thecapitol | Call It What It Is [Open]

Who| Shepard and Anyone who crosses her path
What| Various things in and around the Capitol
Where| See the following options
When| Both before the reveal re: the "Gas Leak" and before the actual event portion of the event gets underway
Warnings/Notes| Probably cussing, violence, and reference to violence

♦ The Training Center:

Shepard has made a terrible habit of confrontation throughout her life, and it's earned her more than one broken bone. As it stands, she does tend to lie around insulting people a lot, and while ordinarily she exhibited that hobby by lounging at the edge of the sparring ring and mocking her fellow tributes, she wasn't feeling that playful today. No, today finds her with the punching bag, sweating and thinking, remembering another time, older days, with a friend now far beyond her.

…Also this is the second bag, she's already destroyed the first. Look, there it is, bust seams and leaking sand, just to the side. You feelin' lucky, punk?

♦ Out And About:

The nicest thing about being a bloodthirsty bitch was that when they paid you afterward, they paid you well. And that meant that when you wanted to sit on a public park bench and pull directly from the bottle, no one could stop you. No one.

But it was a nice evening, and a pleasant vintage, and anyways if these Capitol idiots had a problem, they could cross the street to avoid it, like good little patricians. She didn't have time for it. Besides, thanks to Cerberus, it'd take more than this to put her over the limit, however loose her personal standards for such a limit might be.

♦ The Gas Leak:

If anything had prepared her for the utter two-facedness of every living creature in the galaxy, known or unknown, it had been her work as a Spectre. And here, she was both pleased and chagrined to discover, was no different. But of course it was no surprise that the kind of people who achieved prominence in a society that felt blood sport was an acceptable substitute for war-debt reparations were less than honest to those over whom they held power. It was just so damn tiring, after all this time.

"Just once, I'd like to have someone screw up, and then just fix their own damn problem," she muttered, watching the grainy security footage for the third time. It was the same as the rest; a loose formation of peacekeepers, a black shadow, and then it was over almost before it had begun, and all that was left was blood and corpses. Given the circumstances, they should probably consider themselves lucky the damn things hadn't taken them alive, not that she would call that 'luck'.

If anyone wants to approach her about this, she is the picture of an open-door policy, spread out in one corner of the tribute center's main commons room.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Training Center had been interesting, new faces and more than enough diversity wandering he halls that it made him curious as to what was outside of the building's walls. The city was interesting, it's inhabitants even more strange than he had thought. He wasn't too sure what to make of their fashion statements, but he tried to avoid the too brightly coloured ones.

But once he found the park, the surprise waiting for him on one of the park benches, bottle in hand, he didn't believe he was actually seeing. Shepard, entirely whole, looking as she usually didn't care what the world thought of her. THe bottle was a surprise but after being trust into such a strange place anything that was even vaguely familiar as home was welcomed.

Striding over he stopped a couple of feet from her and watched her a moment before sitting beside her.

"You know, back home we kept that level of drinking in the bar. Or at least the Crew Lounge, Shepard."

She watched him in return, a steady stare under the veneer of intoxication. So, here we are, Shepard and Vakarian. The old team, back together again. Made her wonder, had the Capitol just been reading her mind along with whatever else they were spying on? Christ, she wasn't that much of a suicide risk yet.

The things she doesn't get Garrus into; might as well speak up, get it over with.

"Back home it was my crew lounge and I could drink wherever I wanted," But then he sits, and she decides that they aren't going to talk about any of that. No, it was a time for their usual brand of avoiding the issues, "Unless I'm finally drunk enough to be hallucinating you. That's nice, for a change of pace."

Edited 2013-09-27 01:27 (UTC)

"You're not hallucinating, if you were then I must be too because it's a fairly convincing illusion," He chuckles and turns to watch her and that bottle. It's amazing to see her alive again, alive and well, but he knew that their circumstances certainly weren't the best. Especially not if Shepard was mostly through a bottle of wine while sitting on a park bench.

"You should slow down, just a bit." He'll reach out and gently take the bottle from her hand. Not the smartest thing to do, but he'll take his chances after the day he's had.

"Wh— hey!" she made a grab for the retreating bottle, but he was damned tall, even seated, and it only threatened to unbalance her. Alright, so what if she was drunk? "Who made you guardian of...of —public decency?"

Shepard has no friends left. No, not even Garrus, their friendship sacrificed on this, the tragic day when he stole her only true friend; booze. Now watch her fold her arms, the very picture of a petulant toddler, for all the Capitol to see her.

Wait.

Wait, one second, now, this was taking it a bit far. There was no amount of vivid imagination or wishful thinking that had Garrus playing out a fantasy in which he stole her damn drink.

"Garrus?" God. He was real, "The hell are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you that question, actually. But, it seems that the hallucinogenic wine beat me here." Of course he would tease her, there wasn't a moment he could pass up their usual banter. He was so glad to see her alive, especially after finding out about her sacrifice to control the reapers. It wasn't how he had expected the war to end, but he was sure that she had a damn good reason for her choice.

"I'm guessing that the only other person you know around here is the wine?"

"Ha. It's uh....actually my second," That was new; guilt. At least she thought it was, anyways. Shepard wasn't well used to accepting the existence of such a thing, "I—"

It was right on her lips, fumbling between teeth and tongue, I have friends! the easy joke, the one where she played the hapless social dunce and Garrus pretended he was suave and cunning. She knew the dance, but it died in her mouth and left behind a foul taste.

"Thane was here. He's— uh," No, it hurt too badly still, so she let it go with a halfhearted smile, "I've made some friends."

But mostly enemies.

Garrus nodded, Thane. That was certainly a sore spot for Shepard. He didn't know exactly what had happened, but from her expression he knew better than to ask. Instead he changed the subject slightly away from the topic of Thane.

"Punching people in the face isn't what I'd consider making friends, Shepard." He was still trying to tease her but he firmly kept the half bottle of wine in his hand, keeping it just out of her reach.

"Since when? Always worked fine on you," she snorted, thinking of all the people she'd had to hit for the sake of his friendship over the years— not that she was sorry. Hell, most of them had even deserved it, and she'd have happily gone after a few more if it might've helped.

Hell, she could go for the idea even now. God, was she drunk.

"Seriously, Vakarian, that's not funny. Give it back," She leaned, reaching, "I'm a grown-up, I can get shitfaced if I wanna."

"I wasn't doubting your ability Shepard, just the motive." He still kept the bottle out of her reach, even though he was very likely to get punched for doing so.

"Things really that bad here?"

"Compared to what? A few months ago, if you gave me a choice between this, or Reapers, I'd have picked this place in a heartbeat," She considered the angle, and frowned. No, it was too much to hope for a clean shot at his stupid Turian face, "Right now? They keep dressing me up like political functions barbie. I'd rather be back in the fight."

But she could shove him off the bench and make another try for the bottle, she could.

Call It What It Is [Open]

Out and About

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