01 (mingling can't be avoided - open

[brentwood]

Who| The littlest Tim and whoever's around!
What| Arrival and curiosity.
Where| District 12 Suites, Central Commons.
When| The day of his arrival.
Warnings/Notes| Nope, none that I can think of!

It's one thing to be kidnapped-- another thing entirely to be told what he had. What an honor, what a privilege, isn't this exciting? And no, no it wasn't a bit. It had taken an immense effort to keep from decking anyone at all who was too peppy, too clean, too bubbly. Too helpful. Now herded into his suite (and whoa, not going to lie, it's a pretty sweet room), Tim finds himself pining for Alfred instead of these silent people who offer sweets and luxuries. Then he corrects himself- tells himself that even thinking such a thing might jinx this entire situation somehow and actually bring Alfred to this city. This world. Because there's no way an operation like this could go undetected by the heavy hitters back home.

There's a heavy crease in his brow, looking a little silly on a 15 year old boy. It's not until Tim steps into the bathroom (even that's way high class) that he spots himself on a mirror and notices he's downright scowling. He splashes water on his face. Tells himself to calm down, to do what he's been trained to do. Sleuth. As much as he'd like to hit something, there'd just be no point when he doesn't know how heavy the consequences will be. If everything's been running so smoothly for 70-something rounds of Death Match... it's for a reason.

Besides.

This might all be a bad dream.

He sits on the bed. Gets to work with familiarizing himself with the communication device he was so generously given. He'll bet anything in the world it's bugged.

(Floor 12)
Every adventure draws to an end, even one that had taken so little movement as his assessment of the communicator had. There's an unease with being cooped up in a strange room. A stirring that came from disorientation. Now, the sane thing would be to let the nerves settle before stepping out. He's sure he remembers how to access the concrete den he had been in before, but there's no need for that now. Turning the knob and opening the door to peek his head out, Tim makes sure to don the face of some lost kid rather than an angry one. He's even meticulously quiet about making sure the click of the closing door behind him doesn't sound louder than it needs to, and he cringes a little when he hears it anyway.

Not that he's playing a spy game with himself or anything but. But he's being obviously sneaky. He has to remind himself he's just a schoolboy, and as much as he has an urge to venture down the elevators, it's best to familiarize himself with the most immediate surroundings. It's just a very lavish hotel. That makes his skin crawl. Rounding the corners is particularly suspenseful.

(Central Commons)
Now, if the suites were eerie, the common room is just bizarre. There's the architecture and commodities just screaming for an atmosphere of relaxation. The televisions and lighting are spectacular. The chairs and couches look comfortable and inviting. The whole... mood of the place whispers playground, not slaughter. And Tim supposes that's what has him standing there, just freshly off the elevator, with a shiver running down his spine. Either he's being fantastically duped, or he really doesn't know what he's gotten himself into.

And that's terrifying all on its own.

So should he be expecting a bear to burst out of the elevator doors behind him? --Tim takes no time to step away. He even looks over his shoulder once or twice once he's moved himself more towards the center of the place without quite realizing it. Okay, Drake. Focus. It's time to make some friends. Step One: Find someone who doesn't look like they want to kill you. Should be easy, right?

Comments

commons

[wantsajetpack]

Pepper's seated in one of the lounge chairs, her back to the elevators. She's flipping through a magazine, laughing at some of the fashions, secretly praying the stylists don't dress her like that.

[brentwood]

He hadn't intended to stop mid-step and double take, really. Tim had been passing behind her chair, eyes up front for the most part, until he heard Pepper laugh. It's only natural that he turned his head to look at what. Looking at the magazine from behind the woman's head, Tim can catch a glimpse at what she's got her attention on. And sure, horrible fashion sense seemed to be popular among the freaks here, but Tim had just attributed that to them being... freaks. Not right in the head. To see there's magazines dedicated to the fashion meant it wasn't just a thing for this building, but.

He cranes his head a little to see better. He should have just kept walking after that, but that'd defeat the purpose of this experiment, so Tim chirps up. "What is that thing?"

[wantsajetpack]

She gave a small yelp having not realizing anyone was back there. "Uh... I think it's a dress, I'm still trying to figure out why he's wearing it. Still can't figure out which district, hoping not 6. I's look horrible in it."

