinkling, as he tried to avoid looking at the faces too closely. (The one was certainly Max,... was this how his friend had died? While he'd sat and done nothing?)

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard's been spending a lot of time around Wyatt lately, mostly just silently being in the same room while Wyatt gives his liver a pounding, but that's come to an end after the disastrous last date with Eponine two days ago. Howard's been keeping to himself, feeling less like a conscious person than some sort of depressed sleepwalker for whom gravity holds extra disdain.

"I'm studying." He stares at the screen with a sort of blank expression, eating popcorn piece by piece. After a moment, he holds the bowl out to Wyatt, in case he wants some.

[the_marshal]

"Studyin'."

An axe was gleaming, red washing across the screen, and he turned his eyes down into the bowl of fluffy popping corn, trying to ignore it. (He could do nothing about the sound. The pants and grunts, the sickly, wet squelching.)

"So that's where ya've been off to."

They may not have said much, those long hours together while Wyatt drank and Howard watched, but he'd grown accustomed to the boy's presence. Noticed the absence like a chill wind through an open window. He took a piece of popcorn idly, but it didn't make it to his mouth, rolling gently between his fingertips instead.

"I reckon it is time to start thinkin' about the next one, ain't it?"

He tried to avoid it himself, as if that would somehow keep it from coming, but that didn't mean he couldn't see the wisdom in it.

[battlesleep]

Thane has little interest in the film he sees as he passes - he has seen enough killing in his time to look at it without feeling, and also to simply not need it for the sake of learning to kill. Perhaps to learn the people, but that he would do in private.

So for the moment his attention is merely on Howard as he comes to a halt, glances at the screen only briefly and then maintains his gaze on the boy.

"Learning?" Quiet and calm.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard's muscles tense, but he doesn't look at Thane. He's managed to tame the startle response to a reasonable level over the last few people coming in. "I don't know."

It's an honest answer. He's not sure if he's gathering anything useful from the footage except that pretty much everyone in the Arena can and will defeat him in hand to hand combat.

"You want to sit down?" He glances at the other side of the couch.

[battlesleep]

He notes that tensing, makes sure to keep his hands to himself and spread open, no indication of weapons present as he takes the indicated seat, a fair spread of distance behind them and his back straight.

"Thank you. Your viewing material is not terribly pleasant."

[shambler]

[OOC: Going to post R here joining him with viewing things. Is it just this arena or past arenas?]

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

[Past arenas too!]

[alldeduction]

Sherlock didn't frequent the lounge. In fact, he didn't particularly frequent anywhere that would have a large and regular group of people that wouldn't only recognize him but would also annoy him. Unfortunately, sometimes it was unavoidable, and this was one of those times. His escort had driven home that perhaps he shouldn't spend so much time in John's suite, so he had agreed to meet him here, instead. (Though when I say 'agreed', what really happened was that Sherlock had simply declared that this was their new meeting space, and then simply expected John to show up when he needed him, regardless of whether or not he was actually informed.)

Of course he recognized Howard right away, even if he was back to his mostly emaciated state. He knew that John had seen more of him since the last arena, but otherwise Howard had fallen off his radar almost completely. So he basically ignored him as he walked in, found a seat, draped himself over it, and waited.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Maybe if Howard were in a better mood, or if he were a nicer person, or Sherlock were a different person, he would just ignore the company. He would sit there with his comfort food and his fluffy robe and the less-than-comfortable glow of the television and pretend he was alone, some timelines and universes away, watching the SyFy on a Saturday Night.

But Howard's not in a good mood, Sherlock's not a different person, and the Capitol can put Howard's body back together but haven't seen fit to fix the part of his brain that internally screams at him to be a pain in the ass. After a few moments he feels all too keenly that Sherlock's probably taking in every miserable detail, that Sherlock's probably already figured out that Eponine left him and that he's got an anxiety problem and that he's been sleeping in the streets the last few nights to avoid having to spend much time in his suite, and the silence of ignoring Sherlock just becomes too oppressive.

Howard throws a piece of popcorn at Sherlock. And then, a moment later, hops up off the couch to retrieve it off the floor and eat it, murmuring 'five second rule' under his breath.

[alldeduction]

Sherlock had, of course, taken in much about Howard as soon as he stepped in. But he'd also dismissed it almost immediately as being unimportant. The moment that a piece of popcorn hit him smack in his temple, however, everything snapped into sharp relief. He tensed, for a second immediately taken back into the arena, and it took him a full three seconds to relax before shooting Howard a glare, and watching as he picked up the popcorn.

[sleeplessinalternia]

Karkat's seen this kid before, around the Training Center. It takes a minute for him too register just who the kid is, but then he remembers where's he's seen him before: being measured by one of the District One stylist humans when Karkat had gone to return that stupid crown they'd tried to make him wear for going out shopping with Cuthbert. He must be in Karkat's District, which explained why it had taken a second to figure out where Karkat recognized him. He's not very familiar with any of his fellow Ones, mostly because he's only gone to the suite since the final cull to get clothing or talk to his escort human.

The screen is showing a different arena, one Karkat hasn't really seen before. Not the one he was just in and not the one from the 74th Hunger Games Highlight Recording either. This one looks a fuckload colder.

Intrigued in spite of himself, Karkat sits down on a nearby chair. After a moment he asks, "So where'd you get the popgrubs?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Popgrubs?" Howard pulls his bowl of popcorn closer to himself defensively. He knows who this guy is. He's seen footage of him sneaking up and garroting Gavroche.

It's not that Howard doesn't understand killing kids. To him, that's hardly different than killing anyone else. He just makes a mental note not to turn his back, and that's that.

"You're in my District."

[sleeplessinalternia]

"That stuff." Karkat gestures at the popcorn. "It looks and smells like popgrubs anyway." It probably isn't. It's probably some weird human equivalent made out of some kind of lesser mammal somehow instead of good honest grubs. "And yeah, I noticed." Fuck if he could remember the guy's name though.

[blondevigilante]

Oh, the best of everyone's kills is playing and Stephanie can't wait to pop a squat and watch. Except that watching people off each other is far from her favorite past time ever so she's happy to breeze past the room without even a hello for her fellow Tribute. Too bad that cool walk-out goes right out the window when she recognizes Howard. She and Tim had talked and despite the worries she could hear in between Tim's words she can't help but settle herself on the couch near Howard.

"Studying?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Trying. All I'm getting right now is realizing every Tribute over the age of ten in this competition could use me as a hockey puck." He pops a piece of corn in his mouth and looks over at her. He remembers her, remembers her kindness and also remembers how off-kilter it made him feel.

"Tim was hoping you'd win."