Of all the money that e'er I spent...

[the_marshal]

WHO| Wyatt and OTA
WHAT| Wyatt takes his unexpected new pet for a walk.
WHERE| A Capitol cafe, not too far from Tribute Tower
WHEN| After this.
Warnings| None.



Loaded down with a pair of Miss Pasha's Tribbles and eager to show them off, Wyatt's escort had been quick to leave him to his own devices after leaving the woman's shop, which was more than fine by the marshal. He was happy to find his own way back to the Tower, his own striped Tribble riding along on his shoulder, purring softly in his ear.

Still unexpected, still surprised Pasha had insisted, without repayment, he still hadn't quite figured out what he was supposed to do with the tiny, trembling beast, but it seemed harmless enough and she had said they were easy to keep.... If nothin' else, he supposed Max would get a laugh out of it. This little bit, looking like something his tiger had coughed up in a corner somewhere.

More than once, Wyatt was stopped on the sidewalk by curious passersby, some who had seen Pasha's broadcast, and others who hadn't, but all wanting to know more about the strange creature cooing happily from it's perch as it was petted and fussed over. Dutifully, he answered what questions he could and for the rest, he directed them back to the little shop with its many baubles.

At a cafe not far from his destination, he was stopped by one woman at a table near the sidewalk, but within minutes had gathered a small knot of a crowd, all of them asking after his new friend.

Comments

[pillowmania]

Katurian didn't like the break between arenas. It was always the calm before the storm, in his eyes, or an uncertain pause between breaths. Even when he was younger and less jaded, he spent the interim months with his arms wrapped around his chest, waiting for the ever faithful ball to drop.

The crowd caught his eye. The sidewalk is clotted, he thought, privately pleased with the metaphor. Spilled blood. There was a man that he recognized in the center of all that blood, a Tribute who sometimes had kind eyes and sometimes had eyes that had seen too much. Katurian always found that sort of thing alluring.

He hung back in the crowd, just around the edges. When the moment was right, he reached a hand forward to pet the Tribble.

[the_marshal]

He was answering a woman's question about colors and patterns and whether or not there were any more with 'darling stripes like his' when the hand appeared in the corner of his eye.

"You'll have to ask Miss Pasha 'bout--" he paused, mid-sentence head turning to catch the man patted the squeaking creature on his shoulder, the little thing fit to burst with all the attention, he nodded, a quick bob and then turned back to the woman, "--'bout that. I didn't see all that she had."

The woman cooed and waved her fingers at the tribble and headed off in the direction Wyatt indicated - likely trying to head off any competition for pick of the litter.

[pillowmania]

"You'll need a sitter," he murmurs.

Katurian's voice has a sort of strange quality to it, an anxiety that never really goes away. His tone rises and falls like an unbalanced pendulum. He ruffles the Tribble's fur, searching for an ear to scratch behind.

"Come a few weeks from now. But she's beautiful."

[the_marshal]

"Not accordin' to the shopkeep," Wyatt replied, turning enough to see the stranger at his side, but still close enough for him to reach the strange beast resting on Wyatt's shoulder. "Apparently they ain't got any need for food or water and'll last on their own, even when... we're gone."

As if they were going on a holiday, traveling. Rather than the alternative.

[pillowmania]

"No food or water," he echoed, his lips cracking into a smile. "It's enough to make you jealous."

He laughed, but the sound was more like a cough and his eyes were down to the ground, averted from the sacrificial lamb standing before him. He pet the Tribble blindly, his hands feeling nothing but fur and warmth.

"Does she have a name?"

[the_marshal]

The man's fingers missed the mark once or twice, brushing instead at the heavy fabric of Wyatt's coat. Blinking, he shifted, and reached up to remove the tribble - it squeaked indignantly, shaking, until it's 'feet' were back on the solid ground of Wyatt's palm - holding it out so the stranger might have an easier time of it.

And keep the petting to the cooing ball of fur.

"Not as yet, I'll admit. I'm still workin' out jus' what it is to be honest."

[pillowmania]

"Something crowd-friendly," he offered, lifting his eyes in quick little flicks before finally settling on Wyatt's face. "Inoffensive. Popular opinion, that's something very important in a place like this. Not that it's something I follow, I don't really go for those 'for the masses' type things, but anyway, I'm not in the position you're in."

Sometime during the speech, his attention had broken away from the Tribble. His hand hung above its fur, poised but unmoving.

"You were smart. The Capitol loves pets."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt was silent through the little, impromptu speech. Polite, if bemused eyes resting on the man's face.

Unsettled sort, wasn't he? Maybe Pasha should have given him one of her friendly, cooing tribbles.

"I didn't get it for the Capitol," he said softly, when he got a chance. In truth, he hadn't meant to get it at all, but even if he had, he wouldn't have been because he was hoping for - sympathy - or whatever else from the eager Games audience.

[pillowmania]

"Of course you didn't," Katurian breathed, meaning every word of it, drawing back and making himself look small as though to erase the offense. "You think for yourself. You do things for yourself. You're not afraid."

He chanced eye contact, just for a moment. His smile returned, the sickly embers of a fire.

"Or you don't show it like everyone else."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Just because he's out and about more doesn't mean that Howard's any more comfortable with throngs of Capitol citizens. He's not watching the door so much as keeping the wall to his back, so he's immersed in a book on different types of knots when Wyatt walks in, and only glances up when he notices some commotion and cooing going on.