[brentwood]

"Sorry," he offers up quickly. It hadn't been his intention to startle her. He's almost thinking she could be one of the people he's deemed citizens of this city-- but there's no neon green hair or ten inch nails. So he walks to stand at the side of the chair instead of behind it (because that's a little creepy when striking up conversation). He gives the picture one quick scan. He thinks he got the woman's district number. Did the numbers really even mean anything? Heck, why not just ask someone who's clearly been here longer.

"How can you tell the design is from Six?" Which isn't exactly the same question he'd had in mind, but it might be an important one to ask anyway. The fact that it's a man in that dress... eh. He spent weekends with Bart and the Kid. It wasn't a big deal.

District 12 suite

[inciting]

Leaving her own room much less stealthily, Katniss gave a start as she saw the strange boy standing there.

"You must be new."

Katniss hadn't checked the tablet Effie had insisted she check daily to keep up with all the various tasks of a mentor. She supposed this is what she got for not checking.

Then again, it didn't hurt to let him have a chance to introduce himself.

[brentwood]

Oops.

--well not really. This had kind of been the point of the afternoon. Tim gives a sort of apologetic look, but in truth? He doesn't even have to act like he's confused. For a building full of people who were brought here against their will with the sole purpose of killing each other, things were very calm. Too calm.

It only takes a second for Tim to bring a hand up to the back of his neck. "Yeah," he admits, every bit as sheepish as someone who, uh, just got caught snooping outside a girl's room, apparently. "I was just brought in today." He's not giving his name unless he has to, even if he suspects that a really useless thing to do.

[inciting]

"I'm Katniss, I'm one of your mentors. Sorry, we're suppose to review the new Tributes files but..." She mentally flicked through a few excuses, none sounding good. "I didn't yet."

"So, if there's anything you need to know, I can help."

It actually wasn't so bad, this part of the job. Specially since she was learning she enjoyed some of her tributes.

[brentwood]

"I want to know why everyone's so calm here."

No hesitation, his hand drops to his side and he's just there, standing still, waiting for an answer. He won't get one. A mentor, right. Like it's supposed to be so easy to just say I'm going to teach you how to kill people. Tim feels his stomach turn, and he squares his jaw to hide it. "Is there something I'm not being told?"

Apart from a lot.

commons

[blondevigilante]

She felt a bit lazy just sitting around watching horrible television, but there was only so long she could stand hanging around trainers who insisted she needed to learn more killing skills not mention the increasing requests for an autograph that the stupid interview had brought, so Stephanie was taking a break from training and the Capitol in general. The ting of the elevator arriving only caused her to glance over before looking back at the television.

"They've been showing reruns of that interview including follow-ups on the follow-ups. I think my brain has melted because of thees reality shows." She made room for Tim even though she wasn't sure he wanted to waste the day in front of the screen. "At least I was given some free jewelry from the new Tiphanie line. Barf."

[brentwood]

There are just some things that Tim hadn't been expecting today. After the whole kidnapping fiasco, it's time to run some new scenarios through his head and expect some more unexpected things. The time he had spent in his suite surfing the comm device had left him exhausted. With every nerve of his on high alert, after a very long afternoon, it's only natural for him to think that- hey- maybe who he was looking (staring) at wasn't really who he thought it was.

The lines in her face were different.

But that's definitely her voice.

And if he can be so easily taken to a barbaric world, it's not so far fetched that his... mind could be messed with, too. This had to be someone totally n--

nope. She'd been expecting him. He inches closer. Tiphanie. Yeah, yeah, he'd heard of that too. Everything had been planned in advance, then. Whoever ran this show was clever, and the body doubles were phenomenal. She was older, but just like Steph.

He's close, but no way is he sitting down. "I think you have me confused with someone else." Probably easier to admit he's lost with the script up front than to have it running wrong when there's been some time invested. To be honest? He's trying not to think of the girl as anything other than just a look-alike, which Tim is almost convinced she is. Because thinking that maybe this might be Stephanie, but older? That would mean the whole... Tiphanie thing is true and would mean there's. So yeah, it's a lot easier to just not think about it. "I really don't know what you're talking about." He kind of does. "But free jewelry can't be that bad."

[blondevigilante]

"Wha-?" Steph turned to actually looked at Tim and found herself suddenly 16 again. This was wrong on so many levels of wrongness. Slowly she stood up unable to stop looking at him.

"Tim? Timmy..." Had the Capitol done this to him as some sort of disgusting joke? Her heart clenched as she slowly crept closer to him remaining just out of reach. "What happened to you?"

