( open )

[cutshort]

Who| Hyperion | cutshort and YOU!
What| Someone's bored and not allowed to express his boredom through violence. What's the next best thing?
Where| Around the Capitol! You pick a place, he'll most likely show up.
When| Throughout the week.
Warnings/Notes| ... Hyperion will be Hyperion. And nobody likes Hyperion.


The Arena has been over for more than enough time to recuperate from his death, think things through, reassess what he wants to do. He's aware of the rules, aware of the system that controls him, even when no one is looking anymore, and he's been behaving.

He felt rejuvenated, when they resuscitated him. No longer starving, no longer bleeding, now longer panting for every breath of air like it would be his last. They got rid of his injuries, but the virus remains in his brain, still itching for more, making him dig his nails into the pads of his fingers and palms as he looks around in silence, observing. His gaze is unwavering - he doesn't care who he's looking at or what they're doing - an invasion of privacy even when he stands afar.

Is this all there is?

Comments

[cutshort]

There's a pause. Hyperion glances around them, apparently noncommittal.

"Sure."

[celebrityskinned]

She grins. She has dimples that could sell babyfood. "Good. I'll see you at the victory table, hotshot."

[cutshort]

Perhaps. He keeps the skepticism to himself, for once.

"I didn't get your name."

[celebrityskinned]

"Venus. I don't need yours. It seems you've already made one for yourself."

She doesn't offer to shake hands, just pushes her sunglasses back to the bridge of her nose and returns her attention to the television.