He doesn't get up to go see Wyatt; he trusts, by now, that Wyatt will come to him eventually, once he's done with all the ladies that Howard suspects have all sorts of questions about Max. He gives a little wave, then returns to his book, eating sugar packets one by one out of the little stand.

[the_marshal]

A group of three young things, too heavy makeup and big noisy jewels, swinging hips they didn't yet have, parted enough for Wyatt to spot the familiar face at the back of the room. Happy for the excuse to extract himself quicker, he directed them on to Pasha's store and then neatly excused himself, the tribble rocking and purring on his shoulder as he moved between the tables.

"Yer a sight for sore eyes, son," he greeted, mouth pulled up in the easy beginnings of a smile as he dragged another chair to Howard's table. "Was jus' startin' to think I'd never get out'a there."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard raises an eyebrow, closing the book and rocking a little bit in his chair, a kind of nervous habit that never quite leaves when he's in public. He never feels calm out here; then again, he doesn't feel much more at ease in his Suite, even with Hyperion and Alpha dead.

"That's like two feet too short for a scarf, man." He eats another sugar cube.

[the_marshal]

His eyebrows veed in confusion.

"Scarf?" He looked down at his shirt front, as if he expected the aforementioned garment to appear. "I don't-"

The tribble cooed softly and the wrinkle in his brow soothed, smile widening instead.

"Oh, ya mean this?" He reached up and scooped the furry ball up. It squeaked and wriggled, but settled again once it was on the table, trembling gently and purring. "It ain't a fashion statement, son. It's a pet."

Though, admittedly, probably a bit of both to the Capitol.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard tilts his head at it and wrinkles his nose, incredulity written into all of his features. "It's alive?"

He doesn't reach out to touch it, instead folding his hands closer into his chest and leaning forward on his elbows, squinting at it.

"Gotta say, Wyatt, I took you for more of a horse and cattle guy than a...oversized mold spore." He tilts his head to the other side. "Does it bite or have a poison stinger or anything?"

[the_marshal]

He laughed lowly and rubbed a hand over the tribble's 'back,' the striped fur puffing out as it quivered happily.

"I didn't exactly pick it. I just happened to be in the store and the shopkeep gave it to me." He leaned back in his chair, nodded down at it. "Go on', it's harmless enough. Ain't done nothin' but purr and shake all the time I've had it."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard reaches over and tentatively pokes it, with the kid of awkwardness of someone who's not used to handling animals he's not trying to kill. After a moment he strokes it, surprised by how warm it is.

A few more pets and a smile starts to spread over his face like water filling a valley.

"Did you name it?"

[the_marshal]

As if Howard's grin was contagious, an answering one slowly pulled at Wyatt's mouth. Folding his arms across his chest, he kicked back, legs stretching out beneath the table, boots crossing at the ankle and resting lightly against the leg of Howard's chair.

"I have not," he nodded. "I ain't never been much'a one for it, but I expect yer about to help me with that, aren't ya?"

[knifewithnoname]

The crowd drew Pruna's curiosity and she made her way to the front of it in the way only small half wild children could. It was easy, the people around her were so facinated by the creature she could have picked all their pockets before any of them even realised.

She was tempted, but the creature distracted her as well as she wrinkled her nose at it. "What do that be being?"

[the_marshal]

Wyatt looked across at the question, then, after a beat, down, and smiled as he spotted Pruna. Crouching down to her level, he turned his tribble laden shoulder out toward her - just in case that wary nose-wrinkle turned into curious fingers.

"Well, I'll be honest, I ain't exactly sure, but the nice lady I got it from called it a tribble."

He regretted now, not thinking to ask Pasha what it meant.

[knifewithnoname]

It did, though they didn't reach out to stroke the creature but to poke it, prodding it curiously. "I did no never be hearing of a tribble before."

[the_marshal]

"I don't think anyone has," he replied. "The lady said they were new. The Capitol whipped 'em up, brand new."

He shifted onto one knee, reaching up to remove the tribble from his shoulder and hold it out closer to her, a puddle of trembling fuzz in his cupped hands.

"It's alright." He curled one finger of the tribble's back, roughing the fur, causing the creature to shake and coo. "It ain't dangerous."

[knifewithnoname]

"It do no be looking dangerous." She poked it again harder, just to see what it would do. "It do be looking pathetic."

[the_marshal]

The squeaked and rocked in his hands. After so much petting and fussing, a hard poke - even from so small a finger - was quite a shock.

"It does a bit, doesn't it?"

A reached out for one of her hands, gently flattening it and guiding it back to the tribble, coaxing her to pet rather than poke.

"That means we have to be gentler with it. It's trustin' us not to hurt it."

[knifewithnoname]

She blinked as her hand was flattened and it stroked the tribble, which trembled under her fingers. It was soft, and warm, she wrinkled her nose. "That do be stupid, we should be teaching it not to be trusting people, or someone might be hurting it."

It was so small and funny looking, if it just sat around letting people stroke it it could easily get stepped on.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt frowned, blinking silently. He didn't know the girl all that well, they'd only spoken once or twice before, and hadn't known many children back home either. At least, none well enough to having such conversations.

But, he was still fairly certain that wasn't the typical sentiment of little girls when confronted with soft, purring critters.

"Or maybe we should be teachin' folks not to hurt instead," he said finally, guiding her hand over the tribble's rounded back.