As sure as God made black and white...

[the_marshal]

WHO: Wyatt and Maximus
WHAT: Discussing Maximus' actions at the Crowning.
WHERE: Maximus' suite in District 3
WHEN: After this, same night.
Warnings: Possibly some language. Will add more warnings if they become necessary.



He should have waited, Wyatt knew that even as he punching the button for three in the elevator, but there he was, not even waiting for his long-missed pants before he was heading after the Roman.

They already knew - certainly had to suspect, at least, after that asinine display at the crowning - what difference was a few minutes going to make now?

(And what if they were already making plans to come for him? What if the Peacekeepers were already on their way? He needed to be there.

Wyatt wasn't going to watch Max's execution.)

Pointedly ignoring the stylists who stared as he crossed the common room - their conversation dropped to whispers as he passed, an excited hissing back and forth - he turned down the hall to the tribute suites and was pounding on Max's door before he'd even given thought to the idea that they might have already moved him into the mentor's quarters.

Comments

[gluteus]

Maximus reached over and removed the other gold band from Wyatt's arm (Wyatt had helped him, after all, and the other band was on his off-arm), tossing it on the bed with the other mess of gold. He shook his head as he did so.

"He belongs here about as much as I do," He said lowly, and with a great amount of pity. "He's a wild creature, Wyatt, though they've done something to him that keeps him fairly docile when I'm around. But you can see it. The lust for freedom in his eyes. We are meant to complete each other's prisons, I think."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt looked from man to beast and back again, chewing silently on the inside of his cheek.

"For now, Max."

He rubbed roughly at the indentations on his arms and tossed the other band back with the other, adding to Max's growing pile - enough there to keep himself in chips for a good while - and stood as well.

"In the meantime, you've got each other."

[gluteus]

"Yes," Maximus agreed, patting Wyatt's shoulder and then gripping it, firmly. He wasn't talking about the tiger.

"We have each other."

[the_marshal]

His fingers curled around Max's elbow, patting and then squeezing.

"I 'spose I should probably go," he said after a moment. "It's late, an' I'm sure yer tired."

But he didn't let go.

It wasn't the park, and they wasn't any alcohol to fuzzy their thoughts, but he didn't want to go. The tiger might eat him, if he dared stay, but he'd almost lost his friend tonight, and getting himself to walk away was a strangely difficult task.

[gluteus]

"If you like," Maximus said after giving Wyatt's shoulder a final pat and letting go. He offered a shrug.

"But I am not tired. Weary of the heavy weight of gold, perhaps," he added wryly, "But I would take the company over uneasy sleep."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt's mustache twitched, mouth working as he glanced back at the bed and its pile of shining goods - as if some absent-minded dragon had misplaced its hoard. ...Or decided to entrust Max with its treasures while it was off terrorizing.

He couldn't say he'd have begrudged it that, seeing as he couldn't think of anyone else he'd trust more either.

"I'll bet ya," he replied, turning back, an easy challenge in his blue gaze. "My arm bits against yers."

He still didn't have any pockets, still didn't have his deck, but he'd be happy to go fetch it. What better way could he spend his night, then here playing cards with Max?

[gluteus]

Maximus chuckled, a real note of relief in his voice. Relief that Wyatt was not angry with him, relief for the ease of the company.

All his life, he had always had the honour of death drummed into him. Even his wife saw him relatively happy off to war. Maximus had always wanted to keep his family alive and safe from harm, of course. Had begged his ancestors and his gods the means to keep them safe.

He was just not entirely used to the concept of someone wanting him to stay alive. Someone who found his life more important than the honour he'd gain from a noble death instead.

(It was a new concept - partially unsettling, partially pleasant - and he wasn't sure what to think about it.)

"I'll take that wager," He said with a slow smile.