Tim Drake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
brentwood) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-06-14 07:21 pm
brentwood) wrote in thecapitol2013-06-14 07:21 pm
Entry tags:
01 (mingling can't be avoided - open
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?
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?
District 12 suite
"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.
no subject
--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.
no subject
"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.
no subject
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.
no subject
It was abundantly clear from her voice how she felt about that.
"In general..." She tried to find words for it. The feeling of surreal disgust with how the Capitol reacted to the Games was one she was familiar with, but being here and mentoring, she had a new take on it. "It is too exhausting to always be panicking."
Accept the fact of your inevitable death.
no subject
Imagine the Arena being the day after tomorrow? That's chilling. And he's from Gotham.
"I'm not talking about a panic." Does it look like he's panicking? He's not. When he opens his mouth to speak next, he finds he lost the words. Sure, he could rattle on about not being complacent, about some sort of-- oh. Never mind. He found his voice again. "All we have to do is just not fight and then nobody has to die, right?"
Right. Even he knows that's ridiculous to some larger scale he's missing out on at the moment. He's mad and still very much just a teenager. Give him a minute to vent.
no subject
But finally she shrugs, feeling sympathy, but not sure how to put it into words herself.
"If we didn't fight, they'd find ways to make us. To make it worse."
no subject
no subject
"Sorry, I know it's...a very different situation to be dumped into. I've been here long enough to be..." Use to it, was what she wanted to say. Which was what was true.
Before these Tributes, there wasn't anyone who wasn't use to it.
"To be more worn down then I should be."
no subject
Still, Tim's sure he'll want to apologize later.
"How long have you been here?" He asks. She can't be over twenty.
no subject
She tried to give him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
"There's a lot of people on our team with more experience then me, too."
no subject
It takes a moment for Tim to think he's figured her out, then another to debate if he should go ahead and ask the obvious. That there are no stupid questions is true, but there are sometimes situations when you probably shouldn't voice them. He figures he can't go by assumptions when his life's on the line, so he peers at her closely. "You were born here, right? You weren't brought in like the rest of us?"