[OPEN]

[showbizpanache]

Who| Kurt Hummel and YOU.
What| Kurt is blowing off some stream and trying to practice using a bow, perhaps in vain. Come bug him.
Where| The training center.
When| Earlier in the day.



[He's getting better at this, he thinks.

Or he wants to believe that, anyway. His arrows never fly straight, and half the time his wrist cramps up and he can't let them fly at all. Still, he wants to get good at this so badly. There's no way he'll use a knife or a spear or something that would require him to feel someone die, feel their blood spill, not if he can help it. No, this is better, distance is better, even if this is so impractical and he feels like giving up a little more every time an arrow bounces limply off the opposite wall.

If there's any skill he's always been good at, it's perseverance. And there's no way he's going to stand around and wait to die like Eponine had suggested. He doesn't want to kill people, but he has to survive. It doesn't take a genius to do the math.]

Comments

[formersurgeon]

[Joan knows she should take more interest in the training center, should take more initiative in learning how to defend herself in the arena. But there are reasons this is her first visit to the training center. She's been more interested in the people here, in John and his Sherlock and the Sherlock who looks like hers but isn't. And she refuses to kill anybody; considering the interests of the Capitol, she doubts the training center trains anyone in non-lethal defense.

She comes in and sees the teenager using a bow, and not all that well. She stays back, leans against the wall, and watches him.]

[showbizpanache]

[Kurt is so focused that he doesn't see Joan right away. When he does he looks embarrassed-- She's standing there so coolly, after all, and he can't help but feel judged. There are so many skilled and/or powered people here, after all, and he pales in comparison.]

Um-- Hello. [He shuffles his feet about awkwardly.] I'm, ah, practicing.

[formersurgeon]

[He's embarrassed, and she hadn't intended that at all.]

Oh, no, of course! I didn't want to interrupt.

[She approaches, making sure her hands stay visible, ready to stop at any sign of discomfort or fear.]

Sorry, I'm still pretty new. Honestly,I don't think there's a weapon here that I don't stand a better chance of hurting myself than anyone else.

[showbizpanache]

[He relaxes a little; it's always a gamble, but he seems to luck out when meeting people who seem nice and down-to-earth. Then again, he's entirely too trusting, and it shows when he lowers his weapon immediately and smiles at her.]

Is that so? I feel the same way, actually, if that wasn't obvious enough. I'm honestly more concerned about poking my eye out with this than anything else, really. [He laughs and shrugs.]

[polyturtle]

[Guess who is also in the Training Center, also practicing. He was throwing knives, concentrating, but not really doing so. Before, he'd been trying to calculate how to do it. Now, he was just simply doing it.

He was doing better, he felt, now that he knew the truth. It actually almost felt good to have that weight lifted off of his shoulders, knowing nothing held him back anymore. And then, he finally, for the first time, hit the heart of the dummy he was targeting.

He felt nothing. No cheer, no sense of self-fulfillment. And...he was all right with that. Perhaps it even made him better at what he was meant to do in this place.

It was at the point that he heard the twang of string, and the clunk of an arrow hitting something. He spoke at last, without turning around; there was no warmth in his voice.]

You're holding it wrong.

[revvinguptheharley]

Huh...kinda anticlimatic ain't it?

[The voice seems to come out of no where. When he looks around there's no one in sight, till she whistles and he looks up to see Harley Quinn, quickly becoming an infamous tribute for their shared district. She was in short shorts and a sports bra as opposed to the sort of training clothes they tried to encourage in the center and was enjoying the net of climbing ropes that were strung up high above the ground.]

[formersurgeon]

Believe me, I'd do much worse.

[She returns the smile, and offers her hand.]

I'm Joan.

[wantwhatiwant]

[Ian was also in the training centre, though he was training with the dagger. It was a weapon he knew, and he figured that getting his hand on something sharp and pointy was more likely than a sponsor actually deciding he was worth sending an actual weapon to.

Usually he ignored the others in here, unless they were someone he actually knew and didn't drive him insane; which limited his conversation partners.