[brentwood]

And when she stands, he's taking a precautionary step back. That she's staring isn't bothersome (heck, he's staring right back) but he thinks he'd like to be able to read every last bit of her that he can.

It's like the air around them's grown heavy. There's tension, and it's palpable. And deep down Tim's telling himself this can't be Steph. Steph didn't know his name.

As much as he'd like to correct her-- his name's Tim, not Timmy. Even better if she called him Robin, but there are people listening and screens showing past events that technically shouldn't have happened. He manages to look as casual as he can. Hint: the nerves are still there making his voice a little tighter than it should be. "I just got here," he explains. Again, he's supposed to have no idea what she's talking about. He technically doesn't even know who she is here.

Commons, I do hope this is OK. If not just drop me a line and I'll fix it :3

[revvinguptheharley]

"HOLY MOISTURIZER BATMAN!?"

Harley was passing through the commons in a dress that looked like a carousal. The skirt even had little horses that danced around her hips as she skipped over and lights flickered and strobed on the upper half of the outfit. Her hair was done up in a beehive shape and her eyes were wide with wonder.

"Timmy is that you!?" She exclaimed in shock having misidentified the younger boy as his older counterpart. "Sheesh lousie! When they said they could make me look younger I didn't think they meant THAT young."

It's perfectly fine!

[brentwood]

Holy what?

It takes a fraction of a second, and Tim's dropping what he's doing to fully face whoever-- and oh my God it's Harleen Quinzel, and oh my God why did he think turning to face her after she arbitrarily shouted his name was ever a good idea? Tim's not sure he could make a break for it without drawing even more attention to himself-- and. And leaving Harley alone in the lobby was a bad idea. Irresponsible. So anyway, he has to keep himself in check. Keep calm. Keep pretending he has no idea who this is.

So he tenses his shoulders and furrows his brows and shakes his head. Geez, her getup is ridiculous.

"Sorry, what?"

[revvinguptheharley]

"Lookit your little face!" Harley squealed and cooed lunging forward to pinch at his cheeks.

"And your little hair!" Quick hands moving to muss up his hair.

"You're ADORABLE!" She cackled gleefully. "But what about Stephy? Don't tell me she's looking for some of that sweet sweet jailbait?" She pulled a funny twisted face that said some weird part of her approved of such a relationship.

"I mean age is less important when you're younger of course but it's still a little SS you know?" She babbled exposing perhaps a bit too much about her preferences in websites.

[brentwood]

He should have known better.

"Get offa me!"

Not because he's scared, but just because it's weird. As Harley moves her hands to another part of him, he wimpishly bats them away. Steps back and ducks his head to fix his hair (to hide the face he's making, to hear her a little better.) There didn't seem to be any malice in her voice, just... cutesy babbling coos and awws.

Of course, there's people staring at the spectacle. Tim doesn't bother to hide his face anymore at the jailbait comment. "What are you talking about?" Though in hindsight, that's kind of a bad question to ask.

District 12 Suite

[shinyisfalse]

Peeta hadn't checked the tablet today at all. He didn't know when Katniss had last checked it, and he had glanced through it quickly the night before, but it was a futile hope that no one else would show up for their District (or any District, really) anytime soon.

But sometimes people who were in other Districts would be around the suites. This must be a new thing that was being allowed, because Peeta didn't remember any of the other Tributes visiting each other, despite the different in Districts. Things had changed, so when Peeta saw Tim, he was a little surprised.

"Hey, Tim. What are you doing up here?"

[brentwood]

Guess he shouldn't be as surprised as he was, even after he'd checked and double checked the comm. And then there's the fact that of course these people know his name- they knew what school he went to and how to bring him here. Even the most basic kidnappers know their victim's names. Still, he just can't help it. Tim tenses up and looks as guilty as he is of snooping, though that's entirely on purpose.

"I thought I was allowed to be here," he replies hastily. He hadn't wandered down the stairs, had he? Down the elevator? No, not yet. Okay, so time to ask a question of his own even if it's a little rushed, too. He's mostly just curious. There's not anything he can do with the information now. "How do you know my name?"

[shinyisfalse]

Now that Peeta was really looking at him, he noticed the differences. The hair was shorter, as well, and the voice was younger. The Capitol couldn't have changed all those things within in a day, could they? Peeta didn't imagine Tim letting them, in either case.

"I'm sorry, I... you look like someone I already know, but he's in a different district, so I. I guess these mistakes happen," Peeta gave a small, clearly worried smile, as he stuck his hand out to shake. "I'm Peeta Mellark. You're one of the new District Twelve tributes, right? I'm going to be one of your mentors."

[brentwood]

It was a let down. Because it wasn't even that he'd been drafted into these bloodsport games. His voice lets go of any uncertainty. There's still some natural hesitation, but now it's a touch demanding.

"I know. I look like Timothy Drake." The interviews, the reruns, the commercials were hard to miss. He stuck his hand out to shake with polite firmness. And there's that deflated, kind of wry smile to match Peeta's own. "I am Tim Drake. District Twelve. I'm new."

Why couldn't he have just been left at home? It's too early to get homesick, but there are exceptions to everything. The boiling dread is actually really terrible. A death match? That's beyond surreal. It can't be real.

But it is.

"It's good to meet you, Mister Mellark."

[bratwonder]

Generally, Damian didn't spent too much time in the common room. It was nice to get out of his room once in a while, sure, but frankly? He didn't like most of the people here anyway, so being away from them was definitely preferable. In fact, even today, he was only just passing through the area, but the sight of a weirdly familiar face catches his attention and he decides to stick around for a while. The familiarity is suspicious, and while it could be nothing... well, it wasn't like he had anything better to to around here anyway.

So Damian pretends to busy himself with reading or watching TV or doing whatever it is that bored Tributes do around here while trying to listen in on parts of Tim's conversations. He doesn't particularly care if Tim notices him or not, because once he hears him use that name, Damian waits for a quieter moment and approaches him with a very blunt line of questioning to start.

"Who the hell are you?"

With a Barbara and a Bruce that came from completely different worlds, maybe two Tim Drakes wasn't the weirdest thing that could happen. Still, he would decide for himself whether or not he was really who he claimed to be.

[brentwood]

No, it's true. He's so far paid this kid absolutely no mind, or at least none relevant. He thought maybe for a brief moment oh, there's a kid here but he's so far learned enough that yeah, that's kind of the point. There are more interesting looking people to try to brush shoulders with, to try and exchange names and a handshake with and maybe an odd huff of laughter. But that's proving exhausting and it's really not long before Tim finds himself retreating from the crowd-- space to breathe, y'know.

But that doesn't come as he had hoped because now that kid is next to him and.

Uh. That was a little rude, huh?

"I'm Tim." Except there's no handshake or pleasant-looking confused smile on his face this time. He's just looking confused, which he's getting kind of tired of. This kid can't be older than twelve, he reasons. Is he fighting, too? Probably, if he wants to get to know the newbie. "I just got here." Well not exactly just now, but whatever. There's something in the kid that tells Tim he's seen him before. Then he quickly thinks, no duh, of course that'd happen if they'd been in the commons together.

[bratwonder]

Ugh. He's younger, but he still looks like him, still sounds like him, and that pisses off Damian way more than it reasonably should. He doesn't really doubt that he is who he is, but he still frowns.

"One of you was already more than enough," he complains, not thinking much of (or caring much about) how weird this must be for Tim. It didn't matter to him that this boy might be different from the Tim that he hated with a passion, because his name was also Tim Drake and that's all that mattered. "Do you still play Little Detective in Red back home?"

Because that's all he really cares about.

[brentwood]

It's that whiny, nasally voice. There's no escaping it now, is there, Prince?

Tim frowns when Damian does. It's reflexive, and as self-aware as he is, he's not necessarily prone to hiding everything. The first thing that comes to his mind, again, is brat. But that doesn't sit well with him and he shifts his weight to one leg to settle the bad feeling in his stomach. A kid. A really young kid, in this twisted world. Well, it's not like he had expected the people to stop breeding entirely but this was. See, there's something about the kid's face that makes it hard to look away. Might be the intensity of all the focused hate. Might be that he reminds Tim of someone he'd seen outside of this world. Someone he knows from back home.

But, gee, all that is pushed aside and he downright scowls. He's fine with being brushed off as 'another one'. Heck- that'd be easier for him! If he could go without being noticed, great!

This kid knows more than he should. And worse- he's misinformed.

"I don't play around." No. "Who are you?"

District 12 suite

[andproper]

"Are you new?" she was staring at him, curious. He looked a little familiar, somehow, but... Prim just studied him curiously.

He'd probably heard the question before.