His grief had numbed into some sort of blurry focus where he drifted through the days but the moment his mind tried to dwell on Mickey he roughly told himself that no one cared and he had to train, because fighting to the death was all he was good at apparently, that and being dragged to parties.

At least the latter had alcohol. He only meant to glance over to see who was praciticing archery, but he recognised the boy as the blonde haired boy from the screen, the one Blaine loved. So he paused and watched for a moment.]

Top tip, if its not hitting every time it's because your doing it wrong.

[mediumdrip]

[Blaine comes into the room and watches him for a moment before getting closer.]

How long have you been at this?

[showbizpanache]

Kurt.

[He shakes her hand, his touch delicate.] Ah, did you arrive here recently? I don't think I've seen you around before. It's entirely possible that I missed you, I've been ditzing out a lot lately.

[showbizpanache]

[No matter how many times he sees him, Kurt can never quite get used to the giant talking turtle. It's just--a whole new level of surreal, and he always double-takes whenever Donatello is around. Especially when he talks. And is giant. And a turtle.]

Oh-- Am I really? Eva showed me... [He stares at the bow in his hands, his ears turning pink.]

[formersurgeon]

[She keeps her touch gentle in response, her shake brief before releasing his hand.]

No, I'm new. They brought me here during the last arena. How long have you been here?

[showbizpanache]

[He frowns at her, unimpressed and a little embarrassed.]

I wasn't under the impression that I was putting on a show.

[revvinguptheharley]

[she grins cheekily and wags a finger]

Don't be silly, we're always on camera putting on a show around here.

[she swings lazily by her legs hooked into the netting]

But arrows just aren't as much fun if they don't explode or at least pop open with nets or boxing gloves or something fun like that.

[showbizpanache]

[It's really impossible to get training done without someone else around--and even though they're always being watched anyway, Kurt longs for some illusion of privacy. He frowns at the other boy, irritated and uncertain.]

Forgive me for my lack of expertise in handling murder weapons. How exactly should I be doing it, pray tell?

[showbizpanache]

I'm not sure.

[He doesn't really look at Blaine; he knew he'd be around sooner or later. Carefully he lets another arrow fly, and this time it hits closer to its mark.]

[showbizpanache]

[He prefers not to think about that, Harley. A sigh.]

I think I'll try and get used to the regular kind first, thanks.

[showbizpanache]

The last arena was my second.

[He takes a deep breath.]

It... It really has been a while. It doesn't feel like it.

[formersurgeon]

It's a lot to get used to. I'm still in that state where my brain thinks this is all a dream that I'll wake up from. I'm not looking forward to coming down from that.

[revvinguptheharley]

Naw, they wouldn't let us have explosives anyway.

[dripping with sarcasm]


I can't imagine why

[mediumdrip]

[Blaine is in work out clothes too. There's sweat along his hair line. He had most likely been in another room working against a punching bag. He watches the arrow fly and get close and looks suitably impressed.]

Do you want to take a break and go get lunch?

[wantwhatiwant]

Fuck if I know, never held a bow before. [He shrugged, pulling a face at Kurt's words.] Odds of you finding one in the arena is low anyway.

[polyturtle]

[It probably didn't help that the expression on Don's face is simply one of unfeeling, almost robotic coldness. There is hardly any warmth in his countenance, though, perhaps on good for Kurt, the aura Don seemed to let off also lacked any true emotional cruelty. If anything, it was more like barely-restrained despair, which he had little intention of taking out on others again.

Yet. This was not the Arena, after all. Any hostility or anger that might exude from him could be unleashed there, where it could be put to better use. For the sake of the entertainment value he brought, of course.]

Your fingers. Their placement is too tight on the grip, and your grip is too tight.

By doing that you're putting too much control into the wrong hand.

[showbizpanache]

[He swallows.]

It'll happen soon. Probably when you least expect it. If it's any consolation, you're not alone.

[showbizpanache]

[Okay, getting advice from a giant talking turtle is even weirder, but Kurt decides to just roll with it.]

Er, all right. So-- Like this? [He demonstrates, holding the bow and tentatively showing Don